photos by Mark Rawlings design by Jay Huerbin

It was Mr. Roboto Project’s… photos by Mark Rawlings design by Jay Huerbin

It was Mr. Roboto Project’s annual Attention Deficit Disorder Fest, a night where the music switched so quickly, listeners’ minds were bound to get tangled.

Ten bands were each allowed a 10-minute set before handing off the reins to the next performers.

With no consistent musical genre, the audience couldn’t anticipate what was coming next, especially when one solo artist stripped down to a thong in the middle of his set. Suddenly a mini music festival turned into a moment few attendees would forget.

Within the walls of Wilkinsburg’s Mr. Roboto Project, a tiny room with neither air conditioning nor heat, people gather to create, perform and enjoy art in its many forms – even if that involves a man playing the guitar in skimpy underwear.

The venue runs on a do-it-yourself mantra and opens its doors to everything from visual art and comedy acts to all categories of music. Roboto was founded in November 1999 by a group of people looking for a less commercialized space to share innovation and craftsmanship.

The location, which is currently a one-room domain with no stage and colorful walls, has been modified and remodeled since, but the ideas are the same.

“It’s something for the kids, by the kids,” said Greg Kamerdze, secretary and promotions director at Roboto, adding that even if one is not exactly a kid, “music is for the young at heart.”

Roboto’s condensed performance space and emphasis on volunteerism make it part of a rare breed in the music scene, but nonetheless, it has its fair share of competition within Pittsburgh. Garfield Artworks, Modern Formations and The Lilypad are just a few local places that offer the same intimate setting and music variety as Roboto.

“Roboto has this reputation that it’s either too much of something or too little of something, too P.C., too little, too big, not P.C. enough,” said Kamerdze, who identifies the bar scene as Roboto’s true competition. “But bar shows aren’t all ages and are more focused on getting drunk,” he added.

According to Kamerdze, Roboto’s main goal is to make music accessible, whether a person wants to hear it or make it. Being that the biggest sign inside Mr. Roboto Project is a plain white board that reads, “Now go start your own band,” this goal is not only an idea but also an action in progress.

“We want to create a more fertile ground for all music,” said Kamerdze. “We strive to create a safe space where anyone and everyone is welcome.”

Though Roboto survives through music and performance, its emphasis on community has kept it competitive in the Pittsburgh scene. It’s a punk venue in that it represents a tiny subculture that has come together with a common mode of expression. Influenced by the strict rules at the 924 Gilman Street venue in Berkeley, Calif., Roboto strives to create a similar environment for “musical equality,” a common ground for everyone involved. It says yes to all ages and no to smoking and drinking, hoping to deviate from the bar scene and focus solely on the performances. The establishment promotes freedom of speech but denies personal alienation of any kind.

Roboto’s membership rules state that any “performers with sexist, racist or homophobic material, or material that otherwise disrespects or threatens individuals, may be denied the chance to perform at Roboto.”

The space subsists on a small board of directors and a group of loyal members. Though members contribute an initial fee of $25 and an annual fee of $10, their effort, and not their financial input, is the oil that keeps Roboto from rusting.

As a member, one attends monthly general meetings, helps with clean up, enforces Roboto rules and, most importantly, selects and schedules bands for shows.

Members do all the leg work on their own,” said Brian Gruetze, booking coordinator at Roboto. “It’s very D.I.Y., you take responsibility for doing it on your own, take the money and do the promotion.”

With this personalized style of booking, bands don’t get in touch with one source, but instead schedule their slots by getting in touch with any Roboto member.

Because members book the bands they want, it’s difficult to identify a Roboto “mold,” or a type of music most often seen. In a world where people add chart-topping pop songs to their iTunes libraries without ever leaving their couches, Roboto offers a home for independent music to grow.

“In music in general, there’s a problem with reaching new people,” Gruetze said. “People just want to stay home and download, don’t want to step out of their box.”

Since there is no personal profit being made at Mr. Roboto Project – none for the bands making the music or the people running the place – all money goes into keeping the electricity running and offering a space for creativity.

“We want to give bands, regardless of what they sound like, a place to play,” Gruetze said.

Jen Briselli, former public relations director, said Roboto has its core, its survivors from the very beginning, but its base keeps changing and growing.

“It’s survived and been around eight years and we have found people through thick and thin who have been willing to put in their time and energy,” she said.

“It offers a stable community of people who are tolerant of each other’s ideas and sort of have a common sense of how we feel about music first and then politics, morals and the like.”

Sara Emily Kuntz, a veteran to the Pittsburgh music scene, has been going to Roboto for years. She has witnessed Roboto’s growth and its many changes, particularly an increasing numbers of attendees and the alterations in decor.

“It’s about an evolution of people,” Kuntz said. “There are always young people, every year, new people, that’s the important thing.”

Kuntz said she used to attend shows once or twice a month, but now only once every six months because of a lack of interest in the types of bands performing. Though she enjoys the small atmosphere that allows more personal connection with the music, Kuntz sees Roboto and the entire local scene losing its flair.

“I feel like we sometimes get stuck in a rut, seeing the same bands,” she explained. “There never is that perfect place to see a show.”

In a constant battle with easy-access Internet and a changing Pittsburgh music scene, Roboto and its members must stay unique in order to stay alive.

“Part of the nature of a volunteer-run place is that it depends on the energy of the people involved,” Briselli said. “It depends on an influx of ideas. If you’re not willing to go the extra mile, the space won’t be there anymore.”

Mike Tamburo and his current group, A Collaboration, are just one example of those using Roboto to experiment with music.

Though Tamburo is a solo artist primarily, he collaborates with people in the community to create new sounds, hence the title of the group. Tamburo’s band doesn’t work with the average instruments, such as guitar or drums.

Instead, he and his two friends, Josh Beyer and Mike Kasunic, employ Tibetan bowls, clarinet, a hammered dulcimer and distorted electronics to woo the audience that sits on the floor around them.

Tamburo has been coming to Roboto since its early years because he appreciates what he calls “the vitality of the underground.” “You need a group of people who have that collective goal,” he said.

In his opinion, Pittsburgh’s music scene is perfect for a D.I.Y. venue like Roboto.

“Pittsburgh is like a bubble,” said Tamburo, comparing it to big-city counterparts like Chicago and New York City. “There are really creative people here, and it’s insulated enough to work on their own ideas.”

Yet many feel Mr. Roboto needs to shed its old skin. According to Kamerdze, the space has been hoping to move for a while. These plans are only ideas at this point, but the main goals involve finding a location closer to the city and upping the occupancy level with more room.

“We like being small and intimate, but when bands get bigger or more popular, we can’t accommodate them anymore,” said Briselli.

The members involved want to create space to breathe and develop, but still maintain the familiarity and spirit that have become the identity of Mr. Roboto Project.

“A lot of people take it for granted because it’s just a music venue, but it’s something special,” said Briselli.

Kuntz agreed. “It’s about an evolution of people,” she said. “There are always young people, every year, new people, that’s the important thing.”