Flying High with the Conchords

(Pic by David Sprague/ L.A. Times.)

Business time: Sunday night we hit the Orpheum for the second of two sold-out shows by the Flight of the Conchords. Jemaine and Bret didn't come out on stage in robot costumes, but still opened with "Robots" -- the song that begins with "The distant future -- the year 2000!" ("Uh, we wrote this one a while ago," Jemaine says).

The crowd pleasers were all there -- "Business Time," "The Most Beautiful Girl (in the Room)," and "Foux du Fafa," which consists mostly of Bret spewing a random chain of familiar French words. "Mother'uckas" live also shows off Bret's uncanny ability to self-censor, as if he's real life radio edit of a filthy rap song.

And yes, they performed "Hiphopopotomous vs. Rhymenoceros" in the encore.

The in-between banter was pure "Flight of the Conchords": The two guys in their clueless-folk/rock-band-from-New-Zealand persona. Some banter was scripted, plenty was ad libbed... and almost all of it got a great reaction from the crowd (Jemaine in particular). "I'm gonna get a little closer to the audience," Jemaine says, to hoots and cheers from the crowd. He then shifts.. one step forward. It's goofy, and it's fun.

We arrived at the Orpheum and grabbed our seats in the balcony early, giving us time to take a good look at the crowd. "Hey, it's Weird Al!" Maria said. Sure enough, there was the King of the Parodists, up in one of the box seats (you really can't miss him), ready to take in the Conchords like the rest of us. Also spotted in the crowd: Producer extraordinaire James L. Brooks, and new HBO entertainment president Sue Naegle.

First up, New Zealand-based singer Bic Runga performed a handful of acoustic songs with her guitar; comedian Aziz Ansari ("Human Giant") then hit the stage. Ansari's irony-laced humor fit well as an opening act for the ironic Conchords. Ansari mixes guerilla humor with more mainstream takes on every day life. One of his more benign takes is on the gluttonous experience of Coldstone Creamery.

Ansari recounted the time he stuck a dollar in the tip jar at the Creamery -- and the workers behind the counter began dancing and singing -- but replacing the lyrics to popular tunes with Coldstone Creamery-related lyrics.

"They were like fifth-rate Weird Al impersonators," he screamed.

The crowd went nuts. Ansari continued to tell his joke, but the crowd wouldn't stop screaming. Ansari finally stopped, mid-sentence.

"What, is Weird Al here?" he joked.

The crowd screamed harder, and the house lights went up. Weird Al stood up and waved. Ansari was dumbfounded.

"I figured, either the joke was that good, or Weird Al was here," he said. "And I knew the joke wasn't that good!"