The implication of the “new wave” in the late 1970s was, of course, that there was an old guard, and that it had to be replaced. And with the rise of these new groups, everything before them had to adapt or go down with guns blazing. I can’t help but feel that Styx was trying to do both with “Mr. Roboto” in 1983.
“Mr. Roboto” puts forth the less-than-original idea that in this topsy-turvy modern world, technology’s wonders can come back to bite their masters in their neoteric butts. In case “Roboto” listeners had somehow avoided the flood of movies and books espousing similar ideas at the time, Dennis DeYoung shouts “Machines dehumanize!” a few times to underscore his thesis. And why not? Styx was watching its contemporaries drop like flies to foppish haircuts and Roland Jupiter-8s. If the band’s members didn’t want to become museum pieces themselves, they had to adapt.
“Mr. Roboto” has dated poorly, Beetle commercial notwithstanding. It doesn’t measure up very well against Yes’ juicier “Owner of a Lonely Heart”: At a particularly pecuniary point in that band’s career, with Yes half-disintegrated, the members were wise enough to call in a professional for their new wave crossover. Styx soldiered on alone and “Roboto” is nonetheless an entry point for a younger generation that had never heard “Babe” or “Blue Collar Man” or even “Lady.” To young listeners, it is simultaneously the band’s greatest achievement and its greatest shame. At a July White Sox game, my friend spotted former Styx singer Dennis DeYoung walking through the parking lot at U.S. Cellular Field, near the Roseland neighborhood where he and some of the other members of Styx grew up. My friend yelled “Mr. Roboto!” at the top of his lungs. Dennis did not turn around.
The song itself? Solid, predictable, but weighted with one frequently overlooked highlight. Everyone is familiar with the titular robot chant, but on top of that, at the 3:50 minute mark, DeYoung breaks from the mechanical “Domo Arigato, Mr. Roboto” to sing “thank you very much Mr. Roboto, for helping me escape” and then operatically wail “When I needed to, thank you… Thank you, thank you, I want to thank you…”
What comes next – “The problem’s plain to see / too much technology” – seems redundant by comparison.