999,883: Nick Lowe — Rollers Show; 999,884: Nick Lowe — Bay City Rollers We Love You; 999,885: Nick Lowe — Let's Go to the Disco

So the story goes that Nick Lowe – soon to become a British new wave icon as both a solo artist and house producer at the indie label Stiff Records – was trapped in a stifling deal with United Artists in the late ‘70s. Lowe had been the chief songwriter for the rootsy pub-rock band Brinsley Schwarz, during which time he’d penned the future Elvis Costello standard “(What’s So Funny ‘Bout) Peace, Love & Understanding.” But he wanted to move into cheeky guitar pop, and although his label was not supportive, they refused to let him go. So Lowe hit upon the idea of deliberately writing songs that would get him kicked off. UA’s flagship artist at the time was the Bay City Rollers, who were in the midst of a brief reign as the biggest teen pop idols in the world. What better way to burn bridges with your label than openly mocking their biggest act?

So under the alias “The Tartan Horde” (a reference to the Rollers’ extremely Scottish wardrobe), Lowe cut a bubblegum-pop “tribute” written from the point of view of a ridiculously worshipful fan. “Bay City Rollers We Love You” features a sugary, oft-repeated chorus name-checking all the band members, while the singer hopes the band will still “be around about July” and spends a whole verse being stared at for dressing like the Rollers. Surely this devastating tongue-in-cheek sarcasm would prove the final straw! Unfortunately, Lowe’s plan backfired on two important counts. First, he was too good a pop songwriter, and made the song too catchy. Second, the irony behind his wryly understated British humor did not translate well across cultures and languages. As a consequence, when United Artists released the song in Japan, just ahead of the Rollers’ tour there, it became an enormous hit with fans eager to snap up anything associated with the band. Instead of giving Lowe the boot, UA asked him to record an entire Tartan Horde album of Bay City Rollers tributes.

Lowe gave it a shot with “Rollers Show,” as infectious a piece of ear candy as you’re likely to hear. Lowe’s skills as a budding pop craftsman are smeared all over the track, from the seemingly effortless hooks to the rich supply of countermelodies shifting between backing vocalists and different instruments. The nifty arrangement helps disguise the fact that structurally, this song is almost as chorus-heavy as its predecessor, because we keep hearing new little details. Lyrically, the tone is much the same, and Lowe continues to make sure he name-checks every band member, addressing the recent instability of the Rollers’ bassist position (“Ian [Mitchell] jacked it in, but we got Pat McGlynn/And as long as he’s a Roller then we’ll love him!”). “Rollers Show” is the musically superior of the two, and was good enough to get tacked onto the American version of Lowe’s solo debut. Both songs appeared on the odds ‘n’ sods compilation The Wilderness Years, now sadly out of print (though some of those songs have resurfaced on the deluxe reissue of Jesus of Cool).

The Rollers experience taught Lowe a valuable lesson: if you want to piss people off when you make fun of something, don’t ape it so accurately that fans of the real thing will miss the joke. In a happy epilogue, Lowe’s next release, the equally silly “Let’s Go to the Disco” (credited to the Disco Brothers), succeeded in getting him sacked. The secret? With its Bo Diddley beat and ‘50s-era lyrical references (the Bop was a dance craze from 1957, and Lucy Brown was a character name-dropped in several songs including “Mack the Knife”), it didn’t sound a goddamn thing like disco.