Failure‘s debut album, Comfort, does something right away that the band loves doing – making you uncomfortable. This is often done through cryptic lyrics that challenge one’s thoughts on reality and fantasy, technology and humanity, or love and despair…all with crushing shoegaze riffs and masterful production. Comfort gets you unsettled right out of the gate with the album’s cover. Who is that girl? Is that a shadow of a cow behind her? Or a minotaur? Is it supposed to be her shadow? I don’t know, and the album’s songs don’t give a hint either…which is part of the fun, really.
“Submission” might be about sex, but I think it’s more about how easy it is to get trapped in the rat race (“They work hard and they sell things. We like that, ’cause there’s no choice.”). Failure waste no time in pummeling you with thick bass (courtesy of Greg Edwards) on the track, and then Robert Gauss pummels you further on “Macaque” – which is literally about a monkey lead singer Ken Andrews saw in a Los Angeles zoo that provided him with a Zen-like moment of enlightenment. Andrews’ guitar on “Something” swells and builds like river water casually drifting along one moment and then turning into a racing current below the surface the next.
“Screen Man” has a sense of menace throughout it, which is appropriate since it’s about a man on Andrews’ TV screen who freaks the hell out of him (“This man’s eyes are serious. He’s the man in my screen. I cannot let him frighten me.”). Andrews’ guitar is like lightning you see on the horizon (And the solo? Holy crap.), whereas Edwards’ bass is distant thunder, and Gauss’ drums are the wind that keeps building as the clouds get closer.
On “Swallow,” producer Steve Albini hung a microphone from the ceiling and swung it like a pendulum to record Andrews’ vocals during the first verse, causing a weird panning effect and being a neat example of the kind of stuff Failure love experimenting with in a studio setting. “Muffled Snaps” continues some of this experimentation with Gauss’ drums taking on odd sounds and Andrews’ guitar nearly sounding broken until the song bursts forth like dragster. The lyrics reference physical violence, and it seems to be a song about boxing…or at least fighting. It certainly hits like a boxing match.
Gauss’ drums on “Kindred” are sharp, hitting hard in all the right places. “Pro-Catastrophe” is a whopper, with Andrews flat-out telling people he’s looking forward to an apocalypse and watching chaos unfold around him. Little did he know, that in 2020…Edwards goes nuts on a fretless bass throughout it, often making your head spin with the licks he puts down on it.
“Princess” is sort of a love song, as Andrews sings praises to his lady pal (“I’m always pleased that you don’t say no.”). It’s a burner that’s over before you catch your breath. The album ends with “Salt Wound,” a song about one of Failure’s favorite subjects – relationships going awry. The trio unleash a sound that reflect Andrews’ confusion about why his girl is leaving him and the nervousness that comes with a future alone. Edwards’ bass pounds in your brain, Andrews’ guitar dissolves into a jumbled rage, and Gauss’ drums are a pounding heartbeat ready to burst.
Comfort heralded great things to come for Failure. It’s a great place to start if you’re new to them. Hearing how they evolved from this is a neat journey, and the remaster of the album done by the band in 2023 is sharp.
Keep your mind open.
[It would be a comfort to me if you subscribed today.]
