Robot robot robot. As I was saying the title of this album to myself, it suddenly occurred to me that "robot" is a very funny word. Especially if you say it over and over and over again. Robot robot robot. Hilarious! The word actually has roots in Czech, where it refers to drudgery. It was originally used in reference to the serfs of Eastern Europe, who were expected to drone quietly through a full day of back-breaking work. Thankfully, feudalism ended centuries ago, and today we have mechanical robots to take away our jobs and do the work we'd rather not.

So, in the spirit of this robot era, I decided to build my own robot to aid me in reviewing Count Zero's latest offering, Robots Anonymous. Now, I know this sounds a little ironic, being as it is that the album title seems to emphasize the ever-popular theme of technophobia, but I assure you, Count Zero's retro-futurism never quite reaches OK Computer-ish paranoia. So, after many hard hours in my cavernous underground laboratory, I completed Pforkbot v2.0 and was ready to review the album. (Pforkbot v1.0 was a bit of a disaster; I should never have programmed it to answer my e-mail.) Here's what Pforkbot, or, as I prefer to call him, "Pforky," had to say regarding Count Zero's Robots Anonymous:

"I am a good robot. I have listened to the band called Count Zero and it is good. They employ my cousins, Moog and Minimoog, in addition to highly processed guitars to create a deep, textured sound. Sometimes, they sound like Blur, especially on 'Sham Maker.' The one who is called Peter Moore sings well, though his lyrics focus too much on human concerns for my taste. Many of them are just plain bad. I am slightly offended by the album title, but I have done my job. I am a good robot. I am a good robot. I am a good robot. I am."

Right, so Pforky didn't have much to say. I'm working on getting him to open up a little more. What he says is accurate, though, so I'll count this first experiment as a success. Count Zero's sound essentially amounts to loud, occasionally abrasive electro-pop with some mild Anglo affectations. Said affectations are indeed most prominent on "Sham Maker," which could easily be a Blur b-side, circa 13. The fact that this is probably the album's best track doesn't bode very well, but it's really only the standout due to the focus displayed in the writing. The driving verses slam hard into the rock solid hook, insuring that you'll be humming this to yourself on the train and in public restrooms.

What much of the rest of the album suffers from is a lack of focused writing. The opener, "Roach Motel," features a solid chorus and some marvelous vocals from Moore, but the song's structure is bogged down as the band goes off on aimless tangents, stretching the song about two minutes past its welcome. This segues into "Bachelor #3," a coy snapshot of a dystopian dating game show, with each verse assigned to a different character. Bachelor #3 boasts that he is ".09 microns wide and built RAM tough!/ With racing trim/ .01 microns wider than him." The Zappa-inspired weirdness gets a little too thick as the show's computer host begins spouting rhymes in iambic pentameter, but a hilarious parody of Peter Frampton's talking guitar from Frampton Comes Alive steps in to save things.

It's nice to know that Count Zero have a sense of humor about what they're doing. Similar, more serious bands almost always sink under the weight of their own pretensions. Perhaps it's a testament to Count Zero's experience. Not only is this their second full-length, but the band's members are all veterans of legendary Boston bands Psycho Tec, Think Tree, and Bongo Fury. 1996's Affluenza established their unique sound, and the studio experimentation found here feels like a natural extension of that disc's more pop-oriented approach. Pete Moore's own production is clear and punchy, and the continuous mix makes the album's eclectic grooves feel that much more cohesive.

One of the most striking things about much of this material is the genuine soul with which it's delivered. Moore's croon occasionally recalls 70's funk, and even some of Jeff Buckley's more subdued moments in spots. Songs like the groovy (really, it grooves!) "Out There" are great vehicles for his impressive range, and he lends true power to the solid hooks of "Moon 69" and "Starry Skies." Even when the lyrics aren't great, Moore's voice seems up to the task. Although no singer, no matter how good, could redeem the horrendous second verse of "Go Go Go": "They've got boobs on the brain/ Jesus Christ! They're insane!/ They get numb when they smile/ They get KUMM on your dial/ They get Karl on your marks/ Ready set go!" What is that, Kim Gordon? The intense industrial onslaught going on underneath those lyrics is actually impressive, but totally wasted on such terrible material.

The other major problem here is the band's tendency to wander. Unconventional song structures are great if used correctly, but Count Zero let songs like the closer "Cure of a Kiss" get away from them, burying an excellent chorus reminiscent of Oranges and Lemons-era XTC in the middle of a disorganized quagmire. The clever fugitive-on-the-run story of "Finnegan" is similarly lost to its unengaging surroundings, featuring an uninspired vocal turn from guitarist Will Ragano. Former Throwing Muse Bernard Georges plays bass on "Indulgences," but is really given nothing to do. Moore does work well with his lyrical subject here, though, spinning the engrossing yarn of a wealthy man who attends church just to keep up appearances.

Ultimately, Robots Anonymous is an album that reveals itself over the course of several listens, and you'll likely find yourself at least somewhat rewarded for your efforts. Count Zero are nothing if not unique and adventurous, which surely counts for something. You can't really chill out to it, but if you're looking for something that's not afraid to throw a few curve balls, you might want to pick this up. In the meantime, Pforky needs repairs. A word of advice to you robot aficionados: they don't respond well to Autechre. If you need me, I'll be at Radio Shack.

-Joe Tangari