So, lately I’ve had an arguably unhealthy obsession with the number four New Zealand digi-folk-pop duo, Flight of the Conchords. Regular readers will remember that I paid way too much to see them live in San Francisco about a month ago. Honestly, I think these guys can do no wrong at the moment. these sentements have led some close friends to question weather my feelings are entirely appropriate (why can’t a heterosexual guy think a heterosexual guy’s booty is fly) (that might sound bad to those of you unfamiliar with the Conchords, but I don’t care). Anyhow, the point is, they admit to a gross miscalculation in terms of when they thought the robotic uprising would occur. I am inclined to forgive them for this mistake simply because, unlike so many people in the world, they have there eyes OPEN and they know it’s COMING, even if they aren’t sure when…
Perhaps you missed them, maybe you just didn’t hear the news, but New Zealand’s self-proclaimed fourth most popular parody digi-folk duo and Grammy Award winning artists, Flight of the Conchords, wrapped up the San Francisco leg of their North American tour Thursday night at the Louise M. Davies Symphony Hall.
The duo, or band, as they prefer to be called (if you can have a one man band, why can’t you have a two man band?) have garnered widespread critical success and a devoted cult following surrounding their self-titled HBO series, Flight of the Conchords.
The Conchords, Bret McKenzie and Jemaine Clement, are undoubtedly one of the funniest acts to grace the small screen in quite some time. But long before they were portraying their partly fictional selves on HBO, they were perfecting the act on stage.
Their stage personas could be described as masters of the deadpan and the pregnant pause; two blissfully ignorant, yet overly serious Kiwis who like keeping it real and talking about the issues. Issues like saving the whales which, clever sea mammals though they may be, would be unable to dial 911 should they ever need help. Even if they did manage to dial, they couldn’t talk…”they’d have to text,” quips Clement.
McKenzie and Clement, who prefer to be called by their rapping names Rhymenoceros and Hiphopopotamus respectively, showed remarkable timing and improvisational skills those only familiar with their television show might not know they posses. When the usual routine of clever song followed by witty, half-scripted banter failed them they found prime material in unexpected equipment failures and surprising outbursts from the audience. Indeed, they remained quick to quip even with the often uncomfortable mood created by an audience that sometimes seemed more suited to a Chippendales show than a musical comedy duo.
As wonderfully off the wall as their stage banter is, any Conchords fan will tell you that the real bread and butter of the show, live or on TV, are the songs.
The band use their guitars and a host of dated digital instruments to flow through genres from love ballads (You’re so beautiful/ you could be a part time model/ but you’d probably have to keep your normal job) to post-apocalyptic robo-pop (The humans are dead/ affirmative, I poked one it was dead).
Sublime anthems of loss and rejection such as “I’m Not Crying” (it’s just been raining…on my face) give way to freestyle rap battles where they “rap about reality/ like sitting at my grandma’s house drinking a cup of tea/ Ain’t no party like my nana’s tea party!”
But enough already, you’ll just have to hear them for yourselves.
The Flight of the Conchords self-titled album is out on Sub Pop Records. It debuted at the number three spot on Billboards top 200. Season one of their HBO show is currently available on DVD with season two in the works.
