The Devo world view
The punk band’s groundbreaking visuals, philosophy get the art book treatment
Few musical partnerships over the last four-plus decades have proved as influential as the one between Devo’s Gerald Casale and Mark Mothersbaugh.
Those who just dismissively guffawed, “The geeks with the flower pot hats?!!” might consider holding that chuckle until after studying “Devo: The Brand / Devo: Unmasked,” the first retrospective art book devoted to the groundbreaking artpunk band best known for hits including “Whip It,” “Freedom of Choice,” “Girl U Want” and “Jocko Homo.”
The book, available as a limited-edition, two-volume box set and an expurgated version that merges the two as a double-fronted volume, is split into complimentary themes. “The Brand” explores Devo’s visual art, philosophy and self-representation; “Unmasked” profiles Casale, Mothersbaugh, their respective bandmate-brothers, Bob Casale and Bob Mothersbaugh, and drummer Alan Myers.
“I’ve envisioned Devo books forever,” Gerald Casale says. Now he’s got a few, and what they reveal is a collaboration that, among other concepts, explores “how branding is the endall-be-all of everything.”
Mark Mothersbaugh and Casale first imagined Devo as undergrad art students at Kent State, where they witnessed the 1970 killing of four students at an antiwar protest, Casale recently recalled at Hollywood Vaults, an art and wine storage facility were he keeps bottles made by his Napa wine brand, the Fifty by Fifty.
“Devo was a concept from the beginning that was multiplatform, multimedia,” Casale says between sips of Pinot Noir. “We weren’t tied down to some style. It was about an idea. About putting out missives.”
After creating a series of influential experimental films espousing their fictitious belief system, one built around a regressive theory of humanity they dubbed deevolution, the band started playing the Northeast music circuit, including early gigs at CBGB and Max’s Kansas City in New York.
Images in “Unmasked” show a young Casale and Mothersbaugh wearing various creepy masks, performing with the band in adult diapers, of a young David Bowie introducing Devo in ’77 from the stage of Max’s as “the band of the future.” A flier from a downtown L.A. gig advertises a 1977 show featuring headliners the Weirdos and an undercard of Devo and the Dils.
Relocating to Los Angeles from Akron, Ohio, in 1978, Devo went on to become one of the most identifiable outfits of new wave. Its performance of the Rolling Stones’ “(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction” that same year on “Saturday Night Live,” where band members jerked in unison while wearing yellow decontamination suits, remains a touchstone moment of ’70s music culture.
At the time, they’d recently signed what turned out to be a bad deal with Warner Bros. Records in the U.S. and Virgin in Britain, the combination of which Casale says continues to limit the ways in which Devo can earn money from its music. That corporate interests control aspects of the band’s intellectual property only proves a point they warned against decades prior.
The upside of that first contract, Casale says, was the artistic freedom it afforded: “We controlled the studio time and the price of the producer, how money would be spent on promotions. We had the power to use promotional publicity that was [budgeted] for Tshirts, in-store stand-up cardboard displays — this and that — and videos.”
The band took full advantage, and “The Brand” is teeming with examples of how Devo harnessed the weight of the major-label marketing machine in service of its formative aesthetic, which drew from postwar business communication templates that favored rhetorically dense corporatespeak instead of long-haired rock ’n’ roll posturing.
A still from “Roll Out the Barrel” (a.k.a. “Rod Rooter’s Big Reamer”), a short film produced to be projected during concerts, shows the quintet in matching black shorts, white business shirts, red belts, knee-length black socks, white patentleather shoes — and creepy silver face masks. Every album dictated a fresh visual theme.
As merchandisers, Devo offered an array of weird products — a “Devo-Doo” fabricated plastic pompadour, an “action vest” with Devo’s logo, synthetic yellow coveralls, red “energy dome” helmets — long before Tyler, the Creator shilled Golf Wang tube socks.
Casale calls their approach “branding before there was a word for it,” and it’s hard to argue that the act wasn’t ahead of the curve. “When we would put out this stuff that was custom merchandise, we were attacked by the classic rock press for being sellouts,” he said. “But what we were doing was more like a design firm trying to create cool products.”
One 1979 press releasewas written on letterhead that read, “From the desk of the General” and includes a photo of a uniformed, helmeted leader who was in fact the Mothersbaughs’ dad.
“You may not be aware of this, but we are in the middle of World War III,” reads the so-called directive, which then encourages readers to act: “We must fight back! We must know what we want! We must want what we need. And what we need is ‘Duty Now for the Future.’ ”
From a visual perspective, freedom to experiment with music videos proved consequential for Devo during the early 1980s, when the fledgling cable station MTV was looking for content. As with the press releases, the band tapped Warner Bros.’ wallet for videos, including the breakout “Whip It,” without having to pay for them out of future royalties.
The label guys left Casale alone as he and the band were making their videos. “They had an arms-length attitude towards us,” Casale says.
After Devo went on an extended hiatus in the 1990s, Casale channeled his energy by moving into commercial directing — and wine-making.
Mothersbaugh is an indemand composer, visual artist and designer. He’s working on a number of notable projects, including his first theatrical production. A collaboration with skateboarder Tony Hawk, the project is an adaptation of Nick Hornby’s skateboardheavy novel, “Slam.” Kyle Jarrow, who recently earned a Tony nomination for writing the book for “SpongeBob SquarePants,” has committed to the project.
The band still occasionally performs, most recently as part of last month’s Burger Boogaloo in Oakland. Bob Casale’s 2014 death has limited the prospects of new Devo projects, which makes “The Brand / Unmasked” feel like a complete statement.
“Anybody that has a conscious aesthetic and almost comes from outside of rock ’n’ roll, with influences that come from philosophy, from political science, from fashion, theater — especially if you’re visual — you want a book,” Casale says. “It’s a form that codifies the body of work.”