When Robots, Flight of the Conchords’ song about an android uprising told from the robots’ perspective, came out in 2008, it seemed like pure comedy. Now the story feels all too real, and the lyrics have been updated accordingly.

“Humans invented artificial intelligence, and then they had us doing really stupid shit with it,” Jemaine Clement, in the role of a frustrated robot, explained over a beat at Los Angeles’s Greek Theater on Saturday night. “They gave us all the knowledge, deep learning, gave us the power to solve complex, scientific mathematical equations,” his bandmate Brett McKenzie added. “Then just asked us questions like, ‘How do you cook an egg?’”

The opening song set the tone for the first of a pair of shows this weekend as part of the Netflix Is a Joke festival, the climax of a short run of concerts in Wellington and California that mark the New Zealand duo’s first performances in eight years. The night was peppered with reflections on the past and acknowledgments that the world has only gotten more terrifying since then, but the concert felt like a momentary antidote.

Despite the long break, Flight of the Conchords showcased the same wit and understated charm that carried them through early performances, a BBC radio show, and an HBO series that aired from 2007 to 2009. Clement and McKenzie’s easy banter managed to make a packed 5,900-capacity outdoor venue feel much smaller, an effect enhanced by a crowd that seemed utterly thrilled to be there. “Quite a musical crowd, actually,” Clement said amid audience participation. “We assume, because we’re in Los Angeles, a lot of you are probably in the Red Hot Chili Peppers.”

McKenzie and Clement were clearly enjoying themselves, and their musicianship was on full display, as they harmonized and played an array of instruments, including guitar, bass, keyboard, flute and various digital devices. Clement’s voice was particularly rich on stage; the records haven’t always done it justice. There were a few mistakes along the way – one song suffered from some extensive lyrical confusion – but the band embraced these moments, to cheers.

McKenzie and Clement played most of their best-known songs, including Business Time, about a couple’s subpar weekly sex; Hurt Feelings; The Most Beautiful Girl (in the Room); Bowie in Space, which parodies David; and Carol Brown, in which Clement lists all the rhyming ways his exes have left him (“Mona, you told me you were in a coma”), a sort of 50 Ways to Leave Your Lover in reverse. “We’re not really playing new songs, but they’re new to us, because we can’t remember them,” McKenzie said.

Like Robots, several songs had updates: in the 2008 song Think About It, whose chorus is “What is wrong with the world today?”, Clement’s improvised solo lamented that things were “even worse than when we wrote this song”.

Other highlights included appearances by Rhys Darby, who played the band’s manager, Murray, on the show; Kristen Schaal, who played Mel, an obsessive fan; and Arj Barker, who played the band’s friend Dave and opened the night with a standup set. Darby appeared on stage to conduct a “raffle” for an onstage VIP experience with the band; the winner was Schaal, who was offered the opportunity to touch both men for 30 seconds. The duo were backed on some songs by the “New Zealand Symphony Orchestra”, a single cellist named Nigel Collins.

Also joining the band was a large bug that showed up in Clement’s hair and made several more unscheduled appearances throughout the night, including on the overhead screens. “I don’t know where it’s going to go,” McKenzie said after gingerly placing it on the ground.

“Probably go to Hollywood, just give it a go,” Clement replied.

“Then go back to Ohio.”

“Teach drama.”

In typically guileless fashion, when someone in the crowd called for the song Hiphopopotamus vs Rhymenoceros, McKenzie and Clement explained that they would be playing it, but it would be an encore that would take place after they pretended to walk off stage. “It’s gonna be a big surprise,” Clement said.

But before the big fakeout, the band had a few words for a country where they hadn’t played in a decade. “We’d like to sincerely thank you for coming, but we find sincerity quite difficult, so we probably won’t do that,” Clement said. Still, amid the jokes, the night seemed to offer something bigger: a sense of brief cohesion and community in a fractured era, a little bit of shelter from the storm.

“America, you’ve been so incredibly welcoming to us, and we’re very grateful that you accepted some people from outside your country.” McKenzie said. Clement added: “We’d probably be deported now.”