Staff Editor on February 15th, 2014

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By Mo Herms

“How many of you have seen us live before,” asked Ken Andrews, lead vocalist of ’90s heavy rock outfit Failure, to a capacity crowd at the El Rey Theatre on Thursday night. When about half of those in attendance raised their hands, he exclaimed, “We have a a lot of new fans!”

“No,” responded Greg Edwards, the musical yin to Andrews yang, “those are just their kids.”

• ||| Photos by Carl Pocket

Failure debuted in 1992 as a trio, bulked up to a quartet for a while, and broke up in 1997 after three albums and much acclaim but no Top 40 type hits to speak of. Andrews and Edwards were always the core; the pop sensibilities of Andrews’ melodic take complementing the trippier presentation of Edwards, often creating an epic art rock sound that was far enough away from the popular grunge of the day that labels simply didn’t know how to market them. Other musicians adored the band, though, along with a core group of die-hard fans that helped sell out this reunion show at the El Rey in just under four minutes.

Not surprisingly for a group heavily influenced by movies and science fiction, their “opener” was a short film montage of celluloid faves and cartoons, all of which served as the theme with the evening. This even became the backdrop for their first track, “Another Space Song,” the beat of which was in time with a scene from the film “Fantastic Planet.” Suddenly the screen was torn from the stage and there was Failure, live and in control. Rounded out by drummer Kellii Scott, they had returned in tight trio form.

Failure was always very precise in its movements, and their live show Thursday was no exception. Their meticulous approach to making music was applied to the stage, too, so one shouldn’t have expected much variance from what was on record. However, hearing these big theatrical tracks live was an experience in and of itself.

The first part of the show consisted of the rockers, Edwards’ bass practically hitting the audience in the gut with the chords to “Frogs,” from their second album “Magnified.” That led into a couple of guitar assaults courtesy of Andrews via “Saturday Saviour” and “Sergeant Politeness,” both from “Fantastic Planet,” their final and most ambitious album, which proved to be the main source of material for the evening.

The two were known for being flexible in the writing and recording process, so in the middle of the set, they broke off a bit and changed it up. Edwards strummed the pretty “Segue 3,” which put him on lead guitar and keyboard duty while Andrews took over on the bass. At this point they got fittingly spacey. The hypnotic groove of “Blank,” the dreamy sadness of “Solaris” and the sludge of “Heliotropic” (they actually changed up the end with an edge towards the dramatic, which the crowd loved) all led to another instrument switch and strong finish of songs from “Fantastic Planet” – which proved these guys could definitely rock the laseriums should it ever come to that.

Then came “The Nurse Who Loved Me” – covered seven years after its release by A Perfect Circle – which proved a beautiful delicacy that morphed into thunder as it transitioned into the bombastic closer of “Daylight.”

So is that all the crowd would get after a 17-year (give or take) wait? There was one encore that consisted of a track from each album … Yes, the final track of the night was the one and only song from their first album “Comfort” (a Steve Albini-produced affair that, it turned out, the band didn’t love). Still, “Screen Man” fit right into the dark and dirgey vibe Failure had created during the evening.

A special treat from a special band, belatedly being recognized in their hometown with a sold-out crowd in a venue they never could have filled when they were around the first time. At long last perhaps, the ironically named Failure had won the race several years after they thought they had lost it.