SEX AND DRUGS AND ROCK 'N' ROLL? TO FIND ANY DIRT ON SAVAGE GARDEN YOU HAVE TO DIG DEEP-AS KIM LANGLEY DISCOVERS 

San Francisco smells like eucalyptus. Good old Aussie gum trees. It's the sweet scent of home for two Queensland boys, now collectively named Savage Garden. Darren Hayes, 27, and Daniel Jones, 26, are in the northern Californian city to record their much anticipated second album, Affirmation 

And they hope it will prove just that. An affirmation of their talent, and the success that made their eponymous debut album one of the biggest-selling records in recent pop history, and former pre-school teacher ( Hays) and printer's employee ( Jones ) millionares.

What they're keen to change is the lingering preception of them as a pair of pasteurised pretty boys, yet another boy band, singing a little, dancing a little, then disappearing without a trace. That's why they've relegated such fashion faux pas as the blue dreadlocks and " squishy" black vinyl pants Hayes wore at the 1996 ARIAs to the bin, and stocked up on hip designer labels such as Helmut Lang. It's why they've hired Stephane Sedanoui, the groovy French photographer and former squire of Kylie Minogue, to create an image less " cute", more " interesting". And why I'm hee, in a cab on a cloudless day, heading over the Golden Bridge. 

My destination is Wallyworld, the theme-park title given by award-winning producer Walter Afanasieff to his tranquil compound amid the brown hills and bustling malls of suburban San Rafael. Mega-stars such as Mariah Carey, Celine Dion and Barbre Streisand have all worked at the high-security haven, which features a state-of-the-art studio, luxurious Mission-style guesthouse, swimming pool, tennis courts and boy toys- including two jeeps, two BMW motorcycles, and a Harley Davidson. You might even spot the odd deer. Savage Garden has been working in this verdant eyrie for the past three months.

Today, Jones, the band's programmer and arranger, is in LA with Afanasieff recording guitar tracks. I find singer Hayes lurking in a dark corner of the high-tech studio. The band's usually loquacious frontman seems unusuyally shy, sensetive even. " I feel like I'm showing home videos when I play my music," he admits staring down the front of his white Gucci T-shirt, past relationships, life-and-death tragedies". Hayes reflects: " I think there's a tremendous responsability for entertainers. Music is a bit of morphine and I'm happy to provide that relief... I got a letter from someone the other day who said The Moon and Back was on the radio while they were bound and at gunpoint during a robbery... and that it helped them to calm down. That's the most bizarre connection someone can make to music, but I was really glad the song was there to help.

Since Hayes had, until recently, made his home in New York, and Jones in Brisbane, the new album was mostly written transglobally- via email, phone and computer disk. While they wanted to make another personal, emotional album, they also strived for something more edgy than their debut. Thusyou get the relentless intensity og Gunning Down Romance, alongside the trance-like mantra of the title track, the poppy jungle beat of the hit first single, The Animal Song, with the classic ballad that is their new single, I Knew I Loved You.

One of my favourate tacks is the raw, remarkably unplugged (for Savage Garden) ballad Two Beds and a Coffee Machine. "There are a lot of electronics on the record, yet that song was basically just piano and voice," says Hayes. "The notes are not quite perfect, my voice was tired at the time, but it just had so much more than the highly produced version. The first time we heard it, we were crying."

"Lurve" is still a majour theme on the album, but the lyrics reflect a more mature take on romance. "This is not a pretty album," says Hayes, whose marriage breakdown informs many of the lyrics on the record. "Theres a beautiful sadness, but its not hopelessness... The highs and lows make you relise your alive."

The next day, in the guesthouse's cosy living room, I recieve a private acoustic performance of The Lover After Me, perhaps the most poignant songs about split: "Theres no love on these strees," croons Hayese. "I have given mine away to a wrold that didnt want it anyway."

The "little oxygen tank where Walter works" has provided a much needed respite after the frenzy of the first album. "I was a millionaire living in Manhattan," recalls Hayes, "and I relised my body was screaming out for some kind of solitude . Im not an outdoor person, but I am really enjoying the sunlight. There is something increidibly healing about it... and I couldnt have been in a better place to record the album."

Hayes took to the healthy Californian lifestyle so well that he has moved into an apartment in Sausakito and shares a personal trainer with his hero, George Lucas, whose Skywalker ranch is just up the road from Wallyworld. "My biggest dream is to be in one of the Star wars films," Hayes enthuses. "I'd play a rock, a corpse." Are you reading, George?

