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Savage Garden Savage Garden Capitol Records Savage Garden? I guess that's an apt name, in the sense that these are some truly fearsome vegetables. Wyld Stalyons was already taken, and if the lyrics to "Santa Monica" are any indication, Savage Garden was probably the best name this popular duo from down under could come up with. Regardless, "I Want You" and "Truly, Madly, Deeply" have shot up to top of the singles charts on the strength of generic melodies and beats that sound like the bastard offspring of INXS and Mike and the Mechanics. The album just topped 40 weeks on Billboard's Top 200, a testament to the success of the Velveeta-pop formula Savage Garden employs so well. I'd say that Savage Garden is this year's Escape Club, but the Garden boys have had TWO hit singles. That passes for longevity these days. But when I hear songs like "Tears of Pearls" and "Carry on Dancing" one of two things happen - I start making Tape Heads references about the Hit Men that no one gets ("Not THE Bonnie Raitt?"), or I am transported back to the lamest high school dance in human history. Just imagine - your dad just dropped you off at the gym for the first big fall dance. You fidget because your short-sleeve, striped-turquoise dress shirt is one or two sizes too small, and you almost trip over your untied shoelaces. As you enter the gym, the light from the disco ball hits that slightly anemic-looking girl you've had a crush on since seventh grade. In the background, Savage Gardern's "Truly, Madly, Deeply" is playing, and you think you're in love till you get pantsed by a jock while all the faces laugh at you. This is the circle of hell in which John Hughes may spend eternity, and Savage Garden is the house band. The lyrics run from quizzical to just plain bad. Singer Darren Hayes pines away for his long-lost love in "Santa Monica," "But on the telephone line, I am anyone, I am anything I want to be / I could be a super model or Norman Mailer and you wouldn't know the difference." Later on, that reference changes to "a caped crusader or space invader," and the woeful singer warns against in-line skaters who knock people down. Compelling stuff, huh? And what the hell is a chic-a-cherry-cola anyway? In their defense, there are one or two nice melodies and harmonies floating through this album. "Santa Monica" might have actually have been listenable with different lyrics. But I guess that's the secret of the band's appeal - fluff and gloss. Try not to pay too much attention, and you might like Savage Garden. For my own part, I'll take a little more meat and a little less roughage. -Nick |
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