Ken Andrews live

Ken Andrews
Double Door, Chicago
Tuesday, March 27, 2007

Towards the end of the ’90s, the onslaught of one-hit wonders was overwhelming and in-exhaustive. So it was hardly surprising very few noticed ’90s almost-weres Failure. But for those who did find out about the band, they were both rewarded and made to suffer: rewarded because Failure was one of the best-kept secrets of the alternative nation’s last days; made to suffer because the group disbanded after a few stellar but obscure records and a few well received tours — usually with Tool.

The upside, however, was the members of Failure went on to spread their musical seeds over the following years. Collaborator extraordinaire Troy Van Leeuwen logged time in A Perfect Circle and Queens Of The Stone Age (although let’s be honest, who didn’t?), and Failure lead Ken Andrews went on to continue down his post-Failure trek with albums every few years under different nom de plumes: the more electronically-oriented ON, and the more straightforward rock-centric Year Of The Rabbit a few years later. Most recently, however, Andrews released his own proper solo debut, Secrets Of The Lost Satellite (Dinosaur Fight), which brought him — and brings us — to the recent Double Door performance.

Fashionably clad in a striking suit on a stage full of hired guns, Andrews weaved effortlessly in and out of his various projects, while still devoting headlining focus on his current batch of offerings. Satellite material ended up being the least dynamic element of the night’s playlist, as the not unremarkable “In Your Way” and “Secret Things”exemplified. Though it could be argued this was as much due to the strength of the material they were up against, as much as it could be their on their own merits. Ultimately, they served somewhat as filler between older project staples that brought the element of surprise to the evening, such as ON’s bouncy “Soluble Words,” and Year Of The Rabbit’s ominous “Hunting.” Many of the evening’s stronger moments, however, belonged to Failure songs coming out of retirement: the long-building, windup-toy-founded “Daylight” and the more alt-oriented “Sergeant Politeness,” both of which avoided letting their age keep them from coming off dated.

The most transcendent — and likely most recognizable, thanks to a high-profile cover by A Perfect Circle (always with the Maynard connection) — moment of the evening, though, came toward the end, when Andews and co. dusted off Failure fan favorite “The Nurse Who Loved Me.” A Perfect Circle’s dream-pop reworking might have helped the song live on long after it would otherwise be forgotten, but to hear the ode to a pill-pilfering nurse returned to its former glory by a full band was reason enough to have shown up in the first place.

Andrews may never top his time and body of work accomplished with Failure, but it’s just as likely he’s content to continue writing new arrangements, under different monikers, with a rotating cast of cohorts. And given his obvious respect to where he has been, anyone nursing a serious jones for Andrews’ alt-era stylings shouldn’t be left to suffer too much. And while he may never move beyond a small but devoted cult following, it’s affirming to see it hasn’t dampened his affection for the work.

— Jaime de’Medici

Category: Live Reviews, Weekly