A Rock N Roll Love Letter
My BFF Linda messaged me this morning to tell me Les McKeown, lead singer of the 70s sensations, The Bay City Rollers, had died. He was a mere 65 years old. I guarantee you, millions of hearts broke just a little bit this morning. The part of the heart that is reserved for the bands we loved when we were tweens and teens. We grow up, we move on, our musical tastes change. But we never, ever forget the intense love we had for certain artists and the level of sheer joy they brought us.
Linda and I were 11 when BCR were hitting their stride. ABBA were also a growing force and I loved them the most. Linda, and my sister Angela, loved BCR the most. Particularly Leslie. I eventually got on board and loved Leslie and the lads as much as they did.
It’s fun being a tween or teen in love. Imagining being kissed by the object of your affection. Imagining that they’re singing every song just to you. Imagining them surprising you by dropping by your house because they know you are their number one fan. The fantasy is a huge part of the charm.
Oh the hours Linda, Angela, and I spent making up dances and singing along to the BCR albums on repeat! For Christmas one year, I received a record player with a microphone. There are no words to adequately describe the thrill of that gift. It was karaoke heaven at least a decade before karaoke even became a thing. Now we were able to sing along with the boys with our warbling blaring out of the speakers.
One night, we decided to pretend we were at a BCR concert. We put on an album and screamed into the microphone — LLLEEESSSSLLLLLIIIEEEEEE. We did this for hours!! The poor old guy in the house next door thought we were being murdered lol!
Linda and I love to reminisce about those tween/teen times that were so joyful and always, always, the best memories are of us singing, dancing, and being in love with a super spunk.
I still have all my BCR albums and Linda and I have BCR on our iPods. We never stopped loving the music and the star-struck girls inside us never stopped loving Leslie. We loved him then because he was gorgeous but now I appreciate his actual talent. The man had a great voice. He could really sing. And there are some excellent BCR songs that I think have stood the test of time — ‘You’re A Woman’, and ‘The Way I Feel Tonight’ are gorgeous and for showing off your 70s inspired dance moves, you can’t go past ‘Money Honey’, ‘Rock N Roll Love Letter’ and ‘Saturday Night’.
It’s such a shame bands like BCR drop out of favour as quickly as they rise to dizzying heights. One day you’re hot. The next you’re not. How brutal must that be for the artists? Lauded one minute. Shit-canned the next and as time goes on, you become a bit of a joke and a footnote in musical history. It’s not fair that it happens. But bands like BCR appeal to a certain demographic and, inevitably, their fan base grows up and no longer lives in the fantasy-land of innocent yearning. Artists want to stay relevant, but trying to keep your post-pubescent audience interested, and even gain a new audience, is no easy task. Past pop idols like Leif Garrett and Shaun Cassidy know that. Appeal is intense, but finite.
My memory tells me it was Thursday and Friday, 8th and 9th August 1985 that BCR came to my town. (I remember the dates because the girl I worked with turned 21 on the 9th.) They’d gotten back together and were touring. They stayed at a budget-priced motel and played at a local pub for two nights. No stadiums and penthouse suites for them this time. Not like when they came to Australia in 1976 at their peak.
Linda and I dusted off the tartan, got together a group of fellow devotees, and attended the gig, both nights. The first night was THE. BEST. NIGHT. EVER. The crowd was small so we stood at the back and relived that night in my bedroom where we screamed Leslie’s name. Over and over. We were twelve years old all over again.
Of course we got Leslie’s attention. Impossible not to. The band and the crowd were, luckily, amused by us and after it was all over, our group snuck backstage hoping to meet Leslie. He came out with his lovely wife by his side and we immediately lost all sense and tittered like school girls. He came up to me, poked me in the shoulder and said, in his lovely Scottish brogue, “I saw you.”
He saw me. HE SAW ME!!!!!!!!!!!
I don’t remember what platitudes we gushed after that, but there were plenty. My over-stimulated, over-excited brain went into a tailspin. Realising the ambition of meeting an idol 9 years on from the height of their fame was pretty significant to us. It may have been the briefest of encounters, probably no more than a minute or two, but it is forever etched in our DNA.
Even today, when I think of that night, all the joy just rushes back in. It was the best fun we had ever had on a night out. I screamed so loud I couldn’t speak the next day but we went back again that night and stood at the front of the stage this time and danced and sang and swooned! We were much better behaved! And we got a special mention from Leslie for being back again. He said something along the lines of that we must have plenty of money to come both nights and then they launched into ‘Money Honey’. Every girl there turned and looked at us!
The unbreakable bond Linda and I share comes, in part, from the hours we spent immersed in a world of pop music and our love for singers and bands. Music connects us and transports us to a time and place where the memories are good. Hearing of Leslie’s death has made us so sad but it’s also brought the good memories flooding back. He played a significant part in our childhood and we are so glad we got to shout his name and, hopefully, for a moment, transport him back to a time when the world was his oyster. A bit of fun goes a long way. But a lot of love, whether it sits quietly in your teenage heart, or is shouted from the dance floor, lasts forever.
Thanks for the music Leslie and lads. Your songs made me, and still make me, genuinely happy.
So, let’s get the tartan out and remember the good times.
