"Extraordinary", "Magnificent", "Superb", "Awesome", "Innovative", "Original", "Exciting", "Mature", "Precise", "Perfect", "Cheesy Snaps". These are all, I think you'll agree, words. And what kind of magic could be worked if they were to be used in a description of RUTH's extraordinary awesome new recordings, known (at least as far as I'm concerned) as Birdworld?

Take for example these few phrases:
"Birdworld is extraordinarily shit".
"RUTH have become excitingly far removed from their audience".
"This recording is so magnificently innovative that virtually no one can enjoy it".
"RUTH's Birdworld is simply not superb awesome original, precise perfect cheesy snaps".

You see? Beautiful, isn't it?

Had you been a-wandering around in the vicinity of Wembley/ Harlesden in The City of London's Northerly part of the City of London (where, of course, when I say "The City of London", I don't actually mean the actual City of London, more that which is known to all as "Greater London", or simply "London". Some amongst you might pertinently wonder why I didn't just say "North London" in the first place and avoid all of this infuriating nonsense. And you'd have a point).

Had you been a-wandering around in the vicinity of Wembley/ Harlesden in North London between the 6th and 17th of September 1993, you might have come across St. Mark's Recording Services (except you probably wouldn't have because it's not exactly obvious). But let's pretend you did come across it, and were able to talk your way through the strenuously locked door, and then forced your way through the dual soundproofed doors into the studio, endured the confused stare of Matt at the kit, or Ben's amp, or indeed Matt, Ben or Steve as they crouched round the Nueieeiuemens U87* (depending on what day you did all this), and then barefacedly stormed through another of those doors (with the the primitive locking system*) into the Control Room, you would have found your RUTH fan's heart truly stirred by the sight of your heroes expensively creating a whirling maelstrom of musical pleasure purely to please you, and to prove how great they thought they were. At the desk, you'd find Kevin ("the Krafty Kiwi") and his assistant Howard (not unlike Howie, from he-hunk Lee Majors' hit series of a long time ago "The Fall Guy") skilfully interpreting the band's frequently oblique mode of expression into information stored amongst the many tracks of a two-inch magnetic tape *, ready to replay and mix into the musical uplifting experience I am about to try and sell you.

Birdworld: The Band Speak

We wanted the recordings to reflect the kind of development we have undergone over the last year, because the Newcastle recordings were one of the first things we did, and we were still learning about our band and what it did.

We initially booked a week to record ten songs, which was the same as last year, but although we made good progress it soon became clear that we weren't going to be able to record it all and mix it in the time, mainly because there was a lot more going on in each song; more parts, more singing, more guitars etc than last year. So we booked another two days after a frantic scratching together of the money) at the end of the following week to mix it in, which was still quite a tall order. We all agreed that it would have been a shame to rush the mixes into the end of the week after we had gone to so much effort to get the recordings as good as possible, so sod the expense. As it happened, we finished the last harmony on the last song ten minutes after we had run out of time on the Friday night, so it was just as well.

Mixing was the most intense part of it, trying to get the songs to work properly, getting the sounds right, and making sure that they still had the life they do live despite the minuscule detail we had gone into over them. It's easy to overblow a song so that it sounds awesome, but loses it's soul simply because you can. I don't think we did. I hope we didn't.

In the end, I think the songs sound really accomplished. It certainly sounds more like a band that's ready to be huge than last year. I like the songs a lot, too. It's generally very convincing - we sound a bit like we've realised our songs' potential, and it still has a really positive vibe about it. It's the kind of thing you'd put on first thing in the morning to convince yourself to get up. Yes. Good.

I am in absolutely no doubt whatsoever, I am convinced that it is about 300x better than RUTHSongs. I'd buy it.

Steve: (over the phone from sunny Eastbourne) "In all seriousness, I have to say that yet again I didn't get to use my guitar in the studio, and I'm really not happy with the guitar sounds on the first few songs [Flowers, Good Luck, Take It Easy - Ed.] I mean it's fine live but it always breaks when we get into the studio, and I have to use yours."
"I realise that was terrible for you. Anything positive?"
"Well, yes. I think we all got on well together in the studio, and it fused together to create a Magical Musical Mystery Tour."
Oh.
"I really like "Oh Dear" [A song you may never hear - Ed.]"
"Everyone I've played it to has said it sounds like Duran Duran."
"Well it does sound like Duran Duran. It's strange because in a way it sounds really dated, but also really modern. And it's funny because it really skips along, but at the same time it sort of drags. And the guitar is awash with reverb."
"Well, the whole thing is pretty awash," (Don't we sound convincing?)
"Yeah."
"So, what is your favourite memory of the week, and your favourite track?"
"Well I don't really have a specific memory: I think it would be realising that once again we'd chosen a good studio with good people we could all get on well with and fuse together to create .... [He never finished this sentence - Ed.] My favourite track was ...what were they again? Yeah, I like Chicken and Good Luck and Pillow and Flowers I suppose, apart from the guitar sound,"
"Well, who listens to guitar sounds?"
"Exactly, no one does, really." Except you all will now.
Do you agree with Steve? Write and let us know (be sure to buy a copy of the tape first, mind).

