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by Helen Slayter It was February 1995. I had been reviewing demo tapes for the "Catford Gazette" for only six months (after a brief spell editing "Letters of Complaint", Humberside Council's internal news-sheet) when a call was put through to me from one Ben Hales from a band called RUTH. Now I had been aware of the group since I saw a review of their demo in "Making Music" in 1993 (I take a professional interest in all journalism connected with amateur musicians) and had kept half an eye on their progress since then; plotting the course of various bands is something of an occupational hazard for me. In fact that day Ben called me was the same day I had come across their name in the listings of an old "Melody Maker". "I've been a long-term fan of your work," he gushed "I'm editing a little thing called ALAN and I was hoping to persuade you to write for it." "Oh, and what does this 'Alan' deal with? What's it's readership? Does it do reviews?" "It's 'ALAN' actually. It's principally concerned with RUTH and . . . well nothing else. We review RUTH gigs and stuff. It has . . . some readers. Would you be interested in writing for it? I did particularly enjoy your review of 'Skipton''s tape - 'When are whey-faced adolescent boys going to realise that there are better things to do with their lives (and their hands) than write twenty-minute synth-operas'," he recited. "I enjoy the implicit sensuality with which you write. I want you to write for me. Write for me, Helen." Now I'm not immune to flattery. I'm flesh and blood after all. But there remained plenty to perturb me. "You're saying that this is a publication that deals exclusively with your band over which you exercise complete editorial control. A band that you are a member of? How can this be remotely objective? The very concept an affront to all serious journalism!" "Quite," he returned "but it's hardly serious journalism. Most of the stuff I just make up to amuse myself. But it's difficult to keep it interesting. I feel like we need a new slant; a new voice. "Write for me Helen," he urged in a silky voice "I need you." At length I agreed and submitted the piece "Possible RUTH Album in the pipeline" for ALAN 4. A furious Ben called me the next day. "What are you trying to do to me Helen?" "I don't know what you mean," I countered. "Your cynicism permeates every word of this piece. You are willing us to fail from the first letter. Our readers rely on us to give them the truth!" "My piece is the truth!" 
"No it isn't! For a start Alan Winstanley never worked with The Beatles, and secondly the album
isn't 'possible' it's definitely happening""How can you be so conceited? When has anything ever been certain in the music industry? You don't even know you've got the money to record this album. I refuse to say one thing and then immediately contradict it. Listen Ben, if you can't keep your heart out of the way of your business, I suggest you have it removed. I know it worked for me." "Damn your eyes, Helen" he whispered and slammed the phone down. He may also have meant "Damn your 'i's" since I am a journalist and he has a prodigious talent with words. You can imagine my surprise when a year and a half later my secretary informed me that one Ben Hales was on the line. "Well hello stranger," I said, laconically fingering my Tatler pen. "I saw you on 'Live and Kicking'. How are things?" "I need your help, Helen" he sounded tired, wretched. "Oh oho oho ho ho," I said. "I remember someone saying that to me before; but now he's gone, she doesn't need him." "You know, we did make that album, so up yours." I laughed indulgently, "You haven't changed" "I want you to come back and work on ALAN. I need your objectivity, your talent. Most of all I need you, dammit!" His voice cracked. "I want you to cover our next single for the paper." "The what?" "All right, the pages" he conceded. "What's the single? I noticed 'Valentine's Day' didn't do so well." "Yeah, whatever. We're re-releasing 'Fear of flying'. We've already serviced ILRs, we've got interest from Radio One and a possible O-Zone. I want you to write something about it. Don't do it for me, do it for ALAN." I could sense that this plea came from the heart; the heart I had once told him to remove. I relented. "But on one condition," I rejoined "I will not commit to print one word that on Monday purports to be fact that the Tuesday's decisions make fiction" "What?" he said. In good faith I began a piece on "Fear of flying" focussing on the feeling I elicited that many RUTH devotees consider it passé; an adequate single but not an inspired one. I was steeling myself to call for an interview with Brian Wade (the shadowy ubermeister who I suspect pulls the strings in RUTH's world), when I received an exasperating call from Ben. "Listen Helen," he began. I listened. Two days later I pulled up outside Westside Studios. In the chill of a November Saturday morning, RUTH were unloading their equipment from a rather sad looking van. "Hello Helen" said Matt Hales "Have you seen our new van? It's got seats in the back!" He seemed remarkably pleased at this state of affairs. I occasionally suspect that Matt might be a little simple. It's often the way with musical visionaries.  