Even in 2009, Devo inspire mad, uh, devotion. The merch booth was mobbed; tons of folks bought the trademark red flowerpot hats, multiple designs of T-shirts, vinyl copies of Q: Are We Not Men? A: We Are Devo and Freedom of Choice, etc. These Akron, Ohio dance-rock icons also draw a pretty nerdy crowd. Crocodile booker Eli Anderson noticed a similarity between D&D aficionados and Devo fans, and I detected a Star Trek convention vibe in the Moore, which was close to being packed (surprisingly, my row had some empty seats).

Ex-Seattle denizen/currenty New Yorker Reggie Watts was an odd but brave choice to open for Devo. He beatboxed some shit-hot hiphop, soul, funk, and stomping dance tracks that trod a fine line between parody and just outright great party music. Watts is an accomplished comedian as well as a versatile, soulful vocalist, and his absurdist way with Dadaist sound poetry and between-song banter was practically Monty Python-esque—perhaps hitting with more impact because it’s coming from a guy whose afro dwarfs ’70s-era Sly Stone’s ’do. Watts’ devastating de(con)struction of misogynistic, materialistic rap tropes, “Fuck Shit Stack,” was a highlight, and his quasi-serious Voice of God analysis about Devo’s importance resulted in some jaw-dropping improv humor. The digs at industrial-music luminaries KMFDM and Ministry should’ve been stale, but they provoked laughs, largely because hardly anybody really expected those acts to be referenced in 2009.

Watts won over much of the crowd, but a segment of Devo’s fanbase unfortunately suffers from Tourette Syndrome or just plain mental retardation. One balding white guy upfront repeated (and repeated) “Are we not men?!” as if it would get funnier and more endearing with each repetition. It did not. He and other Devo-ted knuckleheads interrupted Watts throughout this performance, impatient for their deities, but Watts let it roll right off him and even slyly sonned them with an extemporaneous putdown of people who shout random things for no good reason.

Devo’s set started with a video projected on a large screen of the band doing “Secret Agent Man” in 1975. Very nice to see footage of the band at this embryonic stage. The vid for “Jocko Homo” followed, and then the original Devo lineup plus drummer Josh Freese came on in yellow hazmat suits to a wild reception. “You all look good in 3-D,” Mark Mothersbaugh announced, acknowledging the band’s glasses. “What you don’t realize, though, is that these are x-ray specs.” We laughed.

And with that, Devo kicked into one of the greatest expressions of frustration ever, “Uncontrollable Urge,” augmented by ridiculously stiff dancing. At one point during the song, Mothersbaugh ripped every member’s uniform at the shoulder. “(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction” clod-hopped in next in all its oblongly funky glory (live you really notice that the beat doesn’t change at all for the song’s duration; Freese amazed here with his concentration, precision, and power, as he did all night). Bob Mothersbaugh’s main guitar riff actually echoed Keith Richards’ on the original much more closely than it did on the version from Q: Are We Not Men?

Devo proceeded to tear through the LP’s 11 songs vigorously, tightly and mostly with loyalty to the originals, and Freese was definitely a monster/machine behind the kit. Were there any mistakes? Well, it seemed like the choruses got clipped a couple of times during “Mongoloid” (and I swear Mark M. was pitching a tent in his yellow suit, but it could’ve been an illusion; not that this is necessarily a mistake, but it's really not what we come to see Devo for, know what I'm sayin'?). But that was all I noticed.

Before beginning “Jocko Homo,” bassist Gerald Casale said that “We’ve lived to see the de-evolution prophesy fulfilled” (especially with regard to that pinhead shouting “Are we not men?” ad infinitum). This song’s riff really is a monument to tantalizing monotony. During “Jocko Homo,” the band stripped off those radiation suits, tossed them into the audience, and rocked some black shorts, T-shirts, and white kneepads, looking something like New Zealand’s national soccer team.

“Too Much Paranoias” boasted some of the most panic-inducing guitar/bass parts ever, and Mark M. let off a nasty-toned guitar solo that in retrospect probably impressed the hell out of Butthole Surfers’ Paul Leary. The queasy album-closer “Shrivel Up” was remarkable for its cyclical, Raymond Scott-like synth motif, which sounded like amplified and pitch-shifted droplets of water falling into a basin. That motif continued after the group exited—as well it should have done.

The encore consisted of a tumultuous “Smart Patrol/Mr. DNA” (off 1979’s Duty Now for the Future), during which Bob M. bounded into the audience and struck guitar-hero poses (he’d been pretty subdued all night, so this outburst surprised) and bro Mark engineered a spectacular synth flare-up, and “Gates of Steel,” a peculiar choice, as it’s off Freedom of Choice, which is being covered in its entirety tonight. Whatever, it’s a very tuneful anthem and a surefire way to send home the crowd in a spirited mood.

Outside the Moore afterward, a 40-ish woman said, “Oh, look—Devo are playing the Moore.” Her late-20-ish male companion, wearing a #20 Barry Sanders Detroit Lions jersey responded, “Devo? Who’s that?”