DEVO are 50 years old. Let's just think about that for a second: this band of innovative, sardonic misfits from Akron, OH, have given the Rolling Stones a run for their septuagenarian money.
Although very incorrectly labelled as a one-hit wonder joke band throughout much of their career, DEVO's music, stage shows and music videos have always been powerful, hilarious, and political — something which was lost on many after their song "Whip It" became a beloved MTV and new wave staple. Formed officially in the wake of the Kent State massacre, which left four student protesters dead at the hands of the Ohio National Guard, the band expanded their concept of "de-evolution" into the band we know and love today, using humour, irony, and satire to emphasize humanity's regression into barbarism and herd mentality.
On Monday night at History, DEVO celebrated half a century of off-kilter riffs, kitsch, art and protest, easily proving why they're still around and relevant as ever, their raucous set nothing short of exuberant.
Throughout the venue, DEVOtees (you definitely see what I did there) sported the ubiquitous "energy dome" hats (plastic and available for purchase, of course), peppering the venue with literally the most appropriate artist merch ever. As co-lead vocalist and keyboardist Mark Mothersbaugh recounted in a 2009 interview, their design was influenced by Bauhaus, geometric fashion and Aztec temples. Standard merch-item history.
Before the DEVO came out, they played a video of sleazy record executive Rod Rooter, wherein he tries to convince the band to sell out with dolls and a more commercial sound. Fat chance, Rod! A second video showed an aged Rod in a garish jumpsuit riding a peloton, lamenting ever being associated with the band. He wished them luck as they preached to the converted. No complaints here.
For the first few songs, "Don't Shoot (I'm a Man)," "Peek-A-Boo!," "Going Under" and "That's Good," the band came out to cheers and whistles in very sensible matching black work clothes. They donned the energy domes during "Girl U Want," which were greeted with even more enthusiastic cheers. The song's sci-funk keyboard lines, Neanderthalic guitar solo, and cracking drums resulted in one of the night's biggest, most joyous highlights.
Throughout the life-affirming, career-spanning set, the visuals showed clips from old DEVO films and music videos, as well as swaths of pulsating colours, colour bars (who remembers those?), swirling shapes and patterns, hypno-spirals, caricatures inspired by Soviet poster art, animated chromosomes, remixed clips from the aforementioned music videos (some of which were very impressively synced), newly filmed impressionistic films, and lyrics and images that coincided with the words. Even after 50 years, the band still don't shy away from making statements, and that's more than commendable for a legacy act. They certainly don't rest on their laurels. Hallelujah!
A band of ideas and ideals — conceptual and funky and concerned — DEVO have always placed just as much emphasis and energy into their shows and videos as they have on their music. They blasted through songs with restless aplomb, all energy and dancing and clapping and loving their own music. This was gobbled up by the crowd, who bounced, danced, cheered, and clapped and sang along in response. They had so much fun, and so did we.
They didn't speak to the crowd until after "Girl U Want," at which point co-lead-vocalist and multi-instrumentalist Gerald Casale said, "The state of the world is dire, so we must whip it." The band then launched into "Whip It." Truer words have never been spoken.
The phones were out in droves as the band played their most recognizable song, and I got weirdly emotional, maybe because it was the first DEVO song I ever heard, and I never thought I'd be seeing this awesome band live. It was a good moment. They threw some of the energy dome hats into the crowd, and people launched into the air, arms outstretched, trying to grasp a memento straight from the hands of Mothersbaugh.
Even though the band churned out song after song at a blinding pace, it never felt rushed, just frantic and urgent. DEVO are consummate performers, and throughout the night, you could feel their experience. They were tight but super comfortable, using choreography and set pieces to cheesy perfection.
The band, as a whole, are a study in contradictions, mixing pounding rhythms with goofy keyboards and some very potent messaging. During "Planet Earth," the universal globe icon burned and blossomed behind them, crumbling and becoming lush. A pause followed for a costume change, during which a prescient, cryptic video narrated by Carl Sagan about the state of the world, the universe, and DEVO's place in it (as well as our own) played.
