By John Johnson, photos by Allison Davis
In the seventies there were only a few places that one could watch live music on television. Of course there was Don Kirshner‘s Rock Concert and the iconic Midnight Hour. But if you wanted something a little more diverse than classic rock (it wasn’t called that yet) you would have to tune into Saturday Night Live. At 14 and without access to the Internet or a drivers license for that matter, being a music lover, it was definitely a place for me to learn about performers that I couldn’t get from FM Radio. In October of 1978, there I was plopped on the couch at 11:30 PM to watch some sketch comedy and two songs by whatever band they happen to have on that week. When comedian Fred Willard came out and introduced a band called DEVO, I had no idea what I was in for. Jammed into the corner of the stage were five slender guys in bright yellow jumpsuits, thick black belts, giant sunglasses, and their logo on their left chest. Somewhat unsettling and mesmerizing at the same time, they jerked about instep and moved with robotic choreography. With unusable wires and cables protruding from synths and crudely fashioned guitars, they performed an abstract cover of The Stones’ “Satisfaction”, and the whole thing left me gobsmacked.
Now before I go into the particulars and my review of the show, I’d like to stir the proverbial pot. Here it goes, I consider DEVO to be more of a punk band than the Sex Pistols. I know that may rile some people up, but hear me out. Punk isn’t music per se. It’s an attitude, a culture. And unfortunately, the punk label has been slapped onto too many bands that sound alike simply because they shout about pre-teen feelings and know all the basic bar chords. The guys in DEVO, what some might refer to as new wave performance artists, would create music with synthesizers and crunchy guitars while wearing plastic garbage bags, and write songs covering a vast spectrum of topics. Not to mention they were formed organically. Consisting of two groups of brothers, Mark and Bob Mothersbaugh, Gerald and Bob Casales and fifth member being drummer Alan Myers. Again, formed organically. Whereas Malcolm McLaren handpicked the four guys in the Pistols, basically told them what to wear and almost scripted Johnny Rotten’s earlier lingo. Thus making them a boy band by definition. I stand by it. Back to the show.
When I entered The Sound, the beautiful outdoor amphitheater on the inter-coastal near downtown Clearwater, I noticed three things. One it wasn’t as oppressively hot as it was a week earlier during the Squeeze concert. Two, the PA was playing some odd midi compositions that I’m assuming we’re created by someone in DEVO. And three, where the fuck was everybody? I heard from an unnamed inside source that the band had requested that the majority of the arena be standing room, leaving a wide gap from the VIP pit at the front of the stage to the 200 level seats behind the sound booth. But thankfully, as it neared show time (7pm) the DEVO-tees started filing in. See what I did there?
Before the show began at 7:05, a video was played that apparently was created sometime in the bands early days. A fictitious record exec named Rod Rooter was admonishing the band for not being hip enough. The tongue-in-cheek clip transitioned into Mr. Rooter in present day, tacky track suit, giant gold chains riding a stationary bike shouting into his ear piece. Still berating the guys, asking why they “can’t be more like Kid Rock.” He ends with the introduction, “Here is my greatest career regret. DEVO.”
Out stroll the five members, all in black, almost North Korean style attire, with their Energy Dome logo emblazoned on the left chest. Original founders Gerald Casales, Bob and Mark Mothersbaugh were joined by drummer Jeff Friedl and Josh Hager on rhythm guitar and keyboards. They kicked right in with “Don’t Shoot (I’m a Man)”, the infectious “Peek-A-Boo!”, “Going Under” and the assertive “That’s Good”. Mark moving from front of stage to sing and slipping back to play keys at the rear. Casales, a spry 78, ran and marched in place, throwing in simple robotic arm and hand gestures when he wasn’t plunking away at his synth. Song five being a personal favorite, “Girl U Want” was practically a bucket list moment for me coming true, to see DEVO play it live. Followed by the radio friendly, ear-worm “Whip It!” as frontman Mark tossed out a few of their patented Energy Dome hats to the adoring crowd. The Casales sang “Planet Earth” was accompanied by eco and environmentally friendly background video. To no surprise, the entire evenings video imagery was stellar. With Russian propaganda style graphic animations, clips from live performances, rudimentary stop motion-esque chunks, and several sexual entendres thrown in for good measure. The crinkle fry entering the iced donut’s hole was a particular favorite of mine.
