Playing the Long Game

Interview with Y.A.P.O.’s James Valenzuela

From Issue 4.4, Winter 2019

James Valenzuela is still angry as hell.

The Y.A.P.O. singer and lone original member of the band – some might perhaps call the Godfather of SGV punk – hasn’t softened over the course of the 35 years since the San Gabriel Valley band came into existence.

“To this day, I’m bodysuited, tattooed with nothing but anger all over me,” Valenzuela said during a recent phone call to talk about the past, present and future of the band and the SGV punk community. “You know, I got older and I just got madder at other things. I’ve always been pissed off about the working man getting fucked. Still to this day. Punkers who I don’t see them do the right thing in my mind. There used to be so many magazines that were underground. That’s how we fed off each other. Through that. Nowadays, I believe kids are just spiking their hair and dressing like sheep. They flock to buy punk rock. They go to shows and they have fun, which is OK. But I like when people are more informed. Altogether informed and understanding why we’re all dressing this way, why we’re all into this scene. That makes more sense to me. I’m like an old man saying ‘Get off my lawn,’ but, yeah. My girlfriend goes ‘You’re one old, pissed off son of a bitch.’”

The thing is, it’s kind of too easy and maybe too lazy for people who don’t know Valenzuela that well to cast him off as some bitter “old man,” recounting stories of how things were better back in the day, because the future of Y.A.P.O. is as relevant as the respect Valenzuela has a tendency to command within the scene. At its height, Y.A.P.O. played with bands such as Agnostic Front and Chaos U.K., while Valenzuela helped cultivate the backyard scene hosting many shows in his own backyard. Today, Y.A.P.O. still plays, but it’s evolved with the times – applicable and informed, working on new material and reflecting the mix of its members as it’s changed over the years.

“There was a time where Y.A.P.O. was very political. We were anti-war but at the same time we wanted to be humorous. We have songs like ‘Happy’: I hate you. You hate me. It’s about girls. So we went both ways on that side of [serious versus humorous]. But as time went on, I got new members in the band and they were freaking 20 years younger than me and they would tell me ‘Hey, I’m a big fan of your band. I play guitar. I play bass. Any room for us to play?’ I go ‘OK.’”

It's not unlike how the seeds of Y.A.P.O. were first sown. It was 1984 and Valenzuela and bass player Tony were sophomores in high school. A group slowly began forming of kids into punk rock, who would hang out in a small brick tunnel, bonding over their shared taste in music. When the group grew to around eight, the kids started talking about who could play what instrument, forming a plan to meet up in a garage, “and it went from there,” Valenzuela said of the early days.

“We were pretty horrible I’d say the first six or seven years and then, you know, we got a lot better at our instruments,” he said. “We started tuning our instruments, and I got a lot better. From there, we’d break up, get together, I’d get new members and those members were actually musicians. In the beginning, we weren’t musicians.”

The band’s first tape materialized in 1987, followed by three more, before 1995 when Y.A.P.O. joined the Beer City Records family and its first 7-inch was released.
“People were like ‘Why did it take you guys 11 years to do a record?’ I go ‘Cause nobody asked us.’ And that was a good label and that label is still good today.”

The band toured up north in places, such as Oakland and nearby states, such as Arizona and Nevada.

A Reno show sticks out in particular for Valenzuela.

“We had a hell of a time. When we get to Reno, we found out the bars don’t close, so we’re like ‘Oh, my god.’ So they’re treating us like a big time band. We’re just an average band. My friend, Big Mike [Thretning Verse], who’s an incredible promoter and tour manager to this day, from the SGV, he got us on this show. I don’t know what he told them, but people thought we were The Cramps or something. We go up there and they’re giving us free liquor, free liquor, free liquor. And I’m like, ‘Wow.’ So we go on stage and I say ‘We’re Y.A.P.O. from New York City’ and they go beserk. And I’m laughing my ass off and we play a whole set. And when we’re done, we walk off stage and there’s people giving us hugs and asking ‘How’s New York?’ I’m like, shit. I didn’t want to tell them.

Four months ago, Baldwin Park had all the good bands in a backyard – Beauty Brains, Masaker 69, Lady Rot, Dead Punks, Slum Brigade. I went up there and I did the same thing, ‘We’re Y.A.P.O from New York City.’ Some of the kids had no idea.”

Personal history is always good context for explaining motivations. Valenzuela and bassist Tony had what the former described as a “hard, rough life.”

“Our fathers kicked us out. Me and Tony lived in cars, and we were just very pissed off. Family life was terrible and when it came to our music, we screamed, bitched and moaned about our lives.”

It was amid those circumstances, they gravitated to punk. The Grand Olympic Auditorium in L.A., in some ways, became their church, getting out their aggression and anger at the shows.

“It was one of the scariest places in the world,” Valenzuela said of the Olympic. “But, at the same time, we loved it. It was 6,000 people going beserk. We’ve seen every punk band there, from G.B.H. to Agnostic Front. We were terrified, but we just kept going. And, we grew into who we were.”

The early days were marked with fighting, going toe-to-toe with racists at shows across the area that usually erupted into violent brawls.

“The bands were incredible,” Valenzuela said. “There was one time Agnostic Front opened up for The Dickies and then G.B.H. played after. You see those three bands and it’s like ‘Wow.’ So that’s why you went back and once you got over your fear, you just knew certain areas not to go. There were times we’d see people get their heads split open, people in convulsions. There’d be an inch of urine and beer on the floor. Just ridiculous.”

Valenzuela and Tony would also frequent Oscar’s Cornhuskers in Azusa, around 1986.

“We’d get dressed up, put eyeliner on and then we’d head over. It was right off of Foothill. We saw The Dickies. There was Social Distortion, Mad Parade, Government Issue in front of like 20 people at each show. That’s how old it was. And I’m thinking this is so cool, but we didn’t realize what the hell was going on. These bands were great, but we didn’t realize they were going to be big.”

It brings to mind that adage, the more things change, the more they stay the same.

As old as the band is and for as much change has happened on the surface – whether you’re talking about technology and social media or the scant number of physical flyers or zines today – the meaning of what “the scene” or “punk rock” means to any one individual is just as palpable in the decade Y.A.P.O was born out of as it was in a Baldwin Park backyard earlier this year when the crowd sang along with Valenzuela during the set. Valenzuela remains the constant.

“People started having kids and we stopped the band for a while and then probably four years later we regrouped, started playing,” he said. “It was always on and off. One guy would go to jail. One guy would go to the mental institution. One guy would have kids. There was always some kind of excuse.”

Today the band’s working on new material for a five-song EP. There’s no shortage of things that irritate the shit out of Valenzuela, as he would say. And, thus, there’s really no reason to stop, especially when interest still remains in the band.

“I get these younger guys coming up and asking about playing, and we [re-]start the band,” Valenzuela said. “I’m 51. My guitar player’s 26. My bassist 29. Drummer’s 23. I just keep getting these young fellas that like and respect Y.A.P.O. They want to make the band go and I go ‘Fuck, yeah. Let’s do that.’”

1.11.2021 Update: Rest in peace, James. It took over a decade after you writing a letter to this zine for me to finally shake your hand in person and I’m grateful to you for the supportive words. You got the point of all of this from the beginning. Thank you.