Despite a recent glut of comedians using musical instruments in their act, the New Zealand folk-comic duo Flight of the Conchords possess a distinct wit and ingenuity that places them in marked contrast to the general banality of their peers.

Unlike comedian Demetri Martin, who languidly recites non sequiturs over pleasant acoustic strumming as something of an afterthought, Bret McKenzie and Jemaine Clement self-consciously play with their status as a wacky, folk-comic twosome, using it as a means to an end. The duo understands the existential absurdity of their act and take advantage of the freedom this self-awareness grants them. Because of this, the Conchords are able to move beyond the stage, depositing themselves into goofy, surreal situations to a frequently hilarious effect.

Anybody who agrees will be delighted to hear that the duo’s television show, appropriately titled “Flight of the Conchords,” has recently begun its second season on HBO.

The program follows the exploits of the New Zealanders as they strive to make a name for themselves in the vast, foreign metropolis of New York City. Much of the humor is derived from the duo’s inability to understand or adapt to the norms of American culture and society.

Another source of hilarity is the Conchords’ deadpan exchanges with the supporting players, including their equally clueless manager Murray, friend Dave, a paragon of misleading advice, and their obsessive (only) fan with stalker tendencies.

The second season opener wastes no time in reminding viewers of the show’s strengths and, regrettably, its weaknesses. Picking up where the last season left off, the episode finds Bret and Jemaine growing disillusioned with and eventually leaving their manager Murray, who has had little time for the boys after achieving great financial success with his only other act, Crazy Dogs.

“FotC’s” greatest strength has always been its dry wit, evident in the highly farcical, yet played straight exchanges of dialogue. Quotable moments, including an argument over whether weaving is a male or female field of interest, and a debate over whether a band meeting is actually taking place or not, are classic Conchords.

Still, the show has always faltered with its musical interludes, which typically strain to stretch one flimsy joke over the course of several minutes. This episode is no exception, as both songs, including a flinchingly corny Murray solo ballad, fail to generate any laughs.

Yet, as I have said before, Flight of the Conchords places more emphasis on a New Zealand folk-comic duo being thrown in wacky situations than a New Zealand folk-comic duo singing funny songs.

When both aspects of the show are on the mark, Conchords is unstoppable.