Few fans know that one of the Bay City Rollers’ most unexpectedly charming moments happened not onstage, but inside a cramped metal elevator just before a major performance in 1978. What began as a routine ride up to their dressing room turned into an unforgettable mishap — and a spontaneous a cappella performance that perfectly captured the band’s spirit.
The incident took place at a venue known for its labyrinth of backstage hallways and aging lifts. The band had just finished soundcheck and were heading up to prepare for the evening show. They stepped into the narrow elevator together, joking about the setlist and the crowd already gathering outside. But halfway to their floor, the lift jolted violently and came to a full, abrupt stop.
At first, the Rollers thought it was just a temporary glitch. But when the lights flickered, the fan rattled to a halt, and the emergency button produced no immediate response, the realization set in: they were stuck.
In the silence that followed, tension began creeping in. It was hot, the air felt still, and the narrow space made it impossible to move more than a few inches. One member tried to pry the doors open, another tapped rhythmically on the wall to signal for help, but nothing worked.
Finally, it was Les McKeown who broke the thickening anxiety.
“Well,” he said, “if we’re going to be trapped, we might as well sing.”
That single line shifted everything.
Les began humming the opening of “Shang-A-Lang,” his voice steady despite the heat. Within seconds, the others joined in. Harmonies bounced off the metal walls, turning the tiny space into a warm, echoing chamber. The tension dissolved as the group slipped into an easy rhythm, playful and instinctive. They moved from one chorus to the next — “I Only Wanna Be With You,” “Bye Bye Baby” — laughing whenever someone’s elbow accidentally jabbed another.
According to a technician who later recounted the story, the sound of their voices was actually how the staff realized the elevator had malfunctioned. “We kept hearing singing from somewhere,” he said. “But it sounded… close. Too close. That’s when we figured out it was coming from inside the lift.”
It took nearly twenty minutes for maintenance to open the doors. When they finally did, the Rollers stepped out flushed, sweaty, and laughing — but calmer than anyone expected. Instead of frustration or panic, they carried the moment like an inside joke.
One crew member remembered Les stepping out first and announcing:
“If the fans only knew our warm-up act today…”
The band made it to the stage just in time, and their performance that night was unusually electric, fueled — some say — by the strange burst of unity created inside that stuck elevator.
For fans who later heard the story, it became a favorite behind-the-scenes gem. Not because it was dramatic, but because it was so unmistakably “Rollers”: chaotic, funny, and held together by music even in the most unexpected places.
In the end, the mishap didn’t delay their show — but it did give them a memory they never forgot…
and a one-of-a-kind a cappella rehearsal they never intended to perform.