Flight Of The Conchords - Michael Fowler Centre, 10 November 2026: Review

More than a decade since their last New Zealand tour and eight years since they last shared a stage, Flight of the Conchords return at precisely the right moment. The world is a bin fire. Elections, culture wars, cost-of-living misery, geopolitical tensions, AI eating everyone's homework. Closer to home, Wellington's been battered by public-service cuts, empty shop fronts, infrastructure failures and serial restructures. Frankly, we could all use a decent laugh.

And who better to deliver it than our most internationally successful underachievers?

Not that they've been idle. Bret McKenzie has spent the intervening years collecting accomplishments with characteristic understatement. There's the Oscar for Man Or Muppet, acclaimed solo albums Songs Without Jokes and last year’s Freak Out City, and enough soundtrack and composition work to fill a festival programme.

Meanwhile, Jemaine Clement has become one of New Zealand's most recognisable screen exports. From What We Do In The Shadows and Wellington Paranormal to Moana, Avatar: The Way Of Water and a long list of film and voice-acting credits, he's hardly been sitting at home waiting for Bret to return his texts.

The reunion appears to have grown organically from rediscovering the joy of performing together. Earlier this year they road-tested the comeback with five instantly sold-out shows at Meow Nui. Bret described the pair as "a bad covers band of ourselves", relearning songs via YouTube clips. Apparently there were a few gaffs, fits and starts. Jemaine told audiences, "This is hopefully the worst we'll ever be."

Judging by tonight, they're already much better. Or at least that's what they'd like us to think. I’m kidding, of course.

From the opening moments there was a running joke about being spectacularly under-rehearsed. They immediately fluffed Robots, proving the point. "Maybe we should play more often than once every eight years," Jemaine shrugged.

The mistake only made it funnier. Updated with AI jokes, the robot song felt oddly current. My favourite line of thinking: humanity accumulates a thousand years of culture and civilisation, then uses ChatGPT to learn how to boil an egg! Classic Conchords!

The setlist balanced crowd favourites with deeper cuts. Frodo (yes, with the voices) arrived complete with jokes about still waiting for ‘PJ's’ call. Father And Son remained gloriously self-obsessed. Mutha'uckas was as hilariously juvenile as ever, swear words aurally redacted.

Jenny, Hurt Feelings, We're Both In Love With A Sexy Lady and Iain And Deanna haven't lost a thing. Nor has Bret's gloriously awkward ‘Good Kiwi Joker’ persona during Bus Driver (yep, she was right, mate), or the earnest artistic posturing of Think About It – why aren’t those sneakers cheaper, eh?

The HBO-era gems Carol Brown and The Most Beautiful Girl (In The Room) were warmly received – even with out Reece!. The Petshop plonker Inner City Pressure (complete with Casio SK-5 vocal sample ‘PRESSURE!”) landed especially well, updated with references to Upper Hutt ‘City’, Lower Hutt ‘City’ and even Brooklyn Village ‘City’. Few bands can generate applause by rhyming emotional despair with banal suburban geography like this, people.

Adding local flavour, the duo recruited two unmistakable Wellington street-performance legends. Jarod "Woody" Wood (aka ‘Tree’) dressed in his trademark LED lit ‘Christmas tree’ costume he opened proceedings with smooth-jazz absurdity somewhere between Kenny G and smoochy Valentine’s Day performance art. Later he returned for The Most Beautiful Girl (In The Room) before bringing maximum ‘sax appeal’ to a delightfully sleazy Business Time. His LED costume was in full bloom for that one!

Even more impressive was Te Ariki Paul Toki, better known to Wellingtonians as King Home Boy (or ‘for one nite only!’ - ‘Beatboxasaurus’). His appearance on Hiphopopotamus Vs Rhymenoceros transformed the song from a nostalgic singalong into a genuine showstopper. It brought the house down. I've known Paul a long time and was genuinely thrilled to see him getting this stage time. Judging by the standing ovation, I wasn't alone.

These guests, it was all ‘so Welly’. If you live here, you’ll get it!

Also popping up was long-time collaborator Nigel Collins, jokingly introduced as "the entire New Zealand Symphony Orchestra". He drifted between cello, drums and assorted instruments while quietly holding everything together. Can’t be said for his wild curly locks and 70’s ruffled shirt and suit, though. Snappy dresser as always!

The music, though, has always been only half the story.

What separates Flight of the Conchords from most comedy acts is the banter. The songs are great, but the spontaneous nonsense between them is often even better.

Audience members heckled. Jemaine complained he couldn't understand a word they were saying. “We should have mics on the audience” or “Your heckles don’t seem practiced, like us!” he quipped dryly. Someone announced it was Sadie's birthday. She unabashedly jumped up to be seen. Bret led an impromptu rendition of Happy Birthday, threw her a tea towel and accidentally opened the floodgates for every other birthday person in the building. When extra gifts were required, a stage manager was dispatched to the merch desk. “In the States,” Jemaine commented, “It was dishwashers (not teatowels). We’re a little bit more eco-friendly down here (in NZ)”.

Little moments like these are where Conchords thrive. A strange sound appeared in the monitor. "There's something in my speaker." "That's us. We're the band." "Oh. I wasn’t expecting that!" That's the joke. Every time. And somehow it still works.

There were obvious omissions from the catalogue, but few complaints when the band launched into a magnificently unhinged Bowie, complete with increasingly ridiculous Starman impersonations.

The biggest surprise came during the encore with Feel Inside, the 2012 Red Nose Day charity single built from children's descriptions of emotions. Remarkably, it had never been performed live before. Going by the audience reaction, that oversight won't last long.

Throughout the evening, the running gag remained their supposed lack of preparation. Bigger lyric sheets. Fading eyesight. Forgotten chords. Missed cues. The joke, of course, is that the looseness is part of the act. Flight of the Conchords have always excelled at turning mistakes into material.

Their humour remains uniquely Kiwi: dry, self-deprecating and allergic to polish.

The timing felt especially poignant. On the day Wellington farewelled one comedy giant, Dai Henwood, the city celebrated two more. Alongside figures like Taika Waititi, Raybon Kan, Tofiga Fepulea'i and the late John Clarke, Flight of the Conchords emerged from a remarkable period of Wellington creativity that continues to shape New Zealand culture. We locals won’t forget that. That’s why tickets were rarer than chicken molars and sold out quickly. We invest in what we love.

Eight years is a long time between gigs. Sitting only a few seats from where I'd watched them on their previous Wellington visit, it felt less like a comeback than a reunion with old mates who'd somehow become global stars while remaining exactly the same. For Wellingtonians, Flight of the Conchords are part of the city's cultural DNA.

As for the rest of the country, don't worry. They're only going to get better by the time they reach you. That’s a little joke of course. As Jemaine said: "If anyone's reviewing this, tell them this band's got potential."

Yeah, nah, yeah. I reckon they might.

Tickets available from Ticketmaster