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May 24 - Los Angeles, CA

2009 North American tour and all other 2009 gigs here.

by hellomyfriend » Wed May 27, 2009 10:35 am


TWO FOR FLIGHT OF THE CONCHORDS


[image]


It’s awfully hard not to fall for New Zealand's 4th-most popular guitar-based digi-bongo a capella-rap-funk-comedy folk duo Flight of the Conchords. After their Sunday night show at the Greek Theatre, Clare R. Lopez and Stephanie Corral had these lovely words for the band:

Dear Jemaine and Bret,

Your show at the Greek Theatre—or the “pantheon of the Gods” as you called it—made my cheeks hurt from laughing so hard on Sunday night. When you walked on stage dressed in robots suits, I expected you to sing “The Robots Are Dead,” the same opening song for your last show at the Orpheum. Imagine my surprise when you opened with “Too Many Dicks on the Dance Floor” and danced wildly with strategically placed disco balls. I didn’t see that coming, and the same goes for the a cappella bilingual jam of “Issues.” Flight of the Conchords in Spanish? Si, por favor!

You’ve elevated awkwardness to a legitimate form of entertainment—one that is slightly choreographed, mostly improvised and always hilarious. Women love you, and from what I could tell that night, so do men. I simply couldn’t get enough of Jemaine’s “love concentrate,” because, as he boasted, “a little goes a long way—like Tang.”

Not only do you care about the issues (read: war, poverty, famine, and the whales), but you’re also smarter than most of us —at least smarter than the man who shouted “Caesar!” as you noted the grandiosity of the Greek Theatre. You’re right Jemaine, as you pointed out (and embarrassed our whole country in doing so), Caesar was Roman.

While I loved Jemaine’s comical wailing during “I’m Not Cying,” and Bret’s perfected high-pitched performance of “Choir of Ex-Girlfriends”—not to mention that gratuitous gyrating during “Sugalumps”— I have to say your performance of “Albi the Racist Dragon” was the highlight for me. I’m sure the kids in the audience will never forget that jellybeans are really dragon tears.

Jemaine, you’ve always been my favorite (no offense, Bret). Why I’m attracted to a bumbling New Zealander who looks like Jeff Goldblum and Mick Jagger’s love child still escapes me, but judging from the reactions of the women sitting around me in the pit during “Hip-Hopopotamus vs. The Rhymenoceros,” I’m not the only one. “My lyrics are so potent I made all the ladies in the first 10 ten rows pregnant,” you rapped. “Congratulations, bitches.”

I was sitting in the fifth row, and you can bet that you’ll be hearing from me 9 months from now for child support.

Sweet sandwiches,
Stephanie



* * *



Dear Bret and Jemaine,

For most musicians, it is hard to fill those awkward moments between songs. But as you reminded the audience time and again at the Greek Theatre on Sunday night—you’re true “professionals.”

While most bands jump from song to song to avoid making less-than-clever commentary, you see that time as an opportunity to talk about the issues. I could never have guessed you care so deeply about the whales, throwing your cell phones into the ocean so they might be able to call 911 for help, and recreating the strangely soothing emergency phone call a whale might make.

Your extended version of “Think About It” addressed other concerns on your minds—from overpriced kicks to a guy with cutlery stuck in his leg—in an awesome bilingual jam session with your HBO Spanish language counterparts. Patricio and Waldo have serious strumming skills, and I don’t blame you for turning the spotlights off on them when they tried to keep the song going. The New Zealand Symphony Orchestra, better known as your curly-topped cellist, Nigel, was a nice touch throughout the set.

After your solid blend of classic and new songs, I’m sure the women in the front didn’t mind that Bret called security on them.

Yours,
Clare

source: http://www.lamag.com/do/blog.aspx?dt=05/26/2009
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by chickenkarma » Wed May 27, 2009 2:59 pm

oh i forgot to add in my ARJ recap that after he gave me a hug he apologized to me because he said that he had been meaning to send me a thank you message but he hadn't gotten around to it. I told him not to worry about it that it didn't matter :P

He's so sweet ^3^
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by hellomyfriend » Wed May 27, 2009 7:29 pm

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by gezyka » Wed May 27, 2009 7:33 pm

^^^ WOW. All of those.
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by peterpan » Wed May 27, 2009 8:04 pm




Jemaine's legs are just...... sooo.....



Manly Manly. [image] [image]


[image]
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by dontlookback » Wed May 27, 2009 8:25 pm


I_am_Heather wrote:


Jemaine's legs are just...... sooo.....



Manly Manly. [image] [image]


[image]

[image]
Mmmmhmmm [image]
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by hellomyfriend » Wed May 27, 2009 9:38 pm

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by hellomyfriend » Wed May 27, 2009 9:40 pm

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by onlyalways » Wed May 27, 2009 9:41 pm

hellomyfriend wrote:Image


Is Arj going for Casual Prince? :P


Cause we already know what his Normal Prince is:


Image




;D
Image

We must be good at guitar... we're not that good.

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by hellomyfriend » Wed May 27, 2009 9:43 pm

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by sheila » Thu May 28, 2009 1:18 pm

DOES THIS...

[image]



remind you at all of this...



[image]


or is it just me?????


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by onlyalways » Thu May 28, 2009 4:42 pm


sheila wrote:
DOES THIS...

