It was weird. It was raunchy. Honestly, it was probably a little bit too ahead of its time for IFC back in 2014. If you missed the Garfunkel and Oates TV show, you aren't alone, but you definitely missed out on one of the most unapologetic depictions of female friendship and failure ever put to screen.
Riki Lindhome and Kate Micucci—the duo behind the band—didn't just make a sitcom. They made a musical manifesto for the socially awkward.
People often compare it to Flight of the Conchords. That’s the easy comparison. But while the Kiwis were charmingly low-stakes, Garfunkel and Oates were biting. They went for the jugular on topics like egg freezing, the "fad" of being basic, and the excruciating reality of being a working actor in Los Angeles who is just successful enough to be recognized but not successful enough to pay for a decent car.
The Short, Chaotic Life of Garfunkel and Oates on IFC
IFC was in a strange place in the mid-2010s. They were trying to find their identity alongside Portlandia. When the Garfunkel and Oates TV show premiered in August 2014, it felt like the perfect companion piece. It had that same lo-fi, indie aesthetic, but with a lot more dick jokes and existential dread.
The show lasted exactly eight episodes.
Eight.
That’s it.
You can binge the entire thing in a single afternoon, and by the end, you’ll probably feel a mix of intense laughter and a slight desire to go lie down in a dark room. The series followed fictionalized versions of Riki and Kate as they navigated the L.A. comedy scene. It wasn't "aspirational" TV. Most of the time, they were losing. They were losing at love, losing at auditions, and losing at basic social interactions.
What made it work was the music.
Unlike most musical comedies where the songs feel like a break from the plot, the songs in the Garfunkel and Oates TV show were the plot. They were the internal monologues of two women who couldn't quite say what they felt in polite conversation. When they sang "Sports Go Sports," it wasn't just a parody of athletics; it was a deeply relatable anthem for anyone who has ever sat on a bleacher feeling like an alien.
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Why It Didn't Get Season 2
Ratings weren't great. Let's be real. In 2014, "peak TV" was just starting to explode, and a niche musical comedy on a cable network known for independent film was a tough sell. Plus, the production was demanding. Writing a sitcom is hard. Writing a sitcom where you also have to write, record, and film two to three original, high-quality comedic songs per episode is an absolute nightmare.
Riki Lindhome has mentioned in various interviews that the workload was staggering. They were doing everything.
Critics liked it, mostly. The Los Angeles Times called it "refreshingly frank." But frank doesn't always pay the bills. By the time 2015 rolled around, IFC decided not to renew it. It became one of those "cult classics" that people discover on streaming services and then get angry that there isn't more of it.
The Genius of Kate and Riki’s Dynamic
The show succeeded because Kate Micucci and Riki Lindhome have a chemistry you can't fake. They had been performing as a duo since 2007, starting at the Upright Citizens Brigade Theatre. By the time they got their own show, they had already perfected the "Garfunkel and Oates" persona.
Riki is the "tall one," often playing the more cynical, slightly more worldly character. Kate is the "short one," with a wide-eyed innocence that makes the filthiest lyrics coming out of her mouth ten times funnier.
Breaking the Fourth Wall with Folk
The Garfunkel and Oates TV show used music to bridge the gap between reality and the surreal. One minute they are sitting in a coffee shop, and the next, they are in a full-blown music video about the "Loophole" (if you know, you know).
This wasn't Glee.
There was no glossy production. The songs felt like they were happening in their heads or in the tiny back-rooms of comedy clubs. That groundedness is what made the satire land so hard. They tackled the "Friend Zone" from the female perspective, which was a conversation that basically wasn't happening in mainstream media at the time. They talked about the pressure to have kids. They talked about the absurdity of the "Manchild."
They were basically doing what Broad City did, but with ukuleles and more harmony.
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Guest Stars and the Alt-Comedy Universe
If you watch the show now, it’s a "who’s who" of comedy.
