The Flight of the Conchords

Last Friday night the valiant JPX and Whirlygirl battled Red Sox traffic into Boston to come hear a band they didn’t even know, and Mr. AC joined the fun (he rarely goes to a concert so it was a special treat for me). We kicked off the evening at a hole-in-the-wall Italian joint on Beacon Hill where the staff knew Mr. AC by name. Sufficiently fortified, we braved the green line T out to Agganis Arena.

Opening acts were stand-up by Eugene Mirman, the landlord from the HBO show, and Kristen Schaal, Mel on the show. Both were very funny and got the crowd revved up for the main attraction.

When Bret and Jemaine took the stage the crowd went wild. The boys opened with Too Many Dicks on the Dance Floor and interspersed sharp comic patter (some scripted, some ad-libbed and playing off the audience) with their brilliantly funny songs. All of it was highly entertaining. Among the songs played were Hurt Feelings, Bowie, Business Time, Think About It, Mutha’uckas, Carol Brown, Most Beautiful Girl in the Room, and The Ballad of Stana, which the boys helpfully explained is "the word Satan with the letters cleverly rearranged to sound like an acceptable name." They were joined for much of the set by the New Zealand Symphony Orchestra, a hairy dude called Nigel who played cello. FOTC ended the set with the promised Sugalumps, tantalizing the ladies with sexy dancing but retreating when the ladies became too forward. They neglected to play 2 of my faves, Hiphopopotamus and Robots, but I forgive, because I love.

The only drawback at the show was provided by our immediate neighbors to the front, college kids who were particularly antsy during the show, constantly getting up for food and beer and bathroom breaks. Worst of all, one of them had come straight from lacrosse practice and sat there in all his stinky glory, buttcrack exposed throughout the show. Poor Mr. AC had to hold his coatsleeve over his nose the whole evening. Seriously.

After the show, we walked to Fenway to pick up the T, timing things perfectly so as to coincide with the Red Sox game letting out. If you haven’t been on the green line after a Sox game, I can’t convey the claustrophobic sardine glory of the experience. As we made our way back towards the cars, Mr. AC decided the evening would be incomplete without a couple of slices of pizza, so we went to another hole-in-the-wall Beacon Hill place and indulged accordingly.

Really, it was a perfect evening. Thanks JPX and Whirlygirl for sharing it with us!