DEVO was a revelation for me, even if it came late. In Cal Arts during the late 1970s, everyone was oblivious to DEVO, immersed in Fleetwood Mac & Queen. My return to NYC came after the flurry of attention following their SNL appearance; interest in them had by then gone underground.

By 1980, everyone knew "Whip It." I was unimpressed. In fact, I still think it's overrated. It's likely that had I know about other songs, as well as their films and running theme of de-evolution, I'd have gotten involved much sooner. It wasn't until I stumbled on a New Wave radio station in 1982 that I heard other material from the band. Their singles from New Traditionalists and Oh No! caught my attention immediately. Shortly after, I'd viewed several videos of theirs from the latter on MTV at a friend's house. The pursuit was on to find out more about them.

They were brainy misfits: performance artists somehow caught up in the cogs of the record industry. Their record label hated or feared them, and most mainstream radio stations hated or feared them. Only New Wave and college stations played their recordings (and I maintain that most of them were better than the one that hit the charts). If it hadn't been for WLIR, I would have remained oblivious.

It was difficult to track down material on the Spudboys. It was astounding that all this creativity and talent was being so actively witheld from even their own fans. So I thought I'd do something about it. If the fans couldn't rely on the industry or media for their continued reverence, perhaps they could rely on eachother. And thus Beautiful World was born.

I had learned this much in my pursuit of things DEVO: it took a certain type of person to be a real DEVOtee, someone on a particular wavelength. The wavelength carried with it an attraction to like things, be it humor, music, art, etc. So BW covered those as well, what the typical DEVO fan would be interested in beyond the band. This was essential because - let's face it - there just wasn't much I could put in about DEVO.

Mark Mothersbaugh was my only source of info from issue one. This arrangement was totally unexpected. I had met some Ohioan who stayed at a friend's place one weekend. All I recall is that he made really great collage zines out of old campy magazine ads. Before I knew it, the friend of a a friend of a friend sent me Mark's phone number. There I was, prepping this obscure little zine for xeroxing, and I was calling Mark Mothersbaugh cold.

That first call went well. We were both polite to eachother, and he'd made a good impression on me. The second call (for the second issue), I recorded the interview portion of our conversation instead of took notes, so he was "on" for it. I began to get the feeling that he didn't know what to make of me, and so in future calls, Mark started to test my limits with discussions pertaining to Tantric sex and his relationship with Larraine Newman. I already had my time as an adult illustrator and cover artist, and no stranger to New York's underground scene. So to me, none of these rantings made an impact where shock value was concerned.

Looking back, I could understand why he was on his guard. I came to glimpse at the sort of fans he allowed into his personal circle: Shallow, opportunistic, greedy... I wasn't looking for a piece of him, and I wasn't a groupie (a stigma automatically attached to any female who takes interest in anyone it seems). I was just an admirer of his work, who didn't think it deserved the oblivion hastened by the recording industry's apathy.

His tune changed when Total DEVO came out. Mark was very enthusiastic over their having signed with a new record label, and expressed a desire to for me to take advantage of the album's release to ingratiate myseld with their agency and label, perhaps become a more official voice for the fans. It was then he told me what he truly liked about Beautiful World: that it was about things DEVO and not just entirely about the band, that I had captured the spirit of what they were about.

Mark & Nancy gave me a general idea when I could reach Gerry at some manager's office for an interview about the impending release. I don't think think I'll ever forget the day for as long as I live. I had gotten permission to make long distant calls from my employer, and called repeatedly, being told that Gerald Casale would arrive any minute. Then the Challenger blew up on our studio TV...

I finally met Mark & Nancye at a gallery opening in Manhattan for Mark's lithographs. We were on equal ground, with mutual acquaintances in the NYC art scene. It certainly made for an interesting setting to meet someone I admired from afar for so many years, as well as several BW readers and contributors who made it for the event. I don't believe I let on that, at some point, in the blacklight room, I was accutely aware of Mark sitting in the dimness of the room, simply observing me and my friends intently as we conversed.

Over the course of the late 1980's, I'd come across a couple of people with stories about DEVO. One was about their friend, who apparently got lucky and was invited backstage. The other was a co-worker, who moonlighted as a bassist for a band; he and his bandmates were invited. Although these alleged incidents occurred at different times and were related by two totally unrelated people, the phrase "the were doing large amounts of cocaine" was common to both stories with regard to the band as a whole. While this didn't particularly jar me - after all, they WERE caught up in the music industry - I was disappointed that Gerry had made it a point to distance himself from the typical rock star indulgences in several published interviews. Why mention anything at all then?

My single concert experience was mixed. My friends and I were welcome guests by Mark to the soundcheck and the show at the Ritz in lower Manhattan. That was great. It was when the so-called fans came in that the fun ended. The people we had to contend with were the biggest pinkboy jerks: richkids from hell, who pushed and crushed us. When asked to stop, they spouted DEVOisms out of context. Someone stole my jacket. It was a nightmare. The aftershow party was amusing if not surreal, when Bob #1 fed me an odd pickup line. I played dumb and distanced myself from him (see that part about female fans and stigma). I was sick for 2 weeks from going home without a jacket. Great experience.

The straw that broke it for me was when I had gifted Mark with an impressive collection of DEVO TV appearances, press conferences, and interviews on videocassette. He had been a nomad for much of the late 1970's through early 1980s, and never really had a chance to capture anything during the frenzy. He was very grateful, and sent me a tape of videos and such in exchange. Not long after, he asked me whether I could make another set for Gerry. I did, feeling that I'd done my duty, and these two had something to show for those years. Except Gerry never got the video. Remember Mark's inner circle of leeching fans? A recent addition to the group - one who obviously lacked seniority in their little pecking order - carelessly contacted me and requested a set like the one I made for a rival buttkisser. That was the end of it for me. I wrote a letter, giving Mark what for, and terminated BW. Any further subscriptions which came in went return to sender. The band's founders were no better than the people they rankled on, and their fans - with few exceptions - were no better than any other band's fans. No mo' DE VO.

It hasn't been easy writing this, after what happened. But thinking about this all over again prompted me to watch "We're All DEVO" for the first time since then. I thought: what incredible stuff. Then: what a shame. It truly was.