I never liked the Bay City Rollers.  When I was an elementary schooler they were equivalent to One Direction — the slick, poppy band that all the girls screamed about.  They were haircuts and matching outfits, not a band.

My opinion hasn’t improved over the years, thanks to my complete lack of Bay City Rollers nostalgia, so you’re right to question why I have 1979’s Elevator in my stacks.  This was one of the first albums I purchased solely for the cruddy album cover.  I remember stumbling across this one in the dollar bin sometime in the mid-eighties and finding the lads’ attempt to reinvent themselves as serious musicians too funny to pass up: the name change, the giant pill just in case the name was too subtle for us to get their heavy message.

Nobody fell for it.  They’d lost their old fans because that’s what happens with boy bands, and no self-respecting music geek was going to fall for a bullshit name change.  It’s kind of a shame, because Elevator really isn’t a bad stab at a power pop album.  Think Cheap Trick or The Knack: that’s the sweet spot that this album targeted, and it came pretty damn close.

Want to give it a shot?  You should still be able to pick up a copy for a buck.  Happy hunting.