Hello there again, ALAN folk, it's me again - Ian Jameson "Closer to the music". I've been really very busy in the last month or so. The reason? My favourite band RUTH has been once again upon The Road and Doing Gigs in order Appear Lively to her fans. It was a Wednesday night when I found myself in London's New Cross, traversing over that legendary zebra crossing and going up to the ignominious looking Amersham Arms where I could already see a blackboard outside it which had written upon it in red chalk "RUTH" and the names of some other bands. How like them I thought, suppressing an inward chuckle of anticipation and recognition, to choose red which I think looks really good.

There was inside a pleasant throng of punters enduring one of the bands that wasn't RUTH on stage and though I looked about the little club I couldn't see them anywhere. I took a seat in view of the stage but also the entrance door so that I could be the first to notice them when they arrived.

When they duly did arrive I wish I could say there fell a spontaneous hush but there wasn't one except in my heart. They entered without ceremony, except to explain to the doorman that they were playing and so they didn't have a ticket, and then strode into the small club, smiling and laughing, exchanging a few words with the live sound engineer and waving to their innumerable friends and supporters. They didn't wave to me, but I think they were just being professional.

Finally after what seemed like hours but was probably only one hour the other band finished and the stage was reset and then after a few minutes which to me felt like a really long time the four men jumped lithely up and took their places.

Without any nonsense, Ben let rip off with a plaintive guitar wail that soon gave way into noise anarchy as Matt VB came in with a slow but accelerating beat and then in came Stephen and Matt with a massive roar of RUTH noise which, as suddenly it began, ceased and there even more suddenly was the opening riff to the classic "Chicken".

With a whoop of delight I leapt up to my feet laughing and clapping enthusiastically. I wish I could say the same for everybody else in the small club, although many of them there did seem to be actually listening.

What followed was one of those three-quarters of an hour which whilst you will never forget it you can't quite remember any of the details. There is nothing for me but a sense of utmost joy as RUTH roared through their opening numbers, gamely following the sinuous twists and turns of the Hales brothers' power pop like excellent racing drivers, then abruptly switched down the gears to yearn their way through an excellent cover of Smokey Robinson's "You Really Got A Hold On Me" a bit like the Beatles did and then Matt's soulful melancholy blues one "Waiting For This" which is quite new but I thought it was already a classic already.

As the music swept me on and on I remember crying out "You're too good for this place!"; at least I think it was me - all we the audience felt we were communing, worshipping at the altar of pop as tunes new and old, beloved and bewitching flowed from the speakers, all the while the boys' sheer conviction, their love for their music and for each other, spoke a volume and a half about their love for us.

They moved and grooved; they grieved and mooed. They were at once human and divine; their sweat glistened but their hearts shone and their singing found the perfect blend.

When they left the stage after a blistering rendition of "Can't Stop Myself" which, in my view, took the recorded version which was so recently mastered to vinyl and made available to the public and pissed all over it until it was wet through, I saw them gather together, laugh and clasp themselves together. It had been a good gig, and even they knew it.

I wanted to say something - to let them know I had seen them, that this night would not be forgotten by perpetuity and, heck, that I love them. So I went up to them full of ready praise and taut questions the answers to which I really wanted to know. But there were a lot of people around and they all seemed to be so busy talking to their real friends. I did brush against Stephen's arm and he said "Whoops - oh, sorry", and I said "I think that was really a blooming great showcase of both your songs and your talent as a band" but when I looked up he was wandering away. He hadn't heard.

Matt, Ben, Stephen and Matt were busy now, sheathing their leads and piling up their amps, occasionally stopping to laugh and joke in their inscrutable way, reliving a particular fill or the moment when Steve pretended his bass was a gun and shot Ben with it, or a dangerous high note or a special solo.

I lingered till the very death when the lads of RUTH said goodbye to the promoter and the engineer and the bar staff and a few hangers on, and I saw them get into their Volvo and make their triumphant way into the night.

Then I went to where they had stood, bent to the ground and offered up a silent prayer to send them safely on their way. Then I too slid off into the night.