​A few years back the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences switched up the rules for Best Original Song, making the hurdles a track had to clear in order to get nominated a little more difficult and introducing the possibility that no songs at all would be nominated during a particular year. (You can read a somewhat simplified explanation of the rules at the bottom of this press release.) This morning the nominees for this year's Oscars were announced, and out of the 39 songs in contention for the gold statuette next month, a grand total of two were chosen as being good enough for the big prize. Exactly zero of them were up for the Best Original Song category at the Golden Globes—the winner of that category, Madonna's "Masterpiece," didn't even make the nomination-eligible cut. Both songs are, however, from films that feature anthropomorphic members of the animal kingdom! The two tracks up for awards, below.

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​If you desire relentlessly goofy, profoundly surreal live entertainment this fine Wednesday evening, might I suggest you follow your nose to the banks of the Gowanus Canal and avail yourself of, yes, the Bell House's Flight of the Conchords Sing-Along, which will focus on season one (no "Carol Brown," damn) and feature trivia, a David Bowie impersonation contest, "a Hiphopopotamus vs. Rhymenocerous audience freestyle battle," a "Doggy Bounce Dance-Off," and a live performance by FOTC tribute band the Mutha'uckas, who apparently exist.Also a pretty lady will be handed a kebab, a gesture she will most likely not understand. This sounds ridiculous. You should go. Here are the five songs you oughta know if you do.

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Flight of the Conchords
Radio City Music Hall
Wednesday, April 15

Let us revel in these times, wherein two goofy-looking New Zealand dudes can sell out Radio City and take the stage in chintzy robot costumes to perform the song "Too Many Dicks on the Dance Floor," which ends prematurely when Bret trips and inadvertently smashes a toy piano. A backup toy piano, purchased apparently for this precise occasion, is wheeled out, and the show goes on, "the show" largely consisting of a rowdy crowd yelling random dopey things at our heroes: "Where's Murray? Where's Eugene?" Etc. "So many questions about the whereabouts of people we know," Jemaine notes, dryly, which is the way Jemaine notes everything. "How about if I pick someone? Where's your niece?"

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The highlight of the new Flight of the Conchords season thus far, provided above, is a song about their testicles, i.e. "Sugar Lumps," which is both the good and the bad news. (The Voice food brigade is enraptured with this clip as well.) I will admit to liking this a lot more than I feel that I ought, an affinity I rationalize as being mostly percussion-related -- as I have noted before, these guys are basically Hot Chip with (more explicit) jokes. But given the generally wan quality of FOTC's two-episode-old second season, we'll take it. The (extremely deadpan) thrill is gone, the jokes a bit stale, the non-testicle-related tunes sadly negligible. Last night at the Angel Orensanz Foundation, HBO screened episodes three and four. I have, once again, good news and bad news, but at least this time they're not the same thing.

Good news: The addition of an open bar and other, jovial people (including John Hodgman, Bobby Flay, and various FOTC luminaries like the mugger from the first season, Mel's husband, and, oh yeah, Bret) made the experience generally more enjoyable -- a song rhyming asshole and casserole is best enjoyed in public -- and episode 3 is probably the series highlight thus far, with a street-gang theme, some satisfying instances of slapstick violence, and an inexplicable Seymour Cassel cameo. But episode 4 is alas pretty lousy, despite the fact that Kristen Schaal finally gets to sing. It's unclear whether this is a hiccup from which they might recover, or whether they had one good season in 'em and we probably should've left it at that, like a British Office/R.E.M. sort of thing. The Voice's own Tony Ortega avers that there's way too much Murray this year, which is fair enough. What's missing this season is a bit harder to pinpoint. Junior-high humor ain't it, though. Which, actually, is good news.

Yes, indeed, this is the first episode of the second season of Flight of the Conchords, i.e. the only reason to have HBO anymore, unless you have a major Anna Paquin thing. (Somewhat understandable.) It will premiere on your actual television in January, but if you cannot wait -- and this, too, is understandable -- have at it. (Here is a larger version, at least.) I myself am saving this for a special occasion, a moment of particular pre-holiday fragility, which means I may well be watching this an hour from now. The fact that it took these guys like 10 years to get a second season going suggested a lack of material, the ol' sophomore slump routine, but early reaction here is positive, so. Let us pray.