Just a few scant miles south of Cleveland lies the former industrial mecca of Akron, the once-heralded "rubber capitol of the world." This unassuming city boasts a rich rock and roll history that spawned such bands as Tin Huey, The Rubber City Rebels, Rachel Sweet, and the Pretenders' Chrissie Hynde. Indeed, England's mighty Stiff Records once sponsored a contest for one lucky Brit to win a trip to Akron to hear "the Akron sound."
Of all the bands that had spawned near the Ohio Canal during the Seventies, Devo was the fish that made it furthest up the Punk and New Wave stream. DIY costumes, sci-fi motifs, a philosophical statement in the band's very existence, that strange Rolling Stones cover they recorded, and those angular guitar riffs and quivering vocals...Devo was like nothing ever before seen in Ohio or America. Now, they're brought back to life like a regenerated cyber-virus, as Devo is the subject of a new book by Beacon Journal journalist David Giffels and co-author Jade Dellinger. Giffels, who studied English, Mass Media and Creative Writing, earned a Masters Degree from Akron University and has been writing for the Beacon Journal for nearly ten years. He is also the co-author of Wheels of Fortune: The Story of Rubber in Akron.
CC: Why a book on Devo now, 32 years after the band began and several years since their last tour?
DG: Mainly because the cultural pinpoints seemed to be in order. The kids who bought "Whip It" (including me) are now adults in their 30s who form a book-buying/reading audience; Devo has become part of their nostalgia. Hardcore Devo fans tended to be smart nerds, which sorta describes a highly desireable slice of the demographic pie. And increasingly over the past decade, significant bands and artists (Beck, Kurt Cobain, Henry Rollins, Moby, etc.) have been name checking them. They are not regarded as a joke, especially for those who've bothered to look beyond the surface (read: red flower pots). As their importance has grown, so has interest in where they came from. We wanted to do this book because, somewhat surprisingly, no one had done it before. Devo were a significant part of the arc of the 1970s-80s, and their back story is rich, but for some reason, no one had set out to tell their story before. That said, the timing was partly luck. Jade and I met a few years ago, when both of us were pursuing Devo-related book projects. (He lives in Tampa, Florida; I live in Akron.) I stalled on mine, he kept moving, and by the time he called in 2001 to ask if I wanted to work with him, he'd pretty much completed the research. This was very much a collaboration, but it's worth noting that Jade did the bulk of the research and I did the bulk of the writing.
CC: What kind of research process did you employ in researching the book?
DG: It'd be worth talking to Jade about this, but basically here's the deal: Jade is an art curator, and as such he is -- genetically and professionally -- a gifted and driven collector. When he began gathering Devo material, he was looking to get absolutely everything, and he came as close as reality would allow. The band members' participation was limited. Jerry Casale gave two very good interviews, then withdrew participation; Mark Mothersbaugh declined to be involved. Alan Myers gave the first interview he's given since leaving the band in the late 80s, and Bob Lewis, a key figure in the proto-Devo years who later sued for intellectual property rights, ended a years-long silence. Virtually everyone who'd been involved in the early years took part, granting interviews and graciously opening their personal archives, scrapbooks, photo collections and etc. I had previously interviewed Mark Mothersbaugh and Jerry Casale on several occasions and was able to draw from that. Beyond that, it was a a process of basic shoeleather research -- public records, old press clippings, university collections, etc. The parts of the book about Akron were helped by my previous research on "Wheels of Fortune," about Akron's history as the rubber capital. (Devo makes an appearance in that book, as well.)
CC: What surprised you the most about Devo as you delved into their history?
DG: Before I became involved with this, I thought I was pretty fluent in Devo, but I was amazed at how deeply and widely they had explored this theory of devolution and the concept of how to make a viable pop band fit with a vast philosophy of art, culture, American thought, media and performance -- and still rock coherently. The more I learned about that early history, the better the story became.
CC: How did Cleveland react to Devo? Did they play here often?
DG: Basically, Cleveland and Akron reacted the same, because the very small core of fans of that music traveled freely between the two cities to see Devo, Pere Ubu, the Dead Boys, Tin Huey and etc. Beyond that core, though, NE Ohio violently hated them. Bar owners would hear their sound check and pay them to leave. One night in Cleveland, a drunken biker screaming for them to play Aerosmith ripped Mark's prized Booji Boy mask from his head. A 1975 WMMS-sponsored Halloween show at the WHK Auditorium sparked a near riot; Devo won by default, managing to drive the entire crowd away from their own party. They were pioneers of a lot of things, but people familiar only with their pop years will be surprised to learn how much they led the way on that punk audience-confrontation thing. For a bunch of skinny intellectuals, they could really stir the shit.
CC: Did the band have an influence on the Punk/New Wave scene in the city?
DG: Yeah, such as it was. Devo predated most of the other bands, having started making music in the very early 1970s. "Influence" is kind of a limited term here, since there were so few NE Ohio? people into this music early on. But because the petri dish was so small, all the germs were sort of infecting one another. There was also an element of rivalry. When the scene really congealed in 1976, Devo, Pere Ubu and the Dead Boys played a lot of shows together. The Dead Boys and Devo had quite a feud, which is part legend and part reality; David Thomas, interviewed for the book, was dismissive, saying Devo was a pop band, where Pere Ubu was a folk band. But at the time, they all needed each other, 'cuz it was them against the world. Ultimately, the whole scene was better for it.
CC: Did you find the members of Devo to be, as people, what you expected?
DG: Like I said, we didn't interact much in this project. But having met Mark Mothersbaugh and Jerry Casale -- always the key (and virtually only) spokesmen/leaders -- and having come to understand them through others' eyes, I'd say both are what I expected. They're both really, really smart guys and vibrant conversationalists. Mark is soft-spoken and a genuinely kind person -- he's still got all that Ohio politeness, even though he hasn't lived here in like, 25 years. Jerry has more edge, and also more sheen. He'd make a great political candidate. Strangely, the person I most compare him to is Don Plusquellic, Akron's mayor -- both of them can shoot flames, and both can charm a room into silence.
CC: Do you think Devo could have...er....mutated anywhere, or is there a definite explanation as to their formation in Northeastern Ohio in general and Akron in particular?
DG: Well, my answer to this is kinda -- maybe completely -- parochial. But no -- Devo could not have happened anywhere else. Part of it is the general landscape of a slowly rusting region that had a specific science-fiction aspect. Airships floating overhead; synthetic research labs on every street corner; bowling leagues; and that ubiquitous stink of burning rubber. The other part is that they happened along Kent State University at a completely improbable moment, when some of the most important poets, artists and thinkers were teaching there. Never before or since has there been such a collection. These professors were bringing their colleagues to campus as guest lecturers, and the group of them were encouraging the Devo guys in a way that other grownups probably would have missed. I mean, the art school booked "Pink Flamingos" before almost anyone else in the country had seen it. And finally, the trigger was pulled, literally, by their being on the Kent State campus when the May 4, 1970 shootings happened. That was Devo's seminal moment. None of that could have been recreated elsewhere. Plus, they all watched Ghoulardi at an impressionable age. Ghoulardi is the unmoved mover of that whole era.
Are We Not Men? We Are Devo! is a 224 page, hardbound book listing at $30. The work is full of rare, never-before-seen photographs. The book can be found at all major online and commercial bookselling establishments, and also at http://www.devobook.com the first printing, published by SAF Publishing of London, England, has already sold out. Not to worry, though, they'll make more (:divend:)