‘Devo’ Review: Chris Smith’s Documentary About the Jump-Suited Robo-Rock Avatars of De-Evolution Is As Much Fun As Its Subject

variety.com:

Owen Gleiberman Chief Film Critic I will never forget the first time I saw Devo. It was October 14, 1978, and my college roommates and I were watching “Saturday Night Live.” The band, which I had never heard of (I would guess that was true of 98 percent of the people watching the show), came on in their yellow jumpsuits, stiff and mechanical, swiveling like angry androids as they performed their brutalist robo version of “(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction.” When the song ended, one of the band members shot up his hand in what looked kind of like a Hitler salute. (It wasn’t, but it was close enough.) At this point, the punk revolution was old news, and the new wave was in full swing.

I had eaten up the apocalyptic barbed anarchy of the Sex Pistols; I reveled in the Ramones, the Clash, Talking Heads, you name it.

But I’m not remotely exaggerating when I say that Devo doing “Satisfaction” on “SNL” remains the only musical performance I have ever seen that scared me.

They gave me the shivers. By the time the band came back for its second number, “Jocko Homo,” I’d steeled myself and was a little more ready for them.