The Foxymorons are singer-guitarists David Dewese (left) and Jerry James. (Provided by The Foxymorons)
The virtues of the sporadic musical project are easy to see. Without the pressures of a full-time touring gig, artists can experiment and otherwise enjoy themselves. The results are often looser and more inspired than the projects they’re best known for — think Damon Albarn (Blur vs. Gorillaz), Kim Deal (Pixies vs. The Breeders), Lou Barlow (Dinosaur Jr. vs. Sebadoh) or Ben Gibbard (Death Cab for Cutie vs. Postal Service).
The drawbacks are practically built into the project, however. Problems that dogged the artist elsewhere may linger in the new incarnation. If something is sporadic and therefore easily set aside for years, progress is hard to measure. If there’s little pressure to begin with — time-wise, economic, etc. — a more casual approach pretty much rules the day, resulting in something that can be alternately self-indulgent and out of practice.
aren’t exactly a side project, but they are inherently sporadic. Jerry James and David Dewese, who have been buddies since their childhood in Mesquite, Texas, began playing music together after finding a drumkit in an abandoned church in the mid-’90s. After a well-received 7-inch and four randomly released full-lengths of wry indie rock and pop, they’ve returned with their first new album in five years, “Fake Yoga.” Now in their 40s, the guys have wedged their latest passion project between the slices of life that soak up most of their time.
Their complementary voices require a careful balance, and the band usually excels at finding it. It’s not simply that they walk the line between a focused, full-time gig and something they bang out when they’re inspired or available. It’s that newcomers might find James’ cracked, tinder-dry voice and Dewese’s rich, smooth crooning a bit of a stylistic contradiction. Similarly, James’ and Dewese’s songwriting and playing styles are alternately loose and manicured, rambling and plotted. It’s part of the band’s charm, and something that wasn’t out of place during the ’90s indie rock genesis.
New album “Fake Yoga,” their first in five years, is a bittersweet document in every way. Its tone wavers between wounded and joyous, cynical and guileless. It suffers from some of the same songwriting and pacing issues as previous full-lengths, but its highs are loftier than anything the band has released. Credit goes in part to drummer Will Johnson, who’s best known for his work in fuzz-rock titans Centro-matic or the haunting, spare South San Gabriel. Johnson, who previously drummed on three songs on the Foxymorons’ 2001 release “Rodeo City,” provides the band’s best backbeats so far, especially on the triumphant, blissed-out “Permanent Frown” — which sounds like a sugar-coated nugget of ’70s glam-pop being digested by an alt-rocker.
Dewese’s innate understanding of Big Star pop melodies pays off repeatedly on the otherwise noisy record, playing the sophisticated foil to James’ straightforward laments. The balance isn’t always there, particularly with numerous James songs back-to-back without the bubble-grunge lift of Dewese’s voice, but the subtle Velvet Underground textures of “Hugs/Drugs” and the Pixies-like lope of “Slow Geometry” make “Fake Yoga” a consistently rewarding guitar album (and a tight one, clocking in just over a half-hour in 10 songs).
