Devo

The debut album by Devo is often cited as one of the masterpieces of American new wave, and having come out in '78 it's chronologically right on the money. In reality, though, the original line-up - differing from the one that would go on to fame by just one drummer - came together back in '73. The first documented track, "Smart Patrol", was written in '74, and the first multimedia performance (a very apt word, though far less common then than now) dates back to '75.

So while it might be a stretch to say they had nothing to do with new wave, it has to be said that the project's early years - during which its style was codified and its aims defined - were spent by the band entirely outside any rock or pop scene. First, as noted above, because they were ahead of their time, and second because they weren't from the East Coast or the West Coast, but from Akron, Ohio - best summed up as "America's rubber capital". A pretty out-of-the-way place, but not out-of-the-way enough for five art students who were rabid Kraftwerk fans.

In '77, twins Bob and Jerry Casale (guitar and bass respectively), brothers Bob and Mark Mothersbaugh (vocals and keyboards) and recent recruit Alan Myers (drums) built the skeleton of their music, video and graphic-design project and padded it out with their less visionary experiences, definitively setting its coordinates. They found time to put out their first singles - including the epoch-making "Jocko Homo/Satisfaction" - through their own indie label Booji Boy, and to catch the attention of, among others, Iggy Pop, who seemed set on producing their first album, but later backed out (and who knows what record that would have been - Devo's debut produced by Iggy Pop!).

The magical object in question, briefly titled "Q.: Are We Not Men? A.: We Are Devo", was released by Virgin with a different cover for each continent, since the artwork was, at the very least, "strange" and certainly not commercial enough. It was produced by Brian Eno and promoted by the band on tour with "fan" Neil Young.

The concept is simple: American society is regressing, undergoing a reverse evolution, a "DE-EVOlution". The next stage of de-evolution is potato-man, and it's only a matter of time, because we're already lobotomized, capable of responding only to the crudest, most basic stimuli, and - on top of being unhappy - forced to envy the condition of someone with Down syndrome. Our DNA is already working towards that end.

To effectively stage all this, Devo played up their physical resemblances to one another, dressing in yellow work jumpsuits and absurd hats, when they weren't disguising themselves as potatoes, dragging giant bananas onstage or projecting themed videos. They moved in jerky, robotic motions, in time with a rhythmically primitive, bare-bones music, threaded through with equally square, blocky guitar chords and repetitive synth flashes. The vocals, too, moved in time - pleasant and clearly enunciated, yet delivered in jerks and starts. Naturally, irony plays a fundamental role in all of this, especially in the lyrics.

So far this could have been the effective portrait of a folkloric electro band of dubious taste, at best a forerunner of the degenerate side of the 80s, and therefore a mere philological curiosity. Except that, as the icing on the cake, Devo played rock'n'roll... they were a punk band, even before being a "new wave" band. In the sense that fifteen-year-olds use the word punk, no more and no less. This record is the best proof of it.

You can start listening from the classic "Mongoloid": it opens with a killer bassline, then the guitar and vocals fall in behind the bass. A song that always hits on first listen, despite sounds that are, to put it mildly, out of fashion - not for nothing has it been an endless source of samples since the happy day it came out. Without even bothering to program the stereo, since it comes right after, we move on to "Jocko Homo", a true manifesto containing the immortal lines of its title. It's astonishing how minimal it is, yet catchy at the same time. The rhythm is dyslexic, and so are the harmonies, but it grabs you forever.

"Uncontrollable Urge" is the definitive anthem to masturbation, one of the most whirlwind tracks of a year rich in whirlwind tracks. Pure punk, and better than plenty of punk. "Shrivel Up" is slightly more structured, and together with the "spastic" cover of the Rolling Stones' "Satisfaction", it proves once and for all that punk is an attitude. The cover in particular is startling in this respect: in theory it's recognizable only by its lyrics, but in practice by an infinite number of small "somethings".

There are twelve tracks in all, all of them primitive, icy and exuberant. Comparing them with those on 1979's "Devo Live", you notice the somewhat heavy hand Eno had in the studio, choosing to emphasize the primitive, obsessive side of the music at the expense of the pop instinct of a band capable of truly engaging live performances. In reality, the choice doesn't turn out to be wrong: thanks to Eno's work, Devo weren't just another garage band, yet their attitude wasn't smothered either. Beyond the superstructures supplied by critics whose love is understandable given the gratuitous urge to endlessly hype their favorite records, even to the least sympathetic listener Devo's debut comes across as a pop record (in the sense that you listen to it and it's instantly hummable).

It's strange, really, a nagging doubt for anyone who's always believed the secret to the "hook-that-grabs-you" lay in craftsmanship. After listening to this record, it's clear that isn't the case. Or at least not entirely. As well as being one of the most original records of the period, it remains disorienting and anomalous, poised between icy sounds and an overwhelming rock'n'roll charge that creeps between one track and the next. Add to that the fact that the reissue is easy to find and costs next to nothing, and it's obvious that owning it is a duty that's not just philological but educational: there's a great deal to learn from Eno and the Akron Five. Unfortunately, the Virgin CD edition is missing the original artwork with the grin on the cover...

After their brilliant debut - duty of reporting demands it be said - Devo watered down their musical formula, keeping only the multimedia side of it intact. They sold an outrageous number of records as a slightly demented, folkloric electro band of dubious taste. But in the end they'd already done more than their fair share...

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29/10/2006