A lengthy ode to the life and times of Dennis Hopper is what The Waterboys offer here. Life, Death and Dennis Hopper approximates a fear of death, of not living life to its fullest extent. There is a thrill to this latest release, though, in both the collaborations with Steve Earle and Bruce Springsteen and in The Waterboys’ focus on paying respect to the legends of the past. A mixed result, but that is to be expected when the album features twenty-five tracks of varying quality. Earnestness oozes from every moment, and that much cannot be hit down. Life, Death and Dennis Hopper looks to live life through the same lens as the legendary actor. Paying tribute to the glory days is an inevitability, and through the slight narrative charms The Waterboys deploy here, from the chugging train to the new face on the street heard on Kansas to Hollywood ‘55, we are given a ropey, loose adaptation of Hopper’s life.
Idealistic interpretations of his early years to his death is what The Waterboys suggest they will chart. They do not, and oddly enough, the best parts of Life, Death and Dennis Hopper are the moments they break from the titular actor. There is a cringe-inducing undercurrent to the likes of Live in the Moment, Baby, which not even the Steve Neive-like piano can save, the punk-like howl from Michael Scott wasted here. His vocal charms survive, at least. But the difference between obsession and observation is never quite found, and though there is narrative scope here, it is cemented with very primitive and basic studio additions. A change in scenery or time is presented through sound effects, be it the howl of a singer or the sirens of a new memory. Scott fails to separate himself from the suggestion that he wants to be Hopper, rather than a historian of the legendary Hollywood presence.
Where The Waterboys may have something to say for themselves, a contemporary conversation with the Golden Age, they fail to show it off. Hopper is their sole aim, and the convoluted lyrical style, the higher-than-thou approach to songs like The Tourist, are tailor-made for the hardcore Waterboys fan. Despite their obsession, Life, Death and Dennis Hopper is nothing more than an adaptation of Hopper’s hits. Easy Rider, Andy Warhol, the crunch and crash of glass is of interest to those who want to listen to a series of adverts. A The Who Sells Out experience without the instrumental variety to solidify it. Some slick guitar work across the album is not enough to bring about a firmer core message, or a better aim. A song like Blues for Terry Southern highlights that wonderful spread, the finer instrumental detail and the ever-staggering vocal work Scott still offers. But the lyrical additions and the storyline route feel far from realised.
Lead single Hopper’s On Top (Genius) is the sort of character-led fawning Hopper likely felt when Hollywood hands were shaking his. But The Waterboys do not have the necessary, reflective tone. They sound like groupies chasing a ghost, asking for its opinion on their work. Solid production and a wild-eyed mix are what keeps Life, Death and Dennis Hopper working. What sinks it, though is this blur of fawning over Hopper and trying to keep a narrative tied to the truth. It comes across as an obsession, rather than an artistic achievement. Bizarre in all the wrong ways. Those rocking tones feel inevitable when a long-running band are trying to break into the modern-day feature, too. Springsteen’s collaboration here is fascinating, an instrumental mess where The Boss’ addition amounts to nothing. Tonal whiplash reigns over Life, Death and Dennis Hopper because The Waterboys want to make their shrine to the late actor a public place of worship, rather than keep it a private, embarrassing dedication.
Michelle (Always Stay) and the rest of the songs to follow, no matter how you read them, are a blur of creepy, parasocial relationships with an actor who died fifteen years ago and staggeringly strong instrumental work. A waste of the latter, and the commitment heard in parts. Tonal inconsistencies are the struggle for Life, Death and Dennis Hopper. Wailing guitar work on Freakout at the Mud Palace may sound great, but it, like the rest of The Waterboys’ instrumental flavour, happens as a way of hiding the shallow lyrical moments. Scott may sing well, but his writing, his storytelling throughout this album, verges on abysmal. There is a lack of confidence in the out-there momentum, though, as heard on the woodwind spectacle of Daria, backed by some lazy, unnecessary piano work.
What Life, Death and Dennis Hopper fails to do is capture the magic of the man The Waterboys are obsessed with. All they can do is observe the cemented history. Scott suggested he would comment on the world through the eyes of Hopper, using his creative arc as a conduit for exploring the great questions of the world. He does not do that. If he does, he has lost his answer when biting off more than he can chew. Fiona Apple has the finest moment of all, with album highlight Letter from an Unknown Girlfriend, relegating her to a nameless moment in the hopes of showcasing Hopper as a sex symbol. What The Waterboys get right is the staggering relationship we have with the greats. What they get wrong is adapting that parasocial relationship verbatim.
It is one thing to appreciate the uniqueness of the project, to consider The Waterboys as the right band for a project like this. It is another entirely to accept its mess, the loose adaptation of Hopper’s life giving way rather quickly to Scott’s obsession. If the instrumental additions cannot make the most of those moments, then all is lost. Life, Death and Dennis Hopper has enough variation, and yet it feels all the same. Even the burning, crackling sounds which open Rock Bottom cannot break from this sense of Scott putting his relationship with Hopper first, the latter man relegated further and further down the ranking. What is an exciting concept on paper turns into a sloppy articulation of blind love for an actor whose influence was a piece of the wider picture, a note of brilliance in a huge cultural scene. The Waterboys would have us think Hopper is the scene, and the era is the piece.
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