Photo | Drew Lazor

"Why do you guys do that?" a deadpan Bret McKenzie asked the sold-out Tower Theatre crowd when a guy screamed what is inevitably screamed at any concert hushed enough to allow for audience contribution:

"FREEBIRD!"

Surely, McKenzie and partner Jemaine Clement — better known as Flight of the Conchords, "New Zealand’s fourth most popular folk parody duo" and stars of the tremendously popular TV series of the same name — have heard a douchebag express ironic lust for the Skynyrd standard at a show before. In fact, it probably happens every time they take the stage. But in many ways, a politely conveyed unfamiliarity with American life is the third member of the band — they crack us up because they act like they don’t "get it." But as soon as Clement busted into what he called his "American Idol version" of the tune — complete with pained finger-in-the-ear vocal runs — it was clear they "get it" more than we’ll ever know.

Photo | Drew Lazor

After a nice bit of prop-driven stand-up from opener (and occasional Conchords guest star) Eugene Mirman, the pair sauntered onstage and right into "Inner City Pressure," a synthtastic ode to urban living that Clement spiced up with the predictable but appreciated addition of a line from the Fresh Prince theme song. McKenzie apologized for the slight delay in start time, claiming they were sitting around backstage and had no idea they were supposed to be on until they heard cheering. The crowd promptly roared. Saying sorry isn’t supposed to be funny. But then that’s the key to their appeal — the Conchords’ bumbling back-and-forth with the audience is crafted so meticulously that it doesn’t seem even remotely meticulous.

The pair performed a slew of songs recognizable to fans of the series, many of which began as live standards pre-HBO/Sub Pop — "Hiphopopotamus vs. Rhymenocerous," "Business Time," "Albi the Racist Dragon," the robot anthem "Humans Are Dead" and the bizarre mistaken-identity piece "Jenny" among them. They also tested out some new songs, including one about Clement’s ex-girlfriends that came off like an ass-backwards version of Paul Simon’s "50 Ways to Leave Your Lover" ("Britney hit me … Mona, you told me you were in a coma … Bruce, you didn’t tell me you were a man").

The duo was even so bold as to launch into post-song banter lifted directly from their small-screen scripts, save for a few geographical personalizations. (After the amazing "Bret, You Got It Going On," which devolves into Clement admitting to McKenzie that he once put a wig on him while he slept to curb touring loneliness, Clement insisted that "I put a wig on you" is established Philly street slang.) On paper, it sounds lazy, like a comedian rehashing gags from his television special during a club date. But it worked. Everyone anticipated the punchlines, but you could tell that the laughs ran much deeper than the fleeting gratification that goes along with, say, reacting to a popular catchphrase. It was almost like people were relieved that Clement and McKenzie are the same in real life as they are on TV (which you’re meant to believe is the same way they are in real life).

Of course, the Conchords run the risk of wearing out their self-deprecating, loveable losers schtick — jokes about crappy motels and playing to crowds of one tend to dry up when two dudes on acoustic guitars are able to sell out mammoth ampitheaters on a multi-city tour. But judging by the group’s surprisingly varied fan base — seats were filled with everyone from underdeveloped packs of high school freshmen to fathers and sons to distinguished-looking touch-of-gray older couples — that’s not going to happen anytime soon.

This entry was posted on Wednesday, May 7th, 2008 at 6:57 pm and is filed under Show, Music. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.