Forgotten voices from the end of the universe, the last Bay City Rollers album was cut from an almost unrecognizable musical cloth, and so laden down with power pop jewelry that, if they'd only changed their name to Cheap Trick or something, they could have been huge all over again.

Hit-era vocalist Les McKeown was long gone by the time the band cut this disc; Voxx was new boy Duncan Faure's third album and it found the Rollers firmly entrenched in their post-fame existence with a clutch more tightly wrought choruses and fist-pumping melodies -- much the same as the material that made their name in the first half of the decade, but acting their age now, and sounding terrific.

Stuck for a theme, they follow their hearts, and turn out some surprisingly dramatic concoctions; stuck for a rhyme, they write a different verse -- in the past they'd have simply sung "shimmy shammy shong." Present in both its LP form and as a bonus single edit, "Life on the Radio" is particularly immense.

But Ricochet as a whole is an electrifying stomper, all sharp edges and edgy shards.

How sad that they never got around to following it up.

This is a band that you deserve to hear more of.