MR. ROBOTO

I'm constantly getting captured by shit because of these chains," says 29-year-old Jason Vance, who faces a very specific set of problems as the lone human in a band of robots. The San Francisco guitarist/keyboardist started building bionic bandmates out of bike chains and John Deere gearshifts in 1996; then, he claims, "I woke up with a chip in my head." Rechristened JBOT by his robots, Vance (who almost never breaks character) is sometimes "forced" to tour as Captured! By Robots. He perfoms in shackles, fake entrails streaming. "The robots say it makes me look better," he explains. Indeed, it's hard not to be riveted by a guy in a bondage mask playing a thrash-metal song called "Don't Break My Balls," accompanied by and automated Autoharp and a pneumatically engineered drum set. Though every robot has a distinct voice and a dastardly personality, they each share a single purpose: to alert humans that they're on the way out by relentlessly humiliating and degrading their ostensible leader. The only one sticking to the prime directive ("A robot may not harm a human being") is the lovable, tambourine-playing Ape Which Hath No Name, built by JBOT to keep him company. Not that Vacnce has much free time: He's planning a fall tour, chronicling his struggles on capturedbyrobots.com, and building AUTOMATOM (an expansion unit needed for "rockin' fills" like the ones Neil Peart supplied for Rush). And while JBOT used to attempt resistance, he says the "band" relationship has mellowed into something like a functionally dysfunctional marriage. "The robots don't say what kind of chordal movement I have to make or what style," Vance says. "So I'm enslaved but free at the same time."

TONY WARE

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