As you have heard me say on this blog too many times already to count, DEVO holds a continuously relevant presence in our society whether you want it to or not. And while the majority of the world still sees them as just some harmless, kooky one-hit-wonder from the 80s, their philosophy runs much deeper and darker than wiggly lines and bright colors suggest, and it dates back to the seediest early seventies basements of Kent, Ohio, places where new wave sheen would never dare to shine. DEVO were in the trenches, residents of Ground Zero, witnesses to de-evolution in action.
It just so happens that their second ever public musical communication of their de-evolutionary theory happened 48 years ago today. (Can you believe it’ll be 50 years since their first show next year?) As a partial live recording of the concert surfaced last year, current de-evolutionary scholars have a better idea than ever of what that early gestational period was like before Akron catalyzed DEVO’s big break, overshadowing Kent’s undeniable birth of the band.
One such scholar, my good friend and collaborator Max Devo (AKA Zhir Vengersky) has summed up the events in a brilliant little essay he wished to have me expose to the world. I was more than willing to handle the job. I’ll stop my spiel now and turn the microphone to him.
Read on below:
ON THIS DAY IN 1974: DEVO PERFORMS AT THE SECOND KENT STATE CREATIVE ARTS FESTIVAL. GOVERNANCE CHAMBERS IS GROUND ZERO FOR SPUDIFICATION. TIMELINE PERMANENTLY ALTERED.
What do you get when you cross a bunch of art nerds, the Baby Boom, a counterculture stressing an empire exiting its golden age, and untreated Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder from watching your friends get shot down for exercising their constitutional rights by the very State that claimed to uphold them?
You get DEVO, a musical group which was an art movement in its own right and would go on to trailblaze the concepts of performance art, music video, and even the genre of new wave itself. They were perhaps one of the most important groups of the 20th century and will remain relevant until the Sixth Mass Extinction reaches its finality.
But it took several years for DEVO to reach critical mass. In 1974, DEVO was still simply the name of a small collective of artists who had their eggs in many baskets, with music being just one of them. The opportunity arose for this collective to put together a live performance and demonstrate concrete examples of “De-evolved music”. Knowing from past experience that they could not simply rely on hired hands to play what was at the time considered “anti-rock and roll”, the core members looked to their siblings, who had musical skill and could understand the concepts being conveyed by their brothers.
The Daily Kent Stater reported thusly: “DEVO CLAN RETURNS TRIUMPHANT–Devo makes a triumphant return to the site of last year’s spectacle… This is your chance. This year’s performance will degenerate in the Governance Chambers (as is altogether fitting). Seats will be at a premium, so get there early… Don’t miss ‘Private Secretary,’ ‘I Been Refused,’ ‘Sub-human Woman,’ ‘The Rope Song,’ ‘Pigs Waddle,’ ‘Be Stiff,’ ‘Androgyny,’ ‘O No’ and ‘All of Us’ as performed by Gerald and Robert Casale, Robert Lewis and James and Mark Mothersbaugh… the incredible Devo…”
So it was on the 23rd of April, 1974, 1,450 days after the National guard murdered four and wounded nine at Kent State University, that those five spudmen took the stage in the Governance Chambers, and introduced themselves as DEVO. The set was comprised of nine original compositions and a band which seemed set up like a rock group, but the music and visuals betrayed. “Jungle Jim” kept time with rudimentary tire factory drum beats in an ape mask. Gerald laid down relentlessly monotonous bass grooves, slinging himself around in a lab coat decked with dozens of painted tampons. One Bob in scrubs dutifully provided mechanical rhythm guitar, and another Bob in a biker’s jacket retaliated with crude, jagged lead work. And Mark, crowned with the Brainwave Poo-Poo Hat, garnished the whole thing with otherworldly blips, squawks, and blasts from an early MiniMoog synthesizer and a Clavinet. This was not rock and roll, rather it was a Mad Magazine or Wacky Packages-type parody thereof. Like Andy Warhol and Pablo Picasso collaborating on a soup can. Most of the audience members, thankfully, were of the avant-garde hipster type who were used to John Cage or Morton Subotnick. They understood the intent and the concept, and received it warmly.
After the Creative Arts Festival, DEVO experienced a slack period as life got in the way. The rent doesn’t pay itself, after all. A few more live shows were played in 1974, but these were in bars and nightclubs where regular old spuds hung out and didn’t want anything to do with this art music. It would be at the tail end of 1976 when things finally started to look up, as DEVO’s lineup stabilized, venues such as the Crypt and Pirate’s Cove took a chance with them, and a self-produced single made enough of a splash to get them the hell outta Dodge. The rest, as they say, is De-Evolution.
The events of the Second Creative Arts festival faded into a footnote in DEVO’s history, remembered only by those who were there. Out of the setlist that night, only “Be Stiff” was taken with DEVO when they got their break. Some 46 years afterwards, archivist Peter Conheim was going through the DEVO archives and came across an almost-complete recording of the concert by accident. A USB drive containing the recording was given to none other than Bob Lewis himself. On April 13, 2021, he uploaded the recording to YouTube and donated it to the archival group Booji Boy’s Basement. For the first time in nearly five decades, the beginning of the end was heard by human ears.
Despite the extreme obscurity of this concert, I the author cannot overstate the impact it’s had on me. When I was told of the recording I very literally listened to it twice every day for nearly three months. In June and July, I recorded my own covers of every single song performed and released them as a tribute album, titled ‘1450 Days After the End‘. I fashioned my own tampon coat and Protar circlet directly after those worn by Jerry. “Subhuman Woman” has become the melody I first play on any guitar I pick up. And when my day job becomes a grind, you may hear me singing “Private Secretary” to myself.
If you have not yet, it is your compulsory duty to familiarize yourself with this concert recording posthaste:
For those so inclined, you may wish to heed the words of Bob Lewis and Malcom Tent:
Tags: anniversaries, de-evolution, DEVO, history, Maxwell Major, music, the past, Zhir Vengersky
What an awesome share! Thanks to you both for your gifted commentary. Duty now!