Hello friends.
Let’s travel back, just for a moment, to a time when the glamour was fading.
When weird was allowed, if only briefly.
When emotion was currency, not something to be buried under beats or branding.
This was the 90’s: A strange, sacred moment in pop culture where even the mainstream started to bleed.
We’re going back, not just to remember, but to recover something that never should have been buried.
At first we find ourselves in Toowoomba in the year 1993. A cover band called Red Edge is performing in front of a tiny, local crowd.
Two of its five members will go on to sell over 23 million albums worldwide and still somehow remain one of the most underrated musical legends of the decade.
Let us fast forward a bit now.
It’s 1997.
An important year for a little girl named Sarah.
A year heavy with firsts; first brushes with grief, first glimpse that feeling music in your soul wasn’t something everyone did.
That girl, surviving in the quiet ways children are often forced to, was about to find a band. One that would carry more meaning than she could understand at the time.
A voice that would live in her bones long after the radio moved on.
She didn’t know what synth-pop was.
She didn’t know what the man behind the voice had survived.
She just knew that something in the lyrics felt like home...like truth being whispered to her spirit.
The voice in question? It belonged to Darren Hayes. But he wasn’t alone and Savage Garden didn’t bloom out of nowhere. Before they were added to soundtracks of heartbreak and confusing music critics with how good they were, they were just two guys in a cover band in Queensland.
One soft-spoken theater nerd with a voice like velvet heartbreak and one reserved producer who hated the spotlight but loved building soundscapes. Together, they created something magical.
So let’s rewind again now, to understand how something so delicate managed to take root in the middle of the mainstream.
Savage Garden began like so many quiet revolutions do...in a place no one was looking.
Darren Hayes and Daniel Jones met through a cover band in Australia in 1993. Daniel was looking for a singer and Darren answered the call. Somewhere between the rehearsals and the small-town gigs, something rare started to form. By June of 1994 a seed had been planted. A literary-inspired name was chosen, Savage Garden, taken from Anne Rice’s The Vampire Chronicles.
They would release their debut single in 1996, but that song wouldn’t reach North America until early 1997. They went global almost overnight after their self-titled debut was released. “Truly Madly Deeply,” “To the Moon and Back,” and “I Want You” were everywhere. They became a go-to artist for weddings, breakups, late night car rides, and lonely teens who didn’t yet know why certain lyrics made them cry.
Sadly, behind the scenes the story was already splintering. Daniel hated the fame and the spotlight it brought. Darren was being reshaped by the industry, being forced into a cookie cutter boy band image he didn’t fit. The music stayed beautiful, but the magic was quietly unraveling.
By the end of 2001, it was over. Just two albums, but somehow, it was enough to leave a lasting imprint.
An imprint that wouldn’t be fully understood until those crying teens and quiet children, like me, grew up and realized what they’d really been hearing:
Two emotional architects.
Building something sacred under commercial pressure.
And somehow...still making it beautiful.
But this isn’t just a story about a band.
It’s about what they became to me.
Savage Garden didn’t just make music. They made safe spaces...for grief, for fury, for softness I didn’t yet know how to show. Their songs didn’t fix things, but they wrapped me up in understanding. And when you are a child trying to survive with feelings too big for your body, that meant everything.
There are songs I could write entire essays about: "A Thousand Words", "Break Me Shake Me", "You Can Still Be Free"...but maybe I don’t have to. Maybe the best thing I can do is let them sit here, in a playlist, for anyone who needs them the way I did.
If you listen, you’ll know.
And if you REALLY listen...you’ll feel it in your bones too.
If your fanbase happens to be mostly young, feminine, emotional? Well, then you’re not “serious.” You’re not real. You’re glitter. You’re fluff. You’re disposable.
But they were wrong.
Looking back, especially when you compare the original music videos to the sanitized North American edits, you start to see what was being buried. You see a band that was queer coded from the beginning. A band that held space for softness, for strangeness, for people like me, before it was trendy.
Savage Garden was important. Let’s stop pretending they weren’t.
The story didn’t end in 2001 though.
That ache, that glittering emotional core...it still lives on in other artists.
Some grew from the same roots. Others echo the vulnerability in ways you might not expect.
So if Savage Garden ever meant something to you...if Darren Hayes’ voice ever felt like a lifeline...then consider this a curated thread through time.
These are artists that carry a similar frequency. Emotional architects in their own right.
Darren Hayes (solo)
The most obvious pick, but stay with me. The same voice that once sang your heartbreak now sings his freedom. If you have ever felt like you had to shrink to survive...you are going to love watching him finally take up space.
Buscabulla
Dreamy Latin synth-pop that feels like a tropical heartbreak lullaby. Their music touches on colonial trauma, systemic inequity, diaspora longing. They also created PRIMA to support local arts after the devastation that Hurricanes Maria and Irma caused Puerto Rico.
Taemin
Member of the iconic Korean group SHINee, his solo work lies at the crossroads of gender fluidity, choreographic intimacy, and synth-soaked emotion. His visuals aren’t generic K-pop; they’re cinematic, often dark, theatrical and soulful.
Griff
Vulnerable but polished synth-pop. Griff combines a glittering pop sheen with lyrics that ache beneath the surface. Her music is emotionally intelligent and unafraid to be tender, much like Savage Garden at their core.
Hurts
Another synth-pop duo...only this time British. They write about devotion, desperation, and the kind of love that ruins your weekends. Hurts is what happens when Savage Garden survives the 2000s and grows up in grayscale instead of glitter. They are elegant sorrow in synth form.
What about you? Did you grow up feeling seen by Savage Garden? Do any of these other artists speak to you similarly?
If they do, don’t ignore it. That ache? That shimmer in your chest? That is your heart remember its language before your brain decodes the message. Music like this doesn’t just age, it lingers. It hides in the corners of your memory until something, or someone, brings it roaring back to life.
If they don’t though…do me a favor and share your picks!
And this?
This is just the beginning
There’s another story coming. One that also starts with misunderstanding, eyeliner, synths, and the sin of feeling too much.
So stay close. We’re not done traveling.
From my weird little heart to yours….
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