| Out of prison and armed with a stockpile of knowledge, 18-year-old Yaoh set out to conquer minds with the only weapon he had: a karaoke machine. Before his imprisonment, Yaoh was part of a rap group at Costa Mesa High called Twice the Flavor. While his partner held fast to the standard West Coast mantra of bitches and money, Yaoh�influenced by the serious East Coast rhymes of KRS-1, Grandmaster Flash and Run DMC�offered lyrics repudiating hedonism. He�d found his politics in prison, his voice in hip-hop. "Hip-hop is a big influence on how people live," he says. "After I was released, I understood it to be vehicle for people to learn." He started rapping at various Chicano teach-ins and hip-hop shows, gaining fans with his unique combination of spoken word and lightning-quick raps, as well as his subject matter�denouncing genocide, embracing a love of history, and urging Chicanos to better themselves through education. But Yaoh didn�t receive much exposure outside of hip-hop circles and Chicano activists until joining the Taco Bell boycott campaign earlier this year. At mostly punk benefit shows, Yaoh rapped alongside the acts that would form the core of Orange County�s Chicano punk movement. And after encountering the same groups and seeing the success they were having in spreading the word about the boycott, Yaoh urged them to combine resources and ideologies. "I remember seeing a video of Public Enemy sometime after I got out of jail," he says. "I was surprised, seeing a bunch of kids marching like troops. The last time I saw kids marching was for the military in El Salvador. It freaked me out. But when I found out why they were marching�to empower themselves and stay out of trouble�I liked the idea. With so many Orange County groups in the same cause, we decided to do something like that." * * * "We" is Icnocuicatl Promotions, which Yaoh operates out of Suite 205 in that unremarkable Tustin office complex. This is the meeting place of the Orange County Revolutionary Collective, the Atlachinolli Front and the Centro Cultural de Anahuac, groups with the expressed goal of giving voice to Orange County Chicanos�especially the artists. Through Yaoh�s initiative, there�s talk of a studio, a record label, a better venue. The first compilation of the scene is already out. It needs no title: the tracks state exactly what Orange County Chicano punk is about. Yaoh contributed three tracks, including the gloomy "Life Is Not for You." "I once asked a boy what he wanted to do in life, and he said he wanted to go to jail so he could be with his brother," Yaoh says. "So I wrote that song in his memory. I don�t know what happened to him." Nowadays, Yaoh performs mostly at punk shows; afterward, kids praise his Chicano-positive message even if they�re not Chicano and rarely listen to hip-hop. He welcomes personal fame, but says he has his eyes on a bigger goal: the salvation of people who were once as ignorant as he was. "I want to find more people to fund," he says. "I see a lot of kids. If they just used their talents to learn about their history, there wouldn�t be as many problems in the Chicano community. I was worse off then, being ignorant, than now, armed with all this knowledge. Learning about my past is the only reason I�m alive." As Yaoh says this, he�s flipping through Rebel Radio: The Story of El Salvador�s Radio Venceremos, a book documenting the legendary clandestine station that played an influential role in the Salvadoran rebels� struggle for liberty. He looks out the one window of his unremarkable office space, noticing some punks walking down the street. He smiles at the connection there, history in his hands and kids in his sights. It�s the only war he ever wanted to be a part of. |
| Story courtesy of OC Weekly |
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