As art-rock pranks go, Devo's marriage of stylised sci-fi geek chic and turbo-charged new wave power-pop was a cartoon riot of high-concept bubblegum satire that laughed at itself as well as the system that spawned it. Thirty-five years on from the band's initial grouping in Akron, Ohio, and touring for the first time in 15 years, Devo remain a thrilling mix of performance art and pop - the kind of thing the likes of Chicks on Speed have appropriated wholesale, only without any of the tunes.

Clad in trademark yellow boiler suits and Bill and Ben "energy dome" hats (on sale for only £18 at the merchandise stall), Devo offered their retrograde cod-philosophy of de-evolution. Having begun by acknowledging man's ongoing backward slide during the Nixon and Reagan eras, it has, during the Bush administration, unwittingly found its time. The same goes for the music: strip away the outfits and self-conscious quirks (indeed, the band themselves gradually disrobe to a shorts-and-T-shirts combo) and Devo's analogue synth bleeps and taut, stop-start guitar anthems sound utterly, adolescently now.

The live routine itself has barely changed. Lined up in a row at the front of the stage, for 75 breathless minutes Devo power through their greatest hits with such none-stop twitchiness as to suggest they're running on long-life batteries. When the energy domes are removed, the band's now visible grey hair only accentuates their oddness. They may not be that much younger than the Rolling Stones, but Devo's version of Satisfaction remains a classic rock 'n' roll deconstruction.

There's something triumphal about Devo's revenge-of-the-nerds routine, and when vocalist Mark Mothersbaugh returns for the encore as overgrown infant Booji Boy to sing Beautiful World, Devo's mission looks wonderfully complete.