Devo's final
date on what has been billed as their farewell tour, was always
going to be an emotional night. They weight of expectation alone
was palpable among the packed, sold out crowd of the Hammersmith
Apollo. It was a curious mix of the middle-aged (I lost count of
the number of people I overhead say "I last saw them here in
1980"), as well as younger fans seizing the opportunity to
see some true legends in action while they still can. The band's
trademark 'flowerpot' energy domes were flowing freely at the
merch desk, and you had to feel for anyone standing behind one of
the very many fans that had them on.
This was not
my first time seeing Devo, but the most recent experience of
seeing them perform Q: Are We Not Men? A: We Are Devo in
its entirety had been somewhat of a let down, the band visibly
going through the motions. The fizzing atmosphere this time round,
aided and abetted by a triumphant warm up DJ set from Rusty
Egan, meant that I knew things would be different.
The show
began with the screening of an excerpt from the Rod Rooter's
Big Ream film, a hilarious satire on the music industry
(with Rod Rooter as the cigar-chomping executive) which the band
used during intermissions for their 1979 tour. As the film ends,
it cuts to modern times with Rod Rooter 43 years on (still
played by Michael W. Schwartz) reflecting on Devo as his
greatest music industry regret. It was very encouraging to see
Devo already begin to sign off on the conceptually satirical
note they began on some 50 years ago. Short films continued to
create several episodes during the gig, allowing for the odd
costume change and rearrangement of gear. In the hand of others
it might kill the vibe, but not tonight and never with Devo.
To be
completely honest, after the brilliant film intro, the gig didn’t
get off to the most powerful of starts, the band choosing to kick
off with new song Don't Shoot (I'm A Man) rather than a
one that most of the crowd would immediately recognise. Nothing
against the new material, but it was a strange choice for an
opener. The immediate set up for the first few numbers drew on
Devo's slightly later, more electronic catalogue, with Gerry
Casale stuck behind a synth bass, and Josh Hagar (replacing the
much-missed Bob 2) rooted behind a small synth stack. Nothing
wrong with the choice of material, but it did mean that the
musicians were largely static behind their instruments, which
didn't quite inject the energy the crowd needed for the first
fifteen minutes or so.
Soon enough, after the first mini interlude, the synth
bass was gone and Hagar strapped on a guitar for a few numbers,
with Mark Mothersbaugh moving back and forth between synths and
front of stage. Kudos also to Motherbaugh for using what
appeared to be vintage analogue synths. From that point on
things just got better and better, as Devo cantered through a
breathless set of absolutely electrifying classics, from Freedom
of Choice, to Gut Feeling, to Beautiful World.
It was a
'no-surprises', crowd-pleasing set, but delivered with increasing
energy and enthusiasm, lapped up by and excited crowd that even
saw the odd mosh pit break out. Gerry Casale in particular seemed
to be revelling every second, looking remarkably lithe at the age
of 75. Trademark Devo moves, such as the choreographed stage
movements during Uncontrollable Urge (revolutionary for
the time), and the ripping off of the yellow Devo suits, all added
to the fun. It never felt nostalgic, perhaps because the band's
message is as relevant today as it's ever been (Casale directly
referring this in one of the band's few exchanges with the
audience).
If anyone
needed reminding of how pioneering this band were (live as on
record), then tonight the message was delivered loud and clear.
The likes of Devo will never been seen again. And whilst there was
a tinge of sadness as the thousands slowly shuffled out of the
Apollo, there was delight that the chapter had closed in such
spectacular fashion.
8/10