FAILURE — The Rising Skyline Tour

with quannnic

Funtime Presents

FAILURE

THE RISING SKYLINE TOUR

with special guest

quannnic

Ages 12+, Minors under 16 must be accompanied by a parent

Magnified VIP

Includes:

-Early entry and watch soundcheck -Hang with the band. -Professional photo and signing. -Laminate and lanyard -Exclusive lapel Pin -Exclusive Location Lost tote bag -10% off on merch, and first access.

For a band so closely associated with weight, density, and mass, Failure have spent much of their career writing about what happens when those things fall away. Bodies drift. Memories fragment. Signals distort. Gravity fails. But even after 30 years, the hugely influential trio of Ken Andrews, Greg Edwards, and Kelli Scott are still following the sound wherever it leads, even when it's uncomfortable, unfamiliar, or disruptive.

Location Lost, the band's seventh album and their fourth since improbably reuniting in 2014 after a 17-year-hiatus, doesn't arrive as a victory lap or a nostalgia exercise. Instead, it sounds like a band actively negotiating where — and who — they are now. "It's very different," Edwards says plainly of the nine-song follow-up to 2021's Wild Type Droid. "There are sounds and parts that really don't have any precedence within the Failure world."

That sense of divergence is inseparable from how Location Lost came together. Following Wild Type Droid, Failure completed a long-gestating documentary (Every Time You Lose Your Mind) and concert film (We Are Hallucinations) that chronicled their history, drug-marred breakup, and improbable second life playing for a newfound younger and more diverse audience. The process was exhaustive, and revealing.

Almost immediately after finishing the film, Andrews suffered a serious back injury that required surgery. The operation was technically successful; the recovery was not. "It kind of messed up my brain chemistry somehow," he says. "It wasn't just physical recovery." By late 2024, Failure were finally able to begin recording in earnest.

As with Wild Type Droid, Andrews, Edwards, and Scott rented a studio and spent weeks improvising together as a trio, recording hours of unfiltered material without overthinking where it might lead. But the dynamic inside those sessions had shifted.

Andrews, still recovering, felt creatively unmoored. "I was participating, but my editorial side just wasn't working," he says. "Luckily, Kelli and Greg were able to step up and take the lead in terms of confidently saying, 'that was a good idea.' We had a lot of material, but I didn't know what it was." Edwards noticed it too.

"Ken was there in actual physical bodily presence," he says, "but I don't feel like he was really able to get lost in the music or become part of the flow of that creative part of the record. Even if you're the most well-adjusted person in the world, surgery has an emotional dimension. It can be destabilizing."

When Andrews took the sessions back to his L.A. home studio and began shaping them into songs, something unexpected happened. "I had a burst of creativity—especially lyrically. Since we rebooted, Greg's been the more dominant lyrical force. That completely flipped on this record," but not…