Devo
Something For Everybody
(Warner)

In a PR blurb for Devo’s first new album in 20 years ago, the band’s Gerald Casale declared, “These new songs are as Devo as anything Devo has ever done.” That’s the truth: Something For Everybody is a conscious continuation of the Devo legacy and brand. There’s even a much-documented ad campaign heralding this comeback album. And yet it’s strange to hear Devo so unchanged by the intervening decades. Pinging synths and plastic production are commonplace today, and the band’s lyrics have simply been updated to include mentions of GPS and hybrid cars. As for Devo’s conceptual flair and arch wit, it’s all too apparent in the album sleeve, a series of startling images centred around the band’s iconic Energy Dome headgear.

So it’s classic Devo, only this time produced by L.A. heavy-hitter Greg Kurstin with Santigold lending a hand on two tracks. The line-up features four of the five original members – brothers Mark and Bob Mothersbaugh and Gerald and Bob Casale – anchored by session drummer Josh Freese. Something For Everybody is quite snappy, managing a dozen upbeat, compact songs in under 40 minutes. And it’s primarily of the same grabby pedigree we expect from the band that wrote ‘Whip It’ and so memorably transformed the Stones’ untouchable ‘Satisfaction’. Mark Mothersbaugh, who’s been busy scoring Wes Anderson films for the past decade, still splits lead vocal duties with Gerald Casale, and the songs remain defiantly rubbery.

Still, the album’s overall solidness only puts into starker contrast the weaker showings. The sequencing doesn’t help: the taut, haughty opener ‘Fresh’ seizes hold with cutting guitar and barked vocals, but the following ‘What We Do’ hams it up so much that it’s hard to stomach. And one of the best tracks, ‘Later Is Now’, is made to languish towards the back. Elsewhere, there’s no getting past the over-the-top ‘Cameo’, which pairs an unfortunate title character with maddening repetition. The pseudo title track ‘Sumthin’ likewise sits braggadocio and absurdity side by side, following the line “I’m the leader of the western world” soon after with “I’m Santa Claus, so look under your tree.” It’s a sort of state of the union, complete with a weird reference to the Taliban.

The other song that teeters near uncertainty is ‘No Place Like Home’, the closest thing to a ballad on offer here. It’s weaker for its sincerity and yet it’s still urgent and chugging in the end, like so much of this record. Despite its iffy recalling of the 2007 catchphrase “Don’t tase me bro,” the Santigold-assisted ‘Don’t Shoot (I’m A Man)’ is a classic Devo marriage of slick pop surface with wilful subversion. ‘Please Baby Please’ and ‘Step Up’ are bouncy missives that are fun above all else, and even the more obvious ‘Human Rocket’ is as propulsive as its name suggests. ‘Mind Games’ plays into its lyrics with a melody that sounds lifted from eight-bit Nintendo, while the closing ‘March On’ adopts an ecstatic dance glow while maintaining that terse, slogan-like singing.

As Casale observes, it’s every bit a Devo record. While there’s reason to wonder what exactly that means in 2010, there’s no questioning Devo’s pervasive influence or the reflexive thrills offered by most of Something For Everybody. A few more outside collaborations would have been interesting, but this band has never been one to follow the current model of the musical marketplace. This is Devo, after all.

Doug Wallen