The group exited the stage as a Cosmos themed video appears on the large screen and the two that flanked the stage. I believe it was narrated by Carl Sagan, while galaxy, moons, stars and planet montages scrolled by. The speaker informing the congregation just how minuscule and infinitesimal we all are, mere “specks of sand traveling through space”. He continued with his re-introduction of the band by welcoming “back to the stage, your fellow space travelers, DEVO.” The quintet emerged wearing those bright yellow jumpsuits I had seen them in on SNL so many decades ago, blasting into the first song, off their first album, “Uncontrollable Urge”. “Blockhead” followed while Mark made his way to each member, and himself, and tore off scraps of the yellow jumpsuits and threw it into the audience. A nuance that may have gone unnoticed by the majority, was the three soundmen off to the left were wearing chimpanzee masks, an obscure nod to de-evolution I assume. More debut album gems “Mongoloid” and “Jocko Homo” were enthusiastically received by the assemblage. The latter’s declaration query “Are We Not Men?, We are Devo!” was especially user friendly seeing as though 80% of the attendees were in fact men, most of them above 50, present company included. Moving back to Duty Now for the Future for “Smart Patrol/Mr. DNA” which sounded great, and heavier than the most of their synth driven tunes. Lead guitarist, Bob Mothersbaugh ripped a particularly great solo off here and got a look of surprise from brother Mark as 4 or 5 of his strings burst.
“Gates of Steel” closed this portion of the main set, and sensing the end of the show, this iconic song had the sweaty middle-agers pogoing with glee. The gentlemen left the stage once again while the “DEVO Corporate Anthem” played along with its accompanying video. Acting as a dramatic, dystopian bridge before the band came back wearing the final outfit of the evening, black slacks, and black tee shirt with simple white lettering across the chest that read DEVO. Mark took center stage and they marched into “Freedom of Choice” off the third studio album of the same name, while a giant American flag waved on the screen and slowly corroded. With glasses as thick as coke bottles (I’ve heard he’s legally blind), he made hand motions and facial expressions to sincerely convey how important it is to, as Americans, “use your freedom of choice”. During the hard driving “Gut Feeling (Slap Your Mammy)”, a sped up clip of what appeared to be a humans, full body MRI backed the group while Mark randomly slapped himself before disappearing offstage. The band continued their onslaught, moving into “Beautiful World”, having Casales ask if they’d like to see Booji Boy come out. Booji Boy (pronounced Boogie Boy oddly enough), is a fictional mascot and satirical character who is used to convey the “infantile regression and cultural de-evolution in Western society”. The strange spelling “Booji” happened when the band ran out of the letter “G” while making film captions with Letraset (look it up kids, we had it tough back then). Interestingly enough, Booji Boy and Mark Mothersbaugh have never been seen in the same place at the same time. Wink Wink. Ending the evening with Booji Boys falsetto oration of “Beautiful World”. At one point, in a squeaky childlike pitch, he mentions the passing of Dolly Parton and that she too, would say that it’s “a beautiful world”.
Walking back to the car at the absurdly early time of 8:30 I ran into a couple, Bill and Erica that had driven up from Bradenton to see the show. Bill, a long time fan simply, but enthusiastically stated that “they didn’t miss a beat”. “I was elated,”, he continued, “they played so many old songs. They did NOT disappoint.” I wholeheartedly agreed and wished them safe travels.
The beauty of DEVO is that they never seem interested in playing by the rules—or even acknowledging that there are rules. They’re sarcastic, absurd, robotic and completely entertaining. And somehow, after all these years, the whole thing still feels more dangerous and relevant than a lot of bands half their age. That’s pretty punk if you ask me.
Now. Go Out and See, Hear and Feel Live Music
