The past three years have witnessed an explosion of bubblegum dance pop unheard
since the late '80s, when teen phenoms like New Kids on the Block and Tiffany
ruled the airwaves. These days, however, even 'N Sync don't sell the way they
used to, and a year-long teen-pop sales slump has left the genre's biggest
stars looking for kicks outside the music industry: Britney Spears on the big
screen, various Backstreet Boys in rehab and in the back seat of a police car.
Which makes it the perfect time to reflect upon the teen stars of yesteryear,
starting with Tiffany herself. And what better place to do so than on the
current cover of Playboy, where you'll find the one-time chart-topper in
all her redheaded glory, smiling next to the salacious headline "Teen Queen
Tiffany: All Grown Up, Totally Nude." Pay attention, Britney -- and be careful
with those royalty checks if you know what's good for you.
Tiffany's got to be jealous of Kylie Minogue, a teen-pop contemporary of hers
who's currently staging a far more successful comeback of her own. Kylie's not
averse to baring flesh either, but she's found a slightly more dignified place
to do so -- in the artwork accompanying her new Fever (Capitol), which
entered the album charts at #3 about the same time Tiffany's show-all hit
newsstands. When Kylie, Tiffany, and Debbie Gibson were all over pop radio in
'88, few suspected any of them would make it into the '90s, let alone through
them. And despite the effervescent post-Madonna charm of the hit "I Should Be
So Lucky," Kylie was probably the least likely of the three to do so. She
didn't write or produce like Debbie, and though her cover of "The Loco-Motion"
adhered to the same spruced-up oldies formula that Tiffany used, it didn't
dominate the airwaves the same way.
Sure enough, all three were gone from the US charts by the dawn of the new
decade. But Kylie had an ace up her sleeve: international celebrity based on
her role in the Australian daytime soap opera Neighbours, which was
filmed in her home town of Melbourne. As the "u" in its title suggests, the
show never made it to the States despite its immense popularity in most of
Europe and the UK in particular. Once Kylie was able to translate her on-screen
popularity into album sales, she quit TV and started bombarding the European
pop charts with more frothy teen pop. As the '90s progressed, she cultivated a
sexier image, dated Michael Hutchence, and made an ill-advised foray into rock.
But she reverted to her dance-pop ways in time for the 2000 Summer Olympics in
Sydney, where she performed the hit "On a Night like This" at the closing
ceremonies.
All of which makes her something like the European Madonna -- and it paved the
way for Fever, her eighth album and first US release since the Tiffany
days. The disc has already spawned the huge hit "Can't Get You Out of My Head,"
an irresistible Eurodance confection that barely made it into the clubs before
crossing over to pop radio. Kylie's vocals are simultaneously sassy and
unassuming, flirting with the tune's anonymous trance groove in a way that
leaves an indelible mark without pounding the chorus into the ground. The
song's "la la la" hook also represents another Eurodance comeback: it comes
from songwriter Cathy Dennis, a veteran singer whose early-'90s hit "Touch Me
(All Night Long)" was bouncy enough that, as with "I Should Be So Lucky," I
could sing it to you right now even though I haven't heard it in 10 years.
Dennis has also recently worked with S Club 7, a British teen-pop group
following in Kylie's footsteps by starring in their own kids' TV show. That the
two acts share a musical braintrust is all you need to know about Fever,
as well as what makes it an awesome bubblegum album along the lines of
Britney's Britney (Jive) and Madonna's Music (Maverick): the
beats are sleek enough for club crowds of all ages, but the shiny happy lyrics
and melodies owe more to teen pop than anything else. Kylie also collaborates
with former Spice Girls writer/producer Richard Stannard, whose "Love at First
Sight" cops the disco groove from Madonna's "Holiday" as expertly as the Spices
used to. On "Burning Up," Kylie conjures not the youthful Madonna who once
recorded a song of the same name but the "Don't Tell Me" folk-meets-disco
troubadour of today. Either way, it's enough to make you wonder why Britain
needs a carpetbagging material girl on its shores when it's had one of its own
for years.
