Although the Waterboys‘ past efforts, This Is the Sea and Fisherman’s Blues, were underpinned by emotional undercurrents, Life, Death & Dennis Hopper goes one step further, concocting a conceptual album detailing the highs, lows, and smirks enjoyed by the eponymous actor. One of the tracks, “Memories of Monterey”, is more of a sound collage than pop, as bandleader Mike Scott utilizes a collection of vocal effects to paint a picture of the end of the 1960s. Just like Pete Townshend did on Quadrophenia, Scott uses the sleeve notes to set the story for listeners lost between the bellowing riffs and soaring, opaque vocals.
Traditionally, the Waterboys were controlled and methodical in a way the Who were anarchic and spontaneous, but the former group seem to be channelling the latter with “Transcendental Peruvian Blues”; the drumming, fervently performed by Ralph Salmins, recalls Keith Moon’s galloping display of tom-toms and cymbals. The jauntier “Michelle (Always Stay)” evokes the pop production spearheaded by the Mamas & the Papas, an instrumental backdrop dotted with breezy harmonies and piano strokes, while “Freakout at the Mud Palace” comes with tonal sonics; gritty, Western guitars are cemented against busy, disco-coated bass parts.
This project began with the Waterboys album Good Luck, Seeker, a record that incorporated “Dennis Hopper”, Scott’s ode to the actor. During his research, Scott learned more about this creative individual, uncovering a scrambled, vulnerable person as perplexed as anyone about what his standing meant in life. Listening to it in that context, the soulful “Hopper’s on Top (Genius)” sounds less like the hagiography from a songwriter about an icon, and more the etchings of an installation that grows more meaningful with every passing year. “Are you ready for the greatest generation in two thousand years?” Scott sings, evidently impressed by their collective efforts.
There are cameos heard on the record, the most impressive being Bruce Springsteen‘s crispy, mellifluous narration (“Ten Years Gone”). However, Life, Dennis & Death Hopper truly comes to life when Scott permits himself to handle the vocals. “Frank (Let’s Fuck)” finds the singer sunny, wryly observant mood: a trembling voice bouncing off an array of jagged hooks.
Scott’s baritone stylings on “Golf, They Say” are inescapably reminiscent of Rick Danko’s chillingly fragile delivery of the Robbie Robertson classic “It Makes No Difference”. Majestically, “Golf, They Say” closes with a reverb coda, perhaps the one instance where Scott plugs in and wails; his fingers following the melody like an impish, intuitive jazz player searching for the perfect note.
Unlike the comparatively more straightforward premise of Quadrophenia (a commemoration of a movement to which the Who were intrinsically part), Life, Dennis & Death Hopper shoots for a more labyrinthine mode of composition, and occasionally Scott is guilty of losing focus from the central narrative for yet another disembodied yelp and instrumental passage. By “Venice, California (Victoria)/The Passing of Hopper”, Scott and company shift from euphoria to a more muddled exhibition of mellotrons and effects, in a last-ditch effort to commemorate the titular hero.
It’s a bum note, but the work regains confidence with the rousing coda, “Aftermath”, a blues-pop ballad that shows the band in full stadium mode. Scott’s impressionistic vocal is embellished by the addition of an angelic choir, closing the product with a gusto pleasantly reminiscent of the Rolling Stones during their Let It Bleed heyday.
True, the record boasts 24 songs, but mercifully, none push the boundaries of their listeners; there are only a handful of songs that surpass the three-minute mark. Scott’s ambition has resulted in a musical vehicle that’s blindingly good at times, and Life, Dennis & Death Hopper is a singular addition to the Waterboys’ impressive canon.Â