Matt Hales: a little simple? As ring-permed Tony Perretta, more normally known as RUTH's live sound man, but for this session sitting in the recording engineers chair started soundchecking the drums, I spoke with Ben, Matt and Stephen. "What's going on, boys?" I asked. In fits and starts, I managed to piece together the story. It seemed that the Fear of flying campaign had stalled after it failed to make the Radio One playlist. "Wasn't it a little optimistic to presume you were going to get it?" "They were all quite into it," said Matt "It's a numbers game," Steve put in "there are just so many singles to choose from. We were considered quite a few times." "So we thought that since we'd done less promotion this time around we'd be lucky to do any better than before, so it was cheaper and less embarrassing not to release it at all." Instead RUTH's audacious plan was to release a Christmas single. "It's not a Christmas single!" shouted Ben "It's a beautiful, wonderful song that only we could have written, and that might just be our little niche." I could sense the hand of Mr Wade in all this. "Look" said Matt "I wrote this song for my friends who are having a baby. I didn't think it was a RUTH song or anything. I stuck it on a tape of new songs which we played to Brian and he really went for it." Here they all were, then, recording the single in time to release in the middle of December. As the session progressed, I began to see the crazed logic behind the plan. It was indeed a fragile, beautiful song, almost hymnal in it's sombre, swirling melodies. It did make the undeniable statement that RUTH were not just an average indie guitar band. It was quite a lot like The Beach Boys, though. It was called "Everything Changed". A week later, the record was finished. They had once again produced it themselves but left the mix to Alan Winstanley. I was interested in writing a piece on the varied influences that brought themselves to bear on RUTH. But, come mid-December "Everything" had once again "Changed". "This is a farce!" I cried.  The boys didn't even have the decency to look cowed. We were sitting in a smelly upstairs room in the premier Leeds indie club, The Cockpit. There was a trestle table along one wall bursting with stale bread and crisps. There was a fridge in the corner filled with untouched cans of Holsten Export, slightly broken so as to whine an endless whine. The corrugated iron ceiling took the contours of the railway arch within which the club was built. A single dingy light hung from the centre, sent regularly swinging by the trains thundering overhead. It was 11.30pm. RUTH had arrived at 5pm. They were due on stage at a quarter to one. They all had colds. "It's Radio One, that's what it's all about," Steve was saying for the hundredth time. That was all any of them were saying; "It's Radio One". There is folklore in the world of pop groups which has to do with accruing sufficient exposure to have "a hit record". The lore states that your only true guarantee of success in the charts is if the national pop radio station plays your record on many occasions in the weeks surrounding it's release. For bands such as RUTH, the Radio One Playlist has become something of a Holy Grail; there is a species of human (known as "Pluggers") who's entire existence is dedicated to playing three-minute pop records to the small number of producers who make up the selection committee for each week's playlist. With one hundred and fifty records vying for eight new places on each playlist, it is a lucky record which even gets considered by the committee. This is as far as RUTH records have ever got. "Everything Changed" didn't even get that far. "They didn't get it," opined Matt Hales "which was always a risk" "But," Ben cut in "they were all going 'But I do LIKE RUTH'; it seemed as if they were a little over-run with slow, ballad-y records-" "So did we have any chirpy, rocky songs that would be good for a vibrant, fresh new year playlist?" concluded Matt. "Which meant basically 'I don't know'" "What?" I strangled "Was 'Everything Changed' just a waste of time? You want to re-release your first record? I thought you all hated it!" "We did for a bit, but we like it again now" said Matt VB, dabbing his nose and boiling the kettle. "Especially if Radio One want to play it," added Steve. I wasn't sure I cared for the way they all finished each other's sentences. It was as if they were all reading from the same Book of Received Pop Wisdom. "I have always been given the impression that you valued your artistic freedom!" "Helen, we're a POP BAND" shouted Ben "we only exist to make music people BUY. And they won't buy it if they don't know about it, however good it is. You've got nothing but artistic freedom if you aren't making any MONEY - the freedom to be unheard of and have to get jobs in Burger King." I looked round the room at their tense faces. The struggle between their dreams of success and the facts of their position was written clearly upon each one. What right did RUTH have to expect anything from anybody? Perhaps their pretty faces and amusing antics had got them onto the television. Perhaps their music had been appreciated by more than a handful of people. But there are many bands who could boast the same. Bands come and go, and it is very few who actually achieve what each band believes they should. At that moment I could see that it was futile trying to write a piece of "News" about RUTH. Their story would merely be one of endless direction changes and sudden rethinks; charging up one blind alley after another in pursuit of the elusive "big break". Better then, to withdraw from RUTH, to allow her to decline with dignity. There are more certain horses to back than her. Frankly, she stands more chance of winning the Lottery. |