A Plea for Love’s Fire in a Tartan Blaze – A Song of Urgent Desire, Burning Bright and Fast
In the crisp chill of October 1974, the Bay City Rollers unleashed Give It To Me Now, a fiery plea that climbed to No. 31 on the UK Singles Chart, a spirited cut from their debut album Rollin’, which itself reigned at No. 1 on the UK Albums Chart for weeks. Released as a single on Bell Records, it didn’t match the dizzying heights of later smashes like Bye Bye Baby (No. 1 UK, 1975) or Saturday Night (No. 1 US, 1976), but it crackled with the raw energy of a band on the cusp of Rollermania. Penned by producers Phil Coulter and Bill Martin, the duo behind their early hits, and recorded in London’s Morgan Studios, it was a tartan-clad spark—Les McKeown’s voice blazing over a stomping beat. For those of us who slipped that 45 onto the turntable, it was a rush of teenage fever—a song that demanded everything, right then, with no patience for tomorrow.
The making of Give It To Me Now is a glimpse into the Rollers’ rocket ride. By late ’74, the lineup—McKeown, Eric Faulkner, Stuart “Woody” Wood, Alan Longmuir, and Derek Longmuir—had solidified after years as The Saxons, a name ditched when a dart hit Bay City, Michigan, on a map. Fresh off Shang-a-Lang (No. 2 UK), they were in a whirlwind, cutting Rollin’ amid a storm of gigs and growing screams. Coulter and Martin, hitmakers who’d scored with Sandie Shaw, sculpted this one fast—a lean, lusty demand built for the dance floor, not the slow sway. Recorded in a haze of adrenaline, it’s got McKeown’s howl front and center, guitars chugging like a train leaving the station, the band still raw before the polish of later years. It’s a snapshot of ’74—a moment when they were hungry, not yet superstars, chasing the flame before the world caught fire with their name.
Give It To Me Now is a lover’s impatient shout—a heart pounding with want, ready to catch fire or crash trying. “Whatever you got, and you got a lot, it’s just what I desire,” McKeown belts, his voice a live wire, “come on and give, give, give it to me now.” It’s about the heat of the moment, the kind of need that doesn’t wait for poetry—just action, now, before the spark dies. For us who lived it, it’s a time capsule of platform shoes and sweaty palms, of discos pulsing under fairy lights, of a time when love was a dare you took at full speed—first crushes scribbled in diaries, dances where you hoped they’d look your way. The Rollers bottled that rush, their harmony a gang chant egging you on, a song that didn’t care about forever, just tonight.
Oh, those ’70s nights—tartan scarves waving like flags, Top of the Pops flickering on grainy screens, and Bay City Rollers blasting from every bedroom window. Give It To Me Now wasn’t their crown jewel, but it’s the one that hums for those of us who’d crowd round a jukebox, coins clinking, letting it shake the floorboards. It’s the roar of a Cortina down a Saturday street, the flicker of a lava lamp casting shadows, the thrill of a world where everything felt possible if you just asked loud enough. They’d soon rule with Give a Little Love, but this was the rough edge—before the mania, when they were still ours, not the world’s. It’s lingered in playlists, a nod from ’74, but the Rollers’ take, with its grit and its growl, is the one we clutch. Now, with wrinkles where dreams once danced, Give It To Me Now pulls us back—to the beat of youth, the fire we chased, the nights we’d never trade.