And now, here's a telling excerpt from "Yaz: A Personal Reminiscence," Chapter Two of my 80's memoir entitled "The Eighties: What the Fuck!?":

"When I think of Yaz, my mind jump-cuts to the year 1984. Then a pimply, greasy-haired 14-year old, I'm setting foot in my first dance club in suburban Seabrook, Texas. This was the popular all-ages neighborhood club, Night Traxx, where I experimented with my first pick up lines ("uhm, uhm..."), and made fledgling attempts at manipulating my untested limbs in an act some might call 'dancing.' It was where I also first heard Yaz's seductive, soulful sound, on 'Don't Go,' and 'Didn't I Bring Your Love Down.'

"My initial failures to fit in led to frequent visits to the local suburban Baybrook Mall, as I made an attempt to assimilate to my new hangout's generally-accepted John Hughes-influenced dress code. I went to a faux-upscale chop-shop called Visible Changes. There, amidst blinding neon and a sea of intimidating mirrors, my hair was sculpted and styled, much to my surprise, to the insanely catchy Yaz dance-pop beat blaring from the opulent hair-care establishment's PA system. It would be to this synth-laden, oddly funky soundtrack that my unruly hair was first taught to behave. I would go on to become a portrait of pure Tony Danza suavity.

"Soon, Yaz's delectable 1983 debut, Upstairs at Eric's became a guilty pleasure of mine, as the cassette tape somehow found a place in my collection amongst the Who's It's Hard, Prince's Purple Rain, Bowie's Let's Dance, and Pete Townshend's Empty Glass. Oddly enough, it was around this time my father began to hint, however subtly, that he suspected I was living out a shameful alternative lifestyle: "Damn, boy, you some kinda queef or somethin'?"

Alison Moyet and Vince Clarke, former keyboardist for Depeche Mode, in the space of little more than a single year (1981-82), ascended the British pop charts and held the admiration of both straight and pan-sexual club kids everywhere. The futuristic-sounding (at least for the early 80's) synth pulsing around the choruses, and catchy songwriting were key. And Moyet and Clarke's vocal interplay worked exceptionally well, both belting out an odd, androgynous kind of soul that had amazingly wide appeal.

Like the Communards, Bronski Beat, and Erasure after them, Yaz's music was disco-danceable enough for everyone to freak to-- whether you were gay, straight, jock, geek, retarded, or whatever. Yaz had enough in common sonically with the New Wave movement that, if you danced to a Yaz song in public, you wouldn't be lynched for being some freakish "gaywad," or disco-dancin' "gonad." Just as today, anything smacking of the 70's was totally reviled and spat upon in the 80's. The difference between grooving to a Yaz tune and, say, openly admitting a preference for Abba's "Dancing Queen" could mean the difference between leading a relatively normal life and having someone's big brother subject you to a cruel, ignominious death by wedgie.

All the relevant hits you need are included here: the gargantuan dance-club mega-smash "Don't Go," a typical 1980's 70's kiss-off, "Goodbye Seventies," the spare and slightly haunting "Winter Kills," and another ubiquitous 80's crowd-pleaser, "Situation"-- all taken from the aforementioned synth-pop masterwork Upstairs at Eric's. With that said, this re-packaged "best of" is a nice companion and learning tool for young 1980's buffs. It's a perfect overview for those who'd like to begin re-living an era in which they were too preoccupied with thumb-sucking and pants-crapping to appreciate the pop-culture that ruled the day.

-Michael Sandlin