“Life, Death and Dennis Hopper” is a record as cinematic and unpredictable as its subject. A sprawling tribute that shifts tone like a director flipping genres, it’s as brave as it is bizarre — and all the more compelling for it. Only The Waterboys could make something this strange feel so vital.
“Kansas” kicks things off in sombre style, with Steve Earle sounding more mournful than ever. The hardest troubadour around does what only he can, and sets the emotional tone early. But just when you think you’ve settled in, “Hollywood 55” drags you to a juke joint and stuns with sensational lyrics. Rarely has the phrase “I ain’t had a wash” landed with such resonance.
Then comes a total shift: “Live In The Moment, Baby” channels glam rock in all its strut and swagger. This is an album full of moods and modes — some hit harder than others. The swing of “Andy (A Guy Like You),” a tale of Warhol, feels like a rare misstep, while “The Tourist” works far better. Its old-school harmonies and spoken word blend give it an unexpected prog rock flavour that oddly suits the narrative.
“Blues For Terry Southern” sounds like it was written for a film, and would belong on any offbeat, wide-screen soundtrack. That cinematic feel deepens with “Riding Down To Mardi Gras,” a number that could be mistaken for a ‘60s Elvis outtake in the best way possible.
As the story builds, “Hopper’s On Top (Genius)” drives things forward, while “Transcendental Peruvian Blues” and “Michelle (Always Stay)” plunge into full-blown psychedelia. Then, without warning, it’s disco time with “Freakout At The Mud Palace.” Wild turns like these define the album.
The guest list is stacked, but two names stand out. Bruce Springsteen lends his voice to “Ten Years Gone,” yet still somehow gets upstaged — Fiona Apple’s performance on “Letter From An Unknown Girlfriend” is astonishing and unforgettable.
The descent into chaos comes via the swirling madness of “Rock Bottom,” before calm returns with the contemplative “I Don’t Know I Made It.” Not everything lands: “Frank (Let’s Fuck)” feels out of place and unnecessary. But “Katherine,” with its gorgeous, lilting piano, absolutely deserves its spot. So too does “Everyone Loves Dennis Hopper,” a Lou Reed-ish nod that finds humour in homage.
And if golf is rarely fun, then “Golf, They Say” proves the exception — a wry, very British slice of songwriting that sticks with you.
Things close in fitting fashion with the punchy “Aftermath,” all riff and rock ‘n’ roll, like the credits rolling on Hopper’s wild life.
“He did it his way,” says Mike Scott — and you don’t need to look far to see why that sentiment fits both the actor and the album. Life, Death and Dennis Hopper is messy, inspired, and often brilliant — just like the man himself.
Rating 8/10
