Hardcore Devo Vol. 1 - Devo

Imagine for a second that you live in Oklahoma; Oklahoma where a state legislative committee voted to effectively ban Advanced Placement United States History courses in its public high schools, at least “until certain conditions are met” (the complaint was that the College Board reworked the course’s curriculum, thus downplaying America’s positive leadership role). Then, tell me with a straight face that Devo wasn’t right. We live in a world where technology heretofore unimaginable, has culminated in sexting and the “dick pic” phenomenon. Someone made $55,492 to make a potato salad on Kickstarter.

You know the story: two Kent State students witness friends and fellow activists gunned down by the Ohio National Guard and all of a sudden, their art-school joke project becomes painfully self-aware - humans are de-evolving. Hardcore Devo captures some of the first music made by these Ohioans in the wake of this realization. Recorded in various non-standard places on 4-track machines between 1974 and 1977, it is an amazing, forward-thinking collection. Listening to this record in 2015, the genius of it is multifaceted. As a post-“Whip It”-born person, I don’t think I had a concrete grasp of the profound influence of Devo on punk, post-punk, and the like, until listening to these recordings that predate (and outplay) the lot of it. Combining their bleak social commentary with then-cutting-edge technology was another stroke of genius that becomes more impressive with age. Did Devo foresee the iNightmare described above?

Musically, Hardcore Devo sounds like the Safe As Milk-era guitar lines of the Magic Band / the Stooges and the vocals of early Mothers of Invention (especially in the comedic-tinged harmonies) mixed with a framework of Silver Apples and Kraftwerk. This is reaching though because while these influences are recognizable and well-documented, the synthesis creates a unique sound. Many of the songs reappear in mainstream recordings by the band, including “(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction,” which works on every level. Is it satire of the supposed message of the original or a rhythmic, palm-muted, and overall hypnotic tour de force of a cover? Is it both? If the intent of that song is ambiguous, much of the rest is clear enough. And haunting, In Vol. 1‘s closing track, “Mongoloid” posits (laments? brags?), “And he had a job / And he brought home the bacon / So that no knew / … he was a Mongoloid.” In other words, we’re all going downhill. As George Casale and Mark Mothersbaugh sing ultimately, “Nobody even cared.”

4.5/5

P.S. It turns out, the reissue of this gem dates to late 2013, before which it was out-of-print for 20 years. However, it just today came across my path sealed and newly delivered at Normals Books & Records, and I suspect others may have missed it as well. For aesthetic and downright moral reasons, I decided to review this record and abandon my original plan to give a lukewarm review of a perfectly fine doom metal new-release.

P.P.S. It is worth noting that the re-releases on Superior Viaduct Records are consistently stellar. The reissue of Nommos by Craig Leon was easily one of my favorite finds of last year.