After the video, the band emerged wearing the yellow suits, before the unmistakable drums of their apocalyptic version of "Satisfaction" boomed through the venue. It was all guitars and basses for this one. As always, the song teetered perfectly on the edge of collapse. A punky cover of "Secret Agent Man" followed, inspiring one of the night's most boisterous and surprising sing-alongs. Mothersbaugh delivered a blistering keyboard solo. It was '60s-kitsch perfection.
"Uncontrollable Urge" saw many horns thrust up high, and with that riff, who could blame us? The band started ripping off parts of their respective suits to reveal the fleshy humanoids underneath, throwing the moulted exoskeleton pieces into the crowd. They even came together as a unit and bounced in tight unison during the song's extended bridge. During "Mongoloid," Mothersbaugh sported some audacious pompoms and danced on either side of the stage while the crowd thrust their domes into the air. Josh Hager's jittery dance moves matched his slashing chords, while Casale and Bob Mothersbaugh traded taut vocals. A party if there ever was one.
DEVO's music, and by extension their shows, are all about enjoyment and humanity, a belief that individuality and community together can save us. They demand us to be unique, to be weird; to stand up for what's right and stand out from the crowd. To just stand and fuck shit up. DEVO would want you to because what's "normal" and "accepted" isn't necessarily what's good for us or this planet. Dear people of Earth, stop disappointing DEVO so much: they love you.
"Smart Petrol" segued into a blistering version of "Mr. DNA," which included a crushing, deafening noise solo from Bob, before a towering and beautiful "Gates of Steel" closed out Act 2. During "Gates of Steel," the visuals depicted a brain, rendered to resemble a circuit board, pulsating and moving across the screen. It stressed the evening's core message: we are now living in a world rooted in and influenced by digital neural pathways.
Over a majestic, subservient image of the band clad in shades and white suits saluting their consumerist overlords, the DEVO corporate anthem played, thus bringing us into Act 3. The band re-emerged shortly thereafter, bathed in red and ushered in by a clapping, cheering audience. Their spiky, black vinyl suits spelled out "DEVO," the band vamping for the crowd before "Freedom of Choice." A video featuring blue and red teams of roller derby skateboarders engaged in combat played behind them. The two teams kept crashing into each other and falling, an apt metaphor for the state of America today. There is clearly no choice at all: it's all wrong.
A raucous, chaotic version of "Gut Feeling" followed, full of noise and bombast, before Casale brought out Booji Boy, the band's creepy but affable "mascot" played by Mothersbaugh. He helped close out the show with "Beautiful World," and as the song started, the images behind the band showed the spinning earth, mountains, trees, stars, lakes and all the natural wonders of this world. Unsurprisingly, there were no images of people.
Booji danced and tried to get the crowd waving their hands, but there was an almost comical lack of participation. Disgust perhaps? It felt like the night's only stumble, as people seemed unmotivated by the grotesque Booji. Poor guy. A mystical, flame-like animation bloomed on screen, with the Earth itself bouncing in the middle of it — a slight nod towards Armageddon, perhaps?
There was a short interpolation of "Satisfaction," before a montage of clips showing the world in all its beautiful, horrific glory played: Chaplin's The Great Dictator and a KKK rally and animals and babies and war and farming and genocide and terrorism and family and famine and clouds and math and clear cutting and love and death and planes and records and architecture and children dancing and horror.
It was a barrage of juxtapositions, this "beautiful" world of ours rooted, like the band, in overwhelming contradiction. And yet, it never felt cynical, nihilistic, or accusatory. Rather, it felt like a plea; a hope; a revelation. DEVO are also part of the problem, and they know it, but 50 years on, they're still trying to do better, to be better. They're screaming at us, using humour and riffs to make this planet just a bit better. It's a beautiful world for you, but you gotta make it that way.
Earlier in the set, before the band's classic "Jocko Homo," Casale asked if we thought de-evolution was real. The crowd roared in agreement. Are we not men? Fuck no. We are all DEVO. D-E-V-O.