For Jones, however, theres no beating Brisbane. "Is that bad? he asks after arriving with his childhood sweatheart, Michelle. The slight, spikey haired Jones still lives, with the equally blonde Michelle, in the neighbourhood where he grew up. His parents, who live nearby, run the bands fanclub. (Not a hard decision apparently- they used to be industrial cleaners.)

"Give him his band and his dogs and he's happy," remarks Michelle of her boyfriend, as he drifts in and out of a planning meeting with the bands manager. jones prefers to twidle knobs in the beloved studio than plan "the monkey show" as Hayes calls it. For, while the singer has soaked up the spotlight, Jones has found he dosnt like its glare. In fact, it causes himconsiderable angst.

"I almost feel myself saying, where is this complete happiness I am searching for?" reveals Jones, opening up now that the planning meeting is over and the conversation has swung from sex to existentialism. "I am not into this lifestyle at all. In fact, I am fighting it every day. The attentionmakes me feel uncomfortable... and it has taken away some of the illusion of the pop star. I mean, I am one and I dont feel terribly great about it. So, when I see an artist on stage, night after night, performaing and laughing, I think: 'are they really smiling?' When they go back to the hotal room, they are lonely as well." Fame has also made him distrust people motives for getting close to him and his family. "A lot of people tend to want a lot out of you."

He would prefer to be 'the silent partner' in the band, let Hayes be the star. But even that makes him uneasy. "Darren is really comfortable with it, but... I feel guilty, because I think if I hate it this much, then he must as well." Jones should rest assured, for when it comes to creating the groups sound, dealing with such practicalities as getting the band on the plane, and takeing care of the finances, he is the one to take responsibility.

"I am not allowed to sit nxt to the window at the accountants office because I look out," says Hayes.

"He ends up doing silly drawings of our accountant," adds Jones, "and then ends up doing a page worth of autographs."

Hayes likens his partner to a butterfly. "Push him too hard and you'l break him," he cautions when Jones abruptly, albeit politely, puts an end to a photo session the next day. "Oh, well. Its not as bad as Aerosmith," Vogues photographer Stephen Oxenbury comments wryly. "I had to go back four times."

Still, Jones distatse  for hype is the biggest issue the band faces right now; his behavious that day is the closest i get to a rock star tantie. Much will depend on how he handles the promotional circus around the release of Affirmation. Will he distance himself even more from the media? Will it prove too much for him? Whatever happens, it seems unlikely to be acrimonious. Desptie their differences, these guys have a strong, touching synergy stemming from the day when Jones first talent-scouted Hayes for a Brisbane covers band and they relised they were 'two dreamers who could dream together."

In fact, Hayes half jokingly worries that they will sound too nice in this article. Problem is, they are. And, no matter how many image-meisters they consult they will never have the bad-boy reputation of Michael Hutchance or the aura of U2's Bono, both whom they name as influences, along with a list of diverse performers from Prince to Peter Gabriel.

The fact is, the boys behind Savage Garden are two genuinly nice, polite, suburbinites who are firmly against drugs and guns (for a while, Hayes even contemplated taking the metaphorical Gunning Down Romance off the album, lest it give the wrong impression). Hayes helps out friends in need with a flash of gold plastic and actually prefers queuing to makeing the right phone calls. "When I went to see U2, it was raining... And I was down in the mosh pit," He says. "We were the biggest band in the country at the time, but I didnt care. I didnt want to sit in the VIP box and hang out with Helena Christensen."

They are also humble enough to acknowledge their fist album could have been "a complete fluke". Affirmation, due for release this month, is a true test of their staying power.

"The second record is where it all starts fro us," says Hayes. "It may not be as successful, but I dont think its a bad thing to have to compete your your own phenomenal success story. It could be a curse, but what am I going to say? Poor me, I sold 11 million albums on my first attempt."

On the last night I spend at Wallyworld, the band throws a barbeque for the studio staff. As we tuck into kebabs, pasta salads and fresh fruit pies, we watch an MTV special on the bad old days of the Red Hot Chilli Peppers. The Peppers make great music but I, for one, would prefer to spend three days in a Savage Garden. One look at some of the rock stars- wasted, track-marked, warring, barely intelligible- confirms that.