He thinks overly fertile songwriters are full of crap, anyway. "Being a prolific songwriter doesn't interest me," he says. "What's hilarious is when I read about well-known national guys who go to the studio with 40 or 50 songs. What the fuck is that? Not even Lennon and McCartney could churn out 40 or 50 songs over the course of a year. You've gotta think the majority of that is fluff, bullshit."
According to Yoria, the trouble is that fluff is, if not exactly lauded by the media and fans, then certainly overpraised nonetheless. "Mediocrity is championed, glorified," he says. "I don't see vicious reviews anymore. The media worldwide is too kind. Everything is two stars out of five, and a lot of that stuff really sucks."
Yoria believes his competitiveness stems from his athletic background. A native of Chicago and the son of Colombian parents, Yoria played soccer at the University of Houston, which is also where he first got into music. He sees himself as being perceived by indie rockers as a "jock" and a "Neanderthal."
And he really doesn't give a damn. In fact, he sees his image as an opportunity. "I've not pledged allegiance to any scene," he says, which has worked out to his benefit where booking gigs is concerned. Yoria plays everywhere from Brasil to the Sidecar Pub, the Engine Room to Ovations. It's a little unusual in Houston, where so many bands belong to, say, either the Fitzgerald's or Rudyard's scene. "It's easy to do in this town," he says of his scattershot gigs. "There are many venues in this town. It's just a matter of making yourself available. There are different parts of town, different types of venues. Anyone bitching about no gigs has got a hang-up of one type or another."
Some local studio engineers think Yoria may have a hang-up or two himself. When Yoria comes to your studio, you're gonna earn your money. Yoria admits he drove Marco Saenz crazy when Saenz engineered his latest EP, Can You Still Look Adorable. "I give Marco disclaimers before I go record," Yoria chuckles. "I'm like, 'Hey, Marco, this is gonna be really tough. I'm gonna get on your fuckin' nerves. You're gonna hate me, you're gonna talk about my ancestors and whatever, man, but we're gonna do it and it's gonna sound good.' Some people are never gonna agree with that type of behavior. Usually I can read those people, and they've gotta stay away from me."
As serious as he is about it when he has the time, so far music has been only Yoria's hobby. That may change soon. Later this month, Yoria and band will be showcasing in L.A. "If nothing materializes with a decent label and a decent offer after that, I want to know what it feels like to do music full-time," he says. "I don't write that often, to be honest. I can easily go three months without even touching a guitar if I'm not rehearsing with the band, so I don't know what it feels like to be on a deadline and to have to come up with a certain number of tunes. There's been a couple of times when I've done it, and it worked out well. But I'd like to know what it feels like to do this for a living, where this is all you're worried about."
By a "decent offer," he means a label that understands what he does. "Until I see that, I can't sign with, say, any major out there that says, 'Well, we've got a single so we're gonna put you out there. Tell you what, can you wear these torn jeans, man?' In that sense I'm not bitter that I'm not on a major label. My stuff is poppy enough to be on there. I've never offended anybody with my music. It's catchy. It's meant to be catchy -- it's a calculated thing."
He can't understand why anybody would not try to be catchy. "There's some talented people in this town even among indie rockers," he says. "I don't want to be a hypocrite and not give them a chance. I'm willing to listen and see if they know what they're doing, and some of them really do. It's a shame when some of them get caught up in that scene and end up making music for their circle of friends. If you're just gonna make music for your friends, fine, but why did you press up a thousand CDs in that case?
"I decided early on that I liked what I do and I wanted as many people as possible to hear it," he says. "Does that make me a sellout? No! I like what I do, and I want as many people as possible to hear it."