- Chris Hardwick
- Anthony Jeselnik
- Abby Elliott
- Toby Huss
The show was a love letter to the Los Angeles alt-comedy scene. It captured a very specific moment in time when comedy was moving away from the multi-cam setup of the 90s and into something weirder and more personal.
Honestly, the cameos are half the fun. You’ll see faces that are now massive stars popping up in bit parts as weird dates or annoyed neighbors. It gives the show a sense of community. It didn't feel like it was made in a vacuum by a bunch of network execs. It felt like it was made by people who actually lived in Silver Lake and spent too much money on artisanal toast.
The Legacy: Life After the IFC Show
Even though the Garfunkel and Oates TV show ended prematurely, the duo didn't stop. In fact, their biggest critical success came later.
In 2016, they released a comedy special on Netflix called Garfunkel and Oates: Trying to Be Special. It was a meta-narrative about them trying to raise money to film a special, and it actually earned them a Primetime Emmy nomination for Outstanding Original Music and Lyrics.
They also branched out into huge projects.
- Kate Micucci became the voice of Velma in Scooby-Doo.
- Riki Lindhome showed up in everything from Knives Out to Wednesday.
- They wrote songs for The Lego Movie 2.
But for many fans, the IFC show remains the purest distillation of their brand. It was unfiltered. It was messy. It featured a song about how "The 29-Year-Old Girls" are the scariest people on earth.
Is It Still Relevant?
Surprisingly, yes.
A lot of the themes in the Garfunkel and Oates TV show have aged incredibly well. The struggle of the gig economy? Still there. The weirdness of online dating? Only gotten weirder. The pressure on women to "have it all" while simultaneously being told they are "too much"? That’s basically the entire internet right now.
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The show was a precursor to the wave of creator-driven comedies we see on platforms like Max or Hulu today. It paved the way for shows that don't feel the need to explain their premise every five minutes.
It trusted the audience.
It assumed you were smart enough to get the joke.
How to Watch It Now
Finding the show can be a bit of a hunt depending on your region. It’s often available for purchase on platforms like Amazon Prime Video or Apple TV. It occasionally pops up on various streaming rotations, but it’s one of those gems that often slips through the cracks of licensing agreements.
If you find it, buy it.
It’s eight episodes of pure, unadulterated comedic joy.
Actionable Insights for Fans of Musical Comedy
If you’re a fan of the show or just discovering the duo, here’s how to dive deeper into that specific brand of comedy:
- Watch the Netflix Special First: Trying to Be Special is the best way to see their growth as performers and writers. It’s more polished than the TV show but keeps the same heart.
- Listen to the Discography: The TV show only featured a fraction of their songs. Albums like Slippery When Moist and All Over Your Face contain some of their best (and most NSFW) work that never made it to cable.
- Follow Their Solo Work: Both women are powerhouses. Riki Lindhome’s directing and writing work is excellent, and Kate Micucci’s art and voice acting are legendary in the industry.
- Support Local Alt-Comedy: The Garfunkel and Oates TV show grew out of small rooms and stage time. If you want more content like this, go to small comedy clubs. That’s where the next weird, musical, brilliant show is currently being born.
The Garfunkel and Oates TV show was a lightning strike. It didn't last long, but it left a mark on the people who saw it. It proved that you don't need a massive budget or a traditional sitcom structure to tell a story that's both hilarious and deeply uncomfortable. It was a show for the losers, the dreamers, and everyone who has ever accidentally sent a text about someone to that person.
It was perfect in its imperfection.
To truly appreciate what they did, look for the episode "The Fadeaway." It’s perhaps the most accurate depiction of modern dating ever filmed. It’s painful. It’s true. It’s exactly why this show mattered.
If you want to understand the current landscape of female-led comedy, you have to look back at the shows that took the risks first. Garfunkel and Oates took those risks, and they did it while playing a tiny guitar and a keyboard. That's worth a rewatch.