Back in the ’70s, Leonard Nimoy came out with a book called “I Am Not Spock.” Nimoy felt as though Spock was only one character he did out of many. And while I wish I could say the same thing for myself, I can’t.
I am JBOT. That’s who I am. All my friends call me JBOT. My niece calls me JBOT. There’s no separation between my life in the band and my life as a human tortured by robots.
I created this robot band nine years ago with the hope of creating bandmates that would do my bidding. I was successful only in selective ways. Sure, I have robots that can rock harder than most human bands, but what have I lost in the process? I tour alone, set up and break down the robots every night by myself, and the only comments I get from the robots about all this hard work is a big, “(Expletive) you, JBOT.”
They used to torture me on- and offstage, humiliating me in front of all my human peers. Now our relationship has mellowed into a more functionally dysfunctional relationship. The robots still dream of world domination and the end of the human race. Maybe they’ve come to realize that it’s a longer process to conquer humanity than just a few years’ time. This isn’t to say that they’ve lessened their hatred for humans, especially me. They still find the time at every show to ridicule me and make fun of my Jewish heritage.
Some people will say that I am not captured by robots, and this is all some gimmick to bring people to the shows. I challenge that. When on the road, after driving six to 10 hours a day, load-in and setup begins, taking approximately three or more hours. During this time or after, repairs to the robots need to be made, but sometimes there’s just not enough time. Then I have to perform with my mean and angry robots and have them call me names.
Then comes time for breakdown and load-out, which takes about an hour and a half, at least. Then after a few hours of sleep, the process begins again, and hopefully there will be no van problems to mess up the schedule. As some of you may know, we missed Denver two times in a row because of separate van-breakdown incidents.
Touring with robots can really be a slice of hell. This huge amount of work for one person is truly backbreaking. I’m captured in a cycle that repeats and repeats and repeats until the tour is done. Once the tour is over, the torture doesn’t end. The robots need to be repaired. They live in my tiny apartment, and they always want to be the one to hold the remote control to the TV.
Don’t get me wrong, it used to be a lot worse. They used to activate the bio-cerebral chip in my head, often causing a sensation similar to a seizure. I’m glad those days are over. Now we’re more like an old married couple. There’s a lot of nagging and insulting, but deep down there is love. I speak for myself only. I hope the robots care for me in some way being that I am their daddy, but who knows? All I can say for certain is this … I done made me a band of robots, and we totally rock. If it’s my destiny to suffer for that robotic rockdom, well then I say, “Make it so.”
Captured! By Robots plays the Lion’s Lair on Sunday, with The Inactivists opening. Tickets, $7, are available via TicketWeb.
