Self-titled
Four stars (out of 5)
If you weren't aware, yesterday marked the official release date of the Flight of the Conchords' first full-length album.
Self-titled, it features 15 completely ridiculous tracks from the New Zealand comedy duo.
The show of the same name ended its first season on the United States HBO cable network in September 2007, and new episodes are planned for later this year.
In the meantime, fans - or those merely curious as to what all the fuss is about - can indulge in this collection of reworked versions of tunes that have previously appeared on screen, in concert, and on that award-winning EP.
For those unaware of the plot, Wellington pair Jemaine Clement and Bret McKenzie play marginally-talented folk singers struggling to make it in the big time, ironic given they won a Grammy (best comedy album) in February for their debut EP, The Distant Future.
According to the Recording Industry Association of New Zealand, the last New Zealander to win a Grammy was opera singer Dame Kiri Te Kanawa in 1984.
Actually, irony is something Flight of the Conchords do pretty well.
It's in the mix along with lyricism both self-effacing and observational and comic reconstruction of various musical genres.
Hip-hop, R and B, funk are just some of the targets, the pair taking much inspiration from the likes of Marvin Gaye, the Pet Shop Boys and the legions of second-rate rap artists who proclaim their invincibility by way of a capital M and F.
Folkies and space-rock are also fodder for funny verbal play.
Clement and McKenzie show a knack for impersonating David Bowie and robots with equal aplomb.
Despite all the jovial string-plucking, these boys can sing (and dance) and play to a level that means their material is as full of melody as it is mirth.
To move so easily from the Latin-jazz rhythms of opener Foux du Fafa to the synth-pop of Inner City Pressure and on to the Shaggy-like Boom requires musicality.
As mentioned, some of the 15 tracks here have been recorded and performed previously.
The material is well-honed, the timing of words and pausing for effect spot on.
Thus, the role of a producer to such a project must be quite fun, requiring production polish rather than any massive reworking.
For their debut album, Clement and McKenzie went with Mickey Petralia, whose credits include Ladytron's Light & Sound and Beck's Midnight Vultures.
The collaboration with Beck is notable; he has often employed a similar grab-bag approach to his production, mixing folk with funk and the staccato wordplay of hip-hop.
Hence, Petralia is able to imbue the Flight of the Conchords with a studio authenticity that serves to heighten the joke.
Take Muth'uckas, where the absence of the offending "f" is at times made more obvious by a brief recording stutter, or the plink-plonk electronica of Robots, which mixes aspects of United States indie act The Postal Service with Radiohead circa OK Computer.
However, to focus on the music solely is to risk not seeing the wood for the trees.
Live favourites such as Boom and Business Time require little more than the expert delivery of two comedians in their prime.
In lesser hands, the punchlines to songs of sexual conquests could have arrived prematurely; in true Barry White style, the Conchords manage to keep the pot bubbling longer than most.
It needs to be stressed this effort is devoid of any banter; it is a collection of tracks rather than a series of linked skits.
For a clearer indication of the narrative skills of this pair, have a listen to the BBC Radio three-disc series.
Yet, as a distillation of their wide-ranging abilities, it is a heady concoction that's bound to produce both giggles and gut-laughs.