[image]



remind you at all of this...



[image]


or is it just me?????




Now I am picturing Matthew Mcconaughey's voice coming out Bret's mouth and I am really confused, yet equally turned on.
Image

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by gezyka » Thu May 28, 2009 5:09 pm

from facebook:

[image]

ugh! He's so sixy and silly! [image]
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by hellomyfriend » Thu May 28, 2009 5:10 pm


gezyka wrote:from facebook:

[image]

ugh! He's so sixy and silly! [image]



He's so cuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuute. [image] [image] [image]
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by gezyka » Thu May 28, 2009 6:21 pm


JOHN BOGERT: On being the 'old guy' at the Flight of the Conchords concert

By John Bogert Staff Columnist
Posted: 05/28/2009 01:51:24 PM PDT

Before hitting the Greek Theatre's $9 beer line, before two guys hit on my 22-year-old daughter, before noticing Dermot Mulroney ahead of us in the $25 T-shirt line, before any of that happened I realized that I was the oldest person at Sunday night's Flight of the Conchords concert.

Actually, I didn't notice Mulroney. A former Breezer who happened to be standing in the queue ahead of us did and she had to tell me that he was in "About Schmidt."

Naturally, he was younger than me, too.

"What's wrong, Pop?" my girl asked with her usual loving irony. "You look ever so pensive."

So I explained how the last time I was here she was a baby and I was catching a Sinatra concert. That night I was maybe the youngest guy in an amphitheater fully engulfed by a Seagrams 7 and Lucky Strike inversion layer.

The T-shirt, by the way, was a present for her original date, her 15-year-old brother, who canceled to take an $80 gig sitting wedding presents. It's true, his old kindergarten teacher hired him to guard her daughter's wedding presents during the reception, though I am not sure what a 120-pound boy was going to do if armed men suddenly pulled a caper on the mass collection of espresso machines, bread makers and champagne flutes.

By the way, The Conchords are a singing, guitar-playing duo, the post-modern equivalent of the Smothers Brothers and very funny. Only they are from New Zealand and they have an HBO series that you should watch
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on-demand.

Naturally, my daughter had to tell me that she was approached by two guys her age when I was in the men's room, two young guys who jokingly asked, "So is that your daddy?" before telling her that she could join them if daddy fell asleep.

I didn't actually see the guys. But I could picture them in the kind of short-brimmed dress hats that would make them look like associates of Jack Ruby. And like their entire generation, they will have been graphic artists, graphic novel illustrators or game software developers. Worse, their dads would never have told them that striped shirts shouldn't be worn with baggy midcalf plaid shorts.

To think, most of this audience was in diapers when St. Frank lit the place up with Cole Porter lyrics before an audience of men in shark skin and grown-up women that trailed the dark scent of mystery.

So I was weirded out. Not by the way I feel or even how I look, because I still look better than anybody who shows up in deeply conflicting stripes and checks. Plus, have you noticed what a bunch of loads so many younger men are? What did we raise this generation on, licorice whips and lard?

Now back to the T-shirt line, where a long wait allowed me to watch all those younger people filing past. It was an odd feeling, like the day I drove this same daughter to college only to be blindsided by an I-Hop waitress asking me if I wanted the senior menu. Me!

Did I mention the guy I met in the Greek men's room who looked at me all squinty-eyed before saying, "I know you. My parents read your articles all the time!"

Still, I thought, my sense of humor must match that of this audience. Even though my senses were honed by Milton Berle, Mel Brooks and Woody Allen while theirs were shaped by Sponge Bob Square Pants.

But the main question here is this. Where was the over-50 crowd? How did it happen that the very people who long ago made Steve Martin rich and famous were nowhere to be seen?

MIA was an entire generation, the one that had living cautionary fables in their own parents, the moms and dads who woke up one day to Elvis on TV and realized that their world - a world of depression, worldwide war and sacrifice, a world of big bands and sweet soft music playing on a summer's night - had been replaced with hip-grinding, amplified guitars and overt sexuality.

Naturally, there would be a heavy backlash. Which is to say that when we had children - the very ones in this audience - we would judge them by our own actions and nail them with the most restrictive driving codes in human history, with curfews, metal detectors, sniffing dogs and pee tests just in case we failed to follow up on our suspicions.

But our parents, poor souls, had to accept a universe utterly changed, a world of children having sex and talking about sex, a world where TV shows talked about sex and drugs and where violence looked like real violence.

This was their reward for saving the world from fascism.

Remember, if you are old enough, passing your parents as they watched TV on Saturday night and wanting to throw up for their giving in and giving up on life. And you wanted to scream when they'd say that they would just as soon wait for a movie to show up on network TV in three years rather than pay to see it now.

All this was beating around in my head when, referring to my generation, I asked, "What happened to us?"

"I'll tell you what happened," my daughter replied, going all crotchety, "the darn ticket prices, the parking, what they charge for parking, and it's cold at the Greek and tickets. How do you get tickets off the computer anyway, and have you seen what a beer costs in these places and they stack the parking. You have to wait for everyone to leave and the seats are hard and who are those Conchords (which I really enjoyed) anyway. And I have Netflix. "

And so on until I knew that she was right. Funny but absolutely right.

Source: http://www.dailybreeze.com/ci_12470559

[image] Cute! [image]
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