Natalie Imbruglia
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Another thing that elevates Fever to dance-pop greatness is the
conspicuous absence of Celine Dion ballads, a teen-pop and disco requisite that
even Madonna resorts to once in awhile. Kylie is interested in three things --
dancing, sex, and crushes, in that order -- and she doesn't even think about
slowing down once she gets into the groove. On the mall-funk opener, "More More
More," she just can't get enough; five tracks later she's howling "Give it to
me like I want it" over the disc's friskiest groove. The mid-tempo title track
isn't exactly danceable, but it's the most polished pop gem on the album, with
a lush, harmony-laden chorus straight out of the '80s. Hardly anyone would have
expected an actual '80s pop star to come back from the dead and make good on
the current synth-pop revival -- but in Kylie's case, the music easily lives up
to the story.
Kylie was succeeded on Neighbours by fellow Australian Natalie
Imbruglia, another cute tomboy with a lust for pop music. But that's where the
similarities end -- Imbruglia didn't begin her singing career until after she
left the show, and that enabled her to pursue a musical path that was more
serious and less tied to her celebrity. Her debut single, the worldwide smash
"Torn," cracked the US charts in '98, around the same time the now-defunct
Aussie male duo Savage Garden also started making waves here. Like Kylie,
neither act lives in Australia anymore: Kylie and Imbruglia have spent most of
their post-Neighbours time in the UK, and former Savage Garden singer
Darren Hayes moved to Northern California when his group broke up two years
ago. Also like Kylie, Imbruglia and Hayes are both back after long layoffs with
new albums aimed directly at the Top 40: Imbruglia with White Lilies Island
(RCA) and Hayes with the solo debut Spin (Columbia).
"Torn" was the kind of fluke hit that happens once in a lifetime, and that may
explain the four-year gap between Imbruglia's first disc, Left of the
Middle (RCA), and her new one. The singer didn't write "Torn," but her
cathartic performance on the song was the equal of anything adult-pop radio has
seen since. So it's easy to understand why she chose to follow the same
template now that she's taking a larger role in the songwriting process:
White Lilies Island is a stylish, moody affair with a wealth of pretty
melodies and a couple of subtle nods to rock.
Darren Hayes
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The first single, "Wrong Impression," takes on romantic hardship with a
melancholy slide-guitar hook and a gentle rhythm track -- it's the kind of
thoughtful emotional dissection Imbruglia specializes in, only she's taking a
deep breath more often this time around. The opening "That Day" is the sharpest
left turn, a free-associative lament built on a scruffy rock-guitar riff and an
engagingly loose vocal performance. She returns to familiar territory on "Do
You Love?" a bombastic power ballad that evokes classic Radiohead more than any
of her singer/songwriter contemporaries. It's the high-drama highlight on an
album that occasionally threatens to drown in its own sorrow but ultimately
survives on the strength of Imbruglia's lyrical sincerity and good taste.
There were two sides to Darren Hayes in Savage Garden: silly synth-pop
philosopher and treacly white-soul balladeer. He leans heavily toward the
latter on Spin, a syrupy collaboration with Mariah Carey producer Walter
Afanasieff that treads the same loverman/bad-boy turf as recent efforts by
Michael Jackson and 'N Sync. The singer's primary weapon is his otherworldly
falsetto, and he works it for all the eroticism he can get on the disc's steamy
lead single, "Insatiable." He sticks to the bedroom routine for most of the
album, pausing only for the occasional fit of vulnerability ("Like It or Not")
or MJ-style spite ("Heart Attack").
Only twice does he approach the techno-pop playfulness of the Savage Garden
hits "I Want You" and "Affirmation." The title track lays heavy-handed
political lyrics over a decadent house beat, something that doesn't make sense
until you realize the chorus is advocating escapism through bad dance music.
"Crush (1980 ME)" is less complicated and more effective: sandwiched between
hipper fare, its New Order-inspired synth-pulse would probably bring the house
down at an electroclash party, and its lyrics rhyme "Got a little crush" with
"Ooh, I just can't get enough of that stuff/It's such a rush." Kylie would
certainly agree with Hayes there -- and if she were giving her countryman
career advice, she'd probably tell him to ditch the Celine Dion ballads and
meet her in the dance-pop '80s.
Issue Date: March 22 - 28, 2002
