Blues DEVOlution Brothers Band Dream

Woke up a few minutes ago from the weirdest dream....

I was at some kind of craft bazaar at a large, multibuilding convention center with my family. We were wandering up and down the aisles, as one would expect to do at such a thing, looking at various craftily-made objects and gee-whiz neato cool inventions for the home. For reasons that would soon be made very clear to me, the music of DEVO was playing throughout the convention center. (The first song I recognized was the immortal "Whipit"). We exited one building, and, in a bid to get some additional grape juice and peanut butter from a food stand outside (sue me, it's a dream), I lost Kat and the girls. Oh, and Kat's Aunt Barb was with us, too. All of 'em were heading into the next building, the somewhat more obscure "Gates of Steel" playing over an unseen sound system all the while.
When I made it to the next building, I found out the reason for the DEVO focus - the band itself was playing! A rollicking live version of "Whipit" was blasting through a building that looked like some church's fellowship hall. About twelve people were scattered among about 200 seats, one of them being Kat's Aunt Barb, sitting a respectable distance from the stage. Seeing my chance to watch one of my favorite bands up close, I charged the stage, only to find most of the metal folding chairs we used for Christmas dinner occupied by various and sundry teenagers, including one who looked like a young, skinny version of Hurley from "Lost" and another who appeared to be an immensely fat shirtless eight-year-old boy covered in diamond-shaped tattoos from the waist up. He high-fived me, while I thought to myself a "fist punch" might have been more appropriate for the youngster. Oh, well.
Two youngish women had joined DEVO, and were wearing appropriately weird outfits, with B-52's-inspired bouffant hairdos done up in goth colors. One played guitar, the other, keyboards. Or maybe it was a sliced ham she was playing.
As "Whipit" died out, I tried to take pictures with my Canon digital camera, which had inexplicably turned black. It also was a pain in the butt to take good pictures with, just like its real-life counterpart. (Too complicated a camera for me - I need a straight point-and-shoot kind).
A grandmotherly-type woman came out onstage and told everyone they'd be holding the famous "Rawhide" impersonation contest. You know, like when Jake and Elwood Blues sang the theme from the old TV show at the country and western bar to keep from getting beaten up? (Yes, this is where the Blues Brothers finally came into my dream). I stood in line at the side of the stage in order to get a spot on the docket to sing, only to find I was in line for popcorn, apparently being dispensed by relatives of the band. I asked Grandevoma where I needed to go to sign up to sing "Rawhide," and she gently pointed me around to the front of the stage, which, oddly enough, was a more expanded concession stand. they weren't going to let me sing, but I begged, and I was allowed to join the small group. I heard my wife say from the back of the auditorium to the girls "he's going to sing "Rawhide!"
As my dream slowly faded away with my rise to consciousness (thankfully a natural process, unhindered by an alarm clock during these Christmas vacation days), Skinny Hurley, Tattoo Boy and Grandevoma and I waited serenely for the first strains of "Rawhide" to filter from the stage.