The weirdest rock band of the ’80s says farewell to San Francisco

Although scientists may debate the topic for generations to come, thousands of fans who gathered at the Golden Gate Theatre on Sunday all agree on the exact year when mankind began its “de-evolution”: 1973.

That was the birth year of Devo, one of the strangest and most influential bands to ever don matching yellow jumpsuits. Now in their 50th year, the band best-known for their 1980 single “Whip It” has finally decided to hang up their red “energy dome” helmets in retirement — at least until a 100-year reunion planned for 2073.

The band’s farewell tour stopped through San Francisco for two shows this week, packing the 2,200-capacity Golden Gate Theatre. Their initial Nov. 14 performance created such demand that a second date was added for Nov. 5. Over their five decades as a band, Devo have cultivated a mythology all of their own, and a devoted fan base lovingly referred to as “spuds,” which spanned from aging new wavers to an energy dome-wearing child who couldn’t be over 10 years.

In the minutes before the show, the current five-piece formation of the band huddled backstage to pose for a quick portrait. Frontman Mark Mothersbaugh, in his signature frosted-over eyeglasses, sat stoically on a folding chair. Despite a half-century in the public eye, there was an alien awkwardness to the group. It brought to mind the age-old question posed by Mothersbaugh back in 1978, which served as the title of their debut album.

“Q: Are We Not Men? A: We Are Devo!”

The band might’ve been a bit shy as far as humans go, but once they hit the stage as Devo, they proved that they’re still very much rock stars, and that age hasn’t softened their love of new wave theatrics. The set featured a series of costume changes, including their signature energy domes and yellow jumpsuits. Mothersbaugh exuded a jittery but understated energy onstage, pacing from the mic to a pair of Moog synthesizers where he squealed out solos with gratuitous use of the pitch wheel. During “Uncontrollable Urge,” Mothersbaugh tore his yellow suit apart, leaving the sleeves in tatters. Toward the end of the set, he sent handfuls of bouncy balls flying into the crowd.

Although they may be cast by some as one-hit wonders for the success of “Whip It,” the three-time Rock & Roll Hall of Fame nominees had a huge influence on pop culture. David Bowie was so blown away by their demos that he originally expressed interest in producing their debut, instead passing it on to his frequent collaborator Brian Eno. They’ve been covered by everyone from Rage Against the Machine to Car Seat Headrest. Trent Reznor of Nine Inch Nails recently told the New York Times: “Devo challenged the idea of what a rock band could be. It felt like rock was mutating. It made me realize, ‘Oh, there aren’t any rules. You know, you can do anything.’” And the band has also left a stamp on cinema, from their pioneering music videos to Mothersbaugh’s TV and movie scores, which include everything from the Nickelodeon classic “Rugrats” to Wes Anderson’s “Royal Tenenbaums.”

Bands of this nature — legacy acts whose most notable releases are older than most of their fans — often have a tendency to fall flat in concert. Thankfully, this isn’t the case for Devo, who proved this weekend that they’re still one hell of a live band. The members swapped instruments throughout, the exception being drummer Jeff Friedl, who channeled the “human metronome” moniker of their longtime drummer Alan Meyers, who let his bandmates’ washes of guitar distortion and screaming synthesizers take center stage. Devo’s always been a fan of covers, and the back-to-back punch of “(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction” and “Secret Agent Man” proved to be highlights, but the musicianship throughout put many hotshot younger bands to shame.

Part of what made the show so much fun was the fans. Many came dressed in costume, but those that didn’t queued in lines wrapping around the lobby for a chance to throw down $50 for their own personal energy domes. Although Golden Gate Theatre is a seated venue, excitable “spuds” spilled into the aisles and stood dancing in place for most of the set.

For the band’s last song, Mothersbaugh disappeared from the stage, replaced instead by his masked alter ego Booji Boy. It was one final bizarre moment of the set, and for most fans in attendance, will be their final memory of seeing the band live. That is, unless they can wait another 50 years.

“See you in 2073!” said Mothersbaugh, waving a final farewell to his faithful spuds.