All Saints were the cool rivals of The Spice Girls and topped the charts for the first time with their debut single Never Ever in 1997.

Back in the mid-’90s I always preferred All Saints to The Spice Girls; more authentic, less gimmicky, less manufactured, and much more about the music than the slogans and the look. And my favourite All Saint was Melanie Blatt.

I spent an evening with her one night in 2000 at a secret invitation-only showcase by ’70s legends Santana to mark their hugely successful comeback album Supernatural.

It took place in the tiny Tabernacle club and I arrived early, realising I had not seen or heard a thing of Carlos Santana in about 25 years, and wondering whether I would even recognise him after so long.

So when I saw a bloke in his 50s at the bar with a sallow complexion, slightly greying curly black hair and a telltale droopy moustache, I was sure I’d hit the jackpot and moved in for an exclusive interview.

Opening with a gentle “How are you?” kind of remark, I quickly realised this was not Carlos. He didn’t have an American (or Mexican) accent, for a start. And when I suggested this must be a “special night” for him he agreed. But not in the way I expected.

He told me he’d seen Santana’s first London gig at the Albert Hall back in 1970 and how they were his favourite group of all time. “So I was really lucky my daughter could get me a ticket.” He beamed at the young woman standing next to him in a vest and a pair of low-slung cargo pants.

“So are you a fan too?” I asked, just as it dawned on me that this was Mel from All Saints. My powers of deduction swiftly concluded that the man next to her was Mr Blatt. She rolled her eyes and said: “I think I must have heard them every day of my life growing up. Dad was always playing the records.” I took that as a No.

A a little later my friend Matthew and I were watching the show from the balcony, where we recreated an authentic ’70s Santana vibe by surreptitiously sharing a couple of joints, just in front of the Blatts standing downwind.

At one point in the show – sensational, by the way – Mel leaned forward and tapped me on the arm and whispered: “That smells lovely.” I offered it to her but she waved me away with a sad face, saying: “I can’t – my dad doesn’t know I smoke.”

Which is one of the reasons why Mel was always my favourite All Saint. The other is because I saw them perform in Monte Carlo once, where the secrets of their sound were revealed to me. And the main secret was that Mel was the only one who was talented enough to sing fully live.

There had often been rumours that their live performances were enhanced by pre-recorded tapes and one of the sound guys informed me that their live mix involved a backing track: the two Appleton girls were miming, Shaznay’s role was limited to the talky raps, and only Ms Blatt was considered capable of holding a tune enough to perform with her microphone on full blast.

And now, in something of a career change, I discover from her Instagram – “Hi, it’s me, Mel, from the ’90s” – that at the age of 50 she has started her own gourmet burger company and is flipping her “next-level burgers” in one of my local Stokey pubs, The Londesborough, every Tuesday night.

I’ll be there. And I might see if she remembers our night with Santana.