Isn't Daft Punk's costuming just another iteration of what makes great art truly great -- the accompanying drama and spectacle? KISS is a simple, basic band, but the images of the Demon, the Cat, the Moon guy and whatever Paul Stanley was supposed to be are indelibly etched in the collective imagination of All Things Cool. Whether it's Iggy Pop's manic drug-addled writhing, Madonna's contrived Catholic-baiting writhing, Jackson Pollock pissing in some art dealer's fireplace or Van Gogh cutting his ear off on an absinthe bender, we look for the personalities and danger that speak to great art. The current crop of 'it' bands -- from Arcade Fire to the National -- portray themselves as the exhausted middle-age dads they are, and that's really, really boring. The Daft Punkbots give us what we've always craved with our greatest artists: a fantasy in which to partake.