CityLife

Those lucky enough to have caught two geeky guys from New Zealand playing to a few hundred people at the Edinburgh Fringe in 2003 will know that Flight of the Conchords looked set for stardom. In Manchester they certainly found it. As part of their European tour, New Zealand’s fourth most popular guitar-based digi-bongo acapella-rap-funk-comedy folk duo – we’ve yet to ever see the other three - took to the Apollo stage wearing cheap-looking cardboard box TV heads. Their presence though is priceless. The running joke of their hit TV series – a failing band duo with only one song actually create a plethora of amazing songs about their experiences – carries well on stage; after all it’s where they started. Once the thumping bass of Too Many Dicks on the Dance floor fades we’re told that unfortunately due to an oversight on the set list, the next song features the same line. As if they hadn’t realised that! In fact so well created are the stage presences of Bret and Jemaine that it becomes impossible to tell as the show progresses when character stops and the façade is revealed. Once or twice during the impeccably timed songs a mistake is spotted. Bret forgets the words to Hurt Feelings, prompting a dismayed Jemaine to do the same moments later, or Matt the soundman forgets to plug Jemaine’s Omnichord in as Bret valiantly carries on. Both could have been planned such is the effortless rapport the pair engage in with both the audience and themselves. The introduction of the New Zealand Symphony Orchestra (Nigel the Cellist, the other two couldn’t make it) broadens each song’s sound meaning the pair can indulge in other delights. Bret’s drumming on Mutha*uckers or glam guitar on Demon Woman bring a sense of real showmanship to a really ship shape show. With the opening chords of each familiar song fans cheer in anticipation, misled at times by the pair’s re-arrangement of lyrics or addition of new ones to keep things fresh. When a new song is announced, the medieval-themed 1353 it soon becomes apparent their continued ear for a catchy lyric and tune is still strong. Telling the story of a man’s attempt to “woo a lady” by hiring a large horse but needing identification delivers terrific rhymes – “Who needs ID in 1353?” Perhaps a third TV series really might be possible. Between songs the pair engage in a selection of “hilarious” anecdotes about life on the road. Relegating the story of the groupie with the goldfish in her anus, they’re more concerned about telling us how they’ve betrayed their diets by scoffing on each hotel’s complimentary muffin. Other than that we’re treated to Bret’s terrific whale impersonation and a spot on imitation of Arnold Schwarzenegger by Jemaine during Robots. The final song, a stripped-down version of their ode to male genitalia Sugalumps, brings the pair even closer to their audience, gyrating and grinding to suitably comic effect. After two hours of lyric, music and comic perfection as the final chords die away, it’s clear the Conchords have not just taken flight, they’ve taken off.

Despite the gently irony the venue’s name suggests, this was a night for the ears to savour an absorbing array of sounds. Manchester duo “The Winter Journey” opened with a captivating set of gentle folk tunes. Anthony Braithwaite’s soothing voice lent the melancholy songs a suitably mystical air. Suzy Mangion’s delicate piano and harmonies complemented well and the set, which incorporated metronomes, tap dancing and zithers, culminated in what can only be described as a trace of Morse code on the haunting “Ready Mades”. Brighton-based “The Miserable Rich” continued the quality with their brand of what Q Magazine describes as “acoustic chamber pop”. The venue filled with the mournful but enthralling sounds of violin and cello as lead singer James de Malplaquet’s hazy voice delivered a pitch perfect set. In particular, their cover of The Stranglers “Golden Brown” lent an urgent energy to the song, well matched in their own arrangements. Finally, to the din of arriving students, Calgary group “Woodpigeon” delighted the crowd with a set taken mostly from their recent album, “Treasury Library Canada”. Mark Andrew’s gleefully soft voice was, at times, hard to hear over the escalating noise. It took “Beth Jean’s Sleepover”, a song written the previous day, to hush the crowd, with a circling melody similar to Radiohead’s “No Surprises” and the highlight of the evening. Melancholy folk, chamber pop and quirky Canadians? With bands like these, The Deaf Institute needs no aid hearing – completely sublime!