The Waterboys “Life, Death Dennis Hopper”

Scott’s conceptual eulogy to Dennis Hopper, played out in ‘freak mode’, man.

It might be considered a sign of a worthy, even great, artist who after 46 years of releasing records can still produce an LP that confounds, jars and entertains their audience in equal measure. Mike Scott, along with the current incarnation of the Waterboys has done just that with ‘Life, Death and Dennis Hopper’ and it sound like nothing else in his/their cannon. Yet it couldn’t be by anyone else. It bears Scott’s Waterboys’ indelible and immediately recognisable stamp – blazing, intense and literate (f)Roots tinged rock music. This time the difference though is the setting – that of a full on, out and proud concept album.

‘Life, Death and Dennis Hopper’ is an ode to Dennis Hopper in song form and as such it does what it says on the sleeve. It’s more though. As fascinating as it is flipped out and as charismatic as it is slightly bonkers. In this way it captures the essence of the object of Scott’s admiration, the apple of his eye. For it is clear from the start and throughout that Scott’s esteem for Hopper is the starting point and the driving force of the record. A chance encounter with an exhibition of Hopper’s photography and a quote from the man himself “I don’t know how I made it” (referring as Scott interprets it to “his lost years of burnout and addiction.”) initially inspired Scott’s songwriting. Pretty soon he realised he was in fact putting down an entire piece about the life of hopper and the rest of it fell into place “bang bang bang, like when I was a teenager”. This spontaneity is admirable but occasionally the sixth former’s perspective is a little too evident in some of the writing, which may have benefited from a more considered approach.

‘Life, Death and Dennis Hopper’ is inspired by Hopper, is about Hopper and about the times in which he operated. In case it’s not clear thus far it is (whisper it quietly) a concept LP. As Scott tells it: “It’s a concept record that tells several stories at the same time. There’s a central story (about Dennis Hopper), but it’s also telling the story of our times, the story of the counterculture.” The record follows the arc of Hopper’s life – opening with him urgently planning to leave his home town in ‘Kansas‘ and moves mechanically and chronologically through a number of episodes in his life – different films, affairs and marriages, friendships, career milestones and even golf with Willie Nelson. It ends with a sombre instrumental for his passing and a euphoric string-laden elegy ‘Aftermath’ that recalls the song from 2020 LP ‘Good Luck, Seeker’ where Hopper first made it into the Waterboys’ canon.

The narrative arc covers all the ‘different’ Hoppers – hippy dipstick, career-minded actor, cultural tourist, self-destructive addict, artistic maven, psycho frank… yes, even golfer. The tendency here is to eulogise our protagonist and the songs often seem to place him as central to pretty much all of the ‘counter-cultural’ artistic endeavours of the 60s and 70s – pop art, music – Monterey, movie-making (of course), photography… anything as long as it is representative of Hopper’s nonconformist nature. This can get wearing and takes us to a point where we start to question (or even reject) Scott’s eulogising of Hopper and his place in the ‘scene’. The message that Hopper is great because of not despite his outsider status is clear but way overdone…

… this questioning of the premise of ‘Life, Death and Dennis Hopper’ extends to its capacity to support observations about what Scott calls “the whole strange adventure of being a human soul on planet earth.” He is attempting to interpret the world with Hopper as the lens through which he views it, using his creative arc as a channel for exploring the great questions of the world. Scott asserts that Hopper’s story is the counterculture though the man himself is quoted as saying that his story is a lie, which suggests that something might be amiss here. What’s amiss is a lack of a critical eye in dealing with Hopper’s position as a valuable cultural figure, as representative of the nascent 60s counterculture movement and as a vital and charismatic individual in his own right.

The overriding sense we get throughout ‘Life, Death and Dennis Hopper’ is of celebration rather than examination. The one time when Scott does explores the darker elements of Hopper’s being is with the track ‘Letter from an Unknown Girlfriend’. Here he offers a missive from a nameless lover hinting at what might be Hopper’s controlling violence. The song is delivered by Fiona Apple in a monumentally powerful performance of elegance and grace. It stands out from all the turmoil and bluster around it as a wonderfully still and moving ballad with nothing more than Apple’s sonorous voice and resonant piano. At barely two minutes it is undoubtedly the record’s highlight and unequivocal confirmation that less really is more.

As we’ve established, sonically ‘Life, Death and Dennis Hopper’ doesn’t really resemble any other Waterboys record. Its stylistic promiscuity is something to behold – loungey instrumental interludes for each of Hopper’s wives, an electro Eurovision intro to ‘Freakout at Mud Palace’, some crackling hip hop beats on ‘Rock Bottom’, gorgeous Beach Boys like harmonies adorning ‘The Tourist’ or the out and out country balladeering of the Steve Earle sung opener ‘Kansas’. In addition a number of interesting cameos adorn the LP. Apple and Earle are already noted but there is a Springsteen spoken word contribution to ‘Ten Years Gone’, Taylor Goldmsith of Dawes adds bonny vocals to ‘I Don’t Know How I Made it’ and elsewhere Kathy Valentine (go-gos) and Patti Palladin among others, make appearances.

These musical embellishments are present all through the record. Much like Scott’s treatment of Hopper’s life though they tend to come as episodic, added on as sonic colouring-in rather than being fundamental to the overall sound. As a result, despite their accent ‘Life, Death and Dennis Hopper’ manages to feel insistently similar throughout. The overall sound is essentially that of a muddy rock band – the ‘blazing and intense’ rock music mentioned earlier with a harder, grungier than usual edge, epitomised by the two minute cacophony that is ‘Frank (Let’s Fuck’). Amongst all this fervour it is the quieter moments that stand out, the already lauded ‘Letter from an Unknown Girlfriend’, the gentle and lovely ‘Don’t Know how I Made it’ or ‘Blues for Terry Southern’ with its delicate instrumental detail and a fine Scott vocal.  This stuff might have been counter-cultural in the times they are singing about, now however it is anything but. Something that Scott himself has acknowledged, arguing that music from the birth of jazz right through to the 1970s was an “an incredible confluence of energies… an explosion of creativity” whilst now is “just a different time”

On repeated listens ‘Life, Death and Dennis Hopper’ begins to come into focus, the songs begin to stand up for themselves and sound less like they are an afterthought laid at the feet of the godlike figure of the ‘concept’. They do remain somewhat strained in their adoration of a fascinating but hardly central Hollywood outsider figure. Ultimately we learn little new about Hopper from this record, or about the counter-cultural miasma that warrants the claims made for it. If you were there at the time it might have the resonances that Scott is searching for. These recollections and representations might have some real meaning. But if you weren’t and you are only familiar with this stuff through the artefacts and the filtered/refracted critical rememberings of others this is just another of those memories. It’s not a great insightful cultural (counter or otherwise) artefact but it is a pretty decent rock n roll record that will engage you for 57 minutes. It will have you perplexed, brought to laughter (never tears) left incredulous and even infuriated but always entertained. That might be (just) enough. This time.