Matt: (over the phone from sunny Bournemouth. I have to say, I think I caught him at a bad time) "Well then, Matt, how would you describe the week's recording?"
"It was very.. er... fulfilling."
"Yes... right... uh-huh. Right."
Long pause.
"How do you feel the band has progressed over the year?"
"The band has come on along way., especially our performance. On the whole it went pretty well."
"Any particular highlights?"
"Er .... (long pause). .. Generally it was all pretty good."
"What's the drumming highlight, then?"
"Well it's all pretty good. It's all in time."
"Anything you want to draw listener's attention to?"
"Yeah ... (long pause). .. listen to the bongos on Told You So, and the good groove on Flowers."
"And the tambourine,"
"Yes. The tambourine."
"So what's your best memory?"
(bitter) "My best memory was Having a Cup of Tea."
"Oh. .. Right .. .Ok. And what's your favourite track?"
"Oh. .. that's bloody difficult, actually. They're all pretty good. I think for fun and enjoyment it's Chicken. I like He Said, Pillow, Flowers and Oh Dear [A song you may never hear - Ed.]"
"That one sounds like Duran Duran."
"Yes it does."
"Well. Bye then. Hope the editing goes well. Shame about the gig."
"Yes. Bye."

Birdworld: A commentary from Matt and Ben

Flowers (words and music: Matt Hales)

Matt:Well I wrote this and its about my Dad who is sometimes very annoying by being obviously pissed off but not accepting any help. A nasty condition which I fear may be hereditary.

Me: "Gartness: The ability to say "No, there's absolutely nothing the matter, what could possibly be the matter? And anyway I don't want to discuss it," without moving your lips." From "The Meaning of Liff" by Douglas Adam and John Lloyd

Good Luck (words and music: Matt and Ben)

Me: We wrote most of Good Luck before we were even Gravel Monsters. When we'd got all of the early Gravel Monsters songs together, we had a look back over these spare songs we had and thought we'd give Good Luck a go. It was different then, mind; the chorus just went "Dream on little man, I know you know I know, Dream on little man", which was all right, I suppose. We played it at a few gigs with an enormous Stadium Rock Ending, and gradually got less fond of it.

A bit later (fascinating this, isn't it?) we had another look at it and decided the only thing that was wrong with it was it's slight chorus, so we took it apart and came up with it as you will now hear it. It changed the character of the whole song and made it much more whole, so we lost the Stadium Rock Ending and did Clever Vocally Bit instead.

I have to admit that Jellyfish's new album had just come out and was having a suspicious influence on our creative decisions (descending basslines a go-go). I like it a lot, though, specially the changes in character it goes through. And the "aaaaaaah". Yes. Goodbye. Now Matt: Back from the dead, better than ever. I'm proud of this version because it was a real 'whole band' effort. Good work men.

Take it easy (words and music: Matt Hales)

Me: It hardly seems possible to me that a) I've started a sentence with "it hardly seems possible" and b) I've never talked about Take it easy before, since we've played at every gig and this version is the third we've recorded and about the 200th mix of it. But! At last! It's recorded to our satisfaction gaining all the pomp and ceremony a true rock anthem deserves. Many thanks to John Lennon for my bit of the bridge.

The boy Hales: This song was inspired by a lengthy improvisation session with vibraphone, cello and flute, and also a lengthy conversation with my special pal Ian about UFO's. A dangerous cocktail, I'm sure you'll agree. Please don't try it at home.

Something good (words: Ben, music: Matt and Ben)

Me: I was sitting on a bus one day, in a bus station, behind another bus. And on the back of this bus was a poster saying "Ring the Samaritans". (It didn't actually say "Ring the Samaritans" verbatim as it were, but something along those lines). This made me think about The Samaritans, and the line "The Samaritans were engaged..." popped into my head like a real songwriter. Now, I'm always on the lookout for lines, and this was just the kind of knowing irony that I'm particularly fond of, so I thought "AH! A first line!".

I can't explain what prompted me to write the rest of the first verse apart from it was December and the mood I was going for was a kind of separateness, so it seemed to fit that this character who's singing should feel outside of Christmas, the traditional family values, love, joy and presents thing.

The chorus appeared as if by magic when me and Matt were putting the music together, and it was obviously going to be good because it's quite a memorable sentiment (part of the art, it seems, of writing a successful pop song is encapsulating quite a memorable attitude or idea in this tiny bit of tune that gets repeated over and over again - the most successful songs seem to combine a memorable tune and a lyric that sums up the whole song. That way you don't feel like you've missed the point. But go ahead and miss the point anyway if you wish).

I was then faced with the problem of having to go somewhere in the rest of the song after a very stupid first verse, and I didn't want to annoy everybody by talking some more bollocks (and besides, I couldn't think of another gag to start verse two with). I was thinking about the mood of the chorus in terms of how I felt, and what it could mean. At that time I was pretty overwrought with the notion that being young at this point in history was a terrible thing to have to deal with; my early life was paranoid about sudden nuclear war, and just when it looked like I could relax I heard that the ice caps were going to melt and we'd all be drowned by next Thursday. So I felt righteously indignant, and since no one had ever heard of Jamiroquai yet, I thought I'd take it upon myself to be the "spokesman for my generation", and make it a teen eco-anthem. I'm deliberately taking the piss out of myself here so that I did it first, but thinking of it just as a personal sentiment, these things do matter to me, and every now and then I do feel a bit desperate that I am unwittingly and unwillingly part of someone else's mistake. It also occurs to me that this isn't necessarily a very helpful attitude to have people hum in the streets, and maybe I should write a song that goes "Hey, we might all live!!" for a change. But it's not my job to save the world. AHA! Touche!

Pillow (words: Ben, music: Matt and Ben)

Me: Pillow is one of the most intimate songs I've written, so at least I can take refuge from my "saviour of the lost generation" pose and say honestly that I don't wish this to have any meaning to anyone else more than enjoying it like they enjoy watching a soppy episode of "The Kids from Fame". It's a story and a mood and an atmosphere which has nothing whatsoever to do with real life, except that it tries to explain what it's like to 'discover' another human being in a more profound way than simply knowing them. When I showed it to Matt he said "it's your first Christmas Love Story," which I suppose it is.

If you feel there is a disparity between the verse and chorus, that's because they were pretty much entirely separate, but I'm not going to tell you that because it'll disturb you when you try and listen to it altogether. Nice guitars, though.

Matt: Nice shape this one has got, good dynamics, nice ending. She's a Classy Lady.

He said she said (words: Ben, music: Matt and Ben)

Me: I LIKE He said she said. It's an attempt to recreate what it's like to be clever, male, introverted and madly in love and make it funky. It's a School Song - you're fourteen, you've invented a personality and a universe for yourself. You have your principles and your morals all worked out, and how you feel you relate to the world on all issues of importance, but still the most vital thing on your mind is Talking To Girls.

This is for everyone who's heart has died regularly at any contact with an arbitrary, unattainable loved one, who has compensated for it by being even more clever and introverted, and who is consumed with aching jealousy at the sight of a stupid opponent effortlessly plying her with clumsy and witless repartee simply because he has more pubic hair than you. Or am I the only one????

Him: No.

Chicken (words: Ben, music: Matt and Ben)

Me: Chicken is the very newest song we had before going into the studio. It was barely two weeks old, in fact, but we knew it would be a stormer and made it a must for the session. And lo! We weren't wrong.

It's the product of an unhealthy immersion into Abba's superb album "Voulez-Vous", released in Krazee '79 when they could do what the hell they wanted cos they were Abba and they were HUGE. Oddly, what the hell they wanted to do was exactly the same as everyone else at the time, so it was sheer Disco. Well, Disco means you have to groove your body from side to side and go 1:clap 2:clap 3:clap 4:clap clap [try it- it's grrreat Ed.] and we'd not written a stupid, cute, over-in-two-and-a-half-minutes, feel good groover of a song for a while, so we tried to be indescriminating and came up with Chicken.

This was another first-liner. I was sitting in my room tossing words about in my head idly, as I often do, staring out into the bleak June sunshine, when I found myself idly exploring this expression "free-range", and idly applied it to people, and whammo-kabang, there was "I was raised free-range so I never knew where home was" and the rest flowed on naturally. We needed something cheap and cheesy as the chorus hook line, and you can't really fail with "Ooo I'm yours if you take me home," and for a bit of variety I put in something vaguely relevant to chickens which rhymed ("carve me to the bone") and there it was. To be honest it was the kind of botched together thing where you apply the meaning later and see what you come up with. I mean Stephen even thought it was a protest song about chicken farming. As if I care about bloody chickens.

Mind you, to strengthen my case in public for the necessity of calling it "Chicken" instead of the (allegedly) more DJ-friendly "Ooo I'm Yours If YouTake Me Home If You Take Me Home Carve Me To The Bone I'm Yours If You Take Me Home" it has to be called "Chicken" because this actually gives it more dimensions than an embarrassingly straightforward "find me a lover" radio thing I swore aged ten I'd never write. So there.

Told you so (words and music: Matt, Ben and Matt Simmonds)

Me: It's back! Sillier, groovier and with more guitar parts than ever before, the all-new Told You So just goes to show what can happen to a band in a year. Well I think it's fabulous. It presents the song way way past it's apparent potential, and I think if this can be achieved simply by changing the groove, adding bongos and doing comedy guitars, I think the public has a right to know.

I'm going to bed now, but what's the first thing I shall put on to tempt me out of bed tomorrow afternoon? That's right: "Circles in the Sand" by Belinda Carlisle.

Matthew Hales, his brother: It was beyond its apparent potential in its original form, so now it has transcended itself twice, making it Told U So to the power of 3! Simply incredible -Told you So, Bionic Song!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!