Extracts

Jun 15, 2025

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.

Home Music Home Is Where: Hunting Season

Music Music Reviews

Home Is Where: Hunting Season

By Eoghan Lyng

With their third effort, Florida quartet Home Is Where have pivoted further from the realm of emo rock, and while Hunting Season doesn’t live up to the standard set by The Whaler, it showcases a group comfortably melding genres as far afield as country, psychedelic and pop with ease. With “Bike Week,” the quartet dial the clock back to a time when angst-ridden rock dominated the airwaves, as a collection of shrieks and disembodied hooks pulverize the backdrop.

Although there are folk textures in evidence, this album mostly deals in the loud and aggressive, from the march-beat drums at the back to Bea MacDonald’s frenetic, guttural vocals at the front. “Everyone Won the Lotto” opens with a droning noise that makes way for a Byrdsesque guitar twang, which in turn introduces a cluster of jagged, dreamy instrumentation. A bizarre tapestry of tempos is enforced by MacDonald’s hypnotic lead: a shrill, stern vocal scat set to Nashville-tinted percussion. Bathetically, the tune closes with a chorus of voices, as if recalling the ghostly harmonies from the Genesis ballad “Afterglow.”

“Migration Problems” comes closest to what could be called a “normal track”, given the focus on harmonica and a jangly riff, although the subject matter may be disagreeable for conservative pop listeners. A curious marriage of swampy rhythms and 1980s indie rock, “Artificial Groove” is nevertheless a showcase for MacDonald’s malleable voice, jumping from sultry whispers to unexpurgated, uncontrollable falsetto during the chorus. Pointlessly, the power ballad takes an excursion into guitar noodling, but the tone picks up when the vocals return, lifting the work into an often exhilarating bar number. “The Wolf Man” tips its hat to Bob Dylan, both in the way the words are inflected, as well as the furious harmonica that cements the tune.

There are misfires: “Mechanical Bull” is as robotic and as turgid as the title may suggest, whereas “Stand-Up Special” feels like an underdressed rehearsal outtake in pursuit of a more concrete hook. Whatever message lurks in “Shenandoah” is difficult to ascertain on first listen, but at least there’s some great bass guitar, bouncy and bristling with countermelody. The slow waltz heard on “Milk & Diesel” lacks surprise and contradiction; no disservice to the lyrics, which combine satire with venomous bite.

“I’ve never thought that an audience should be as passive as they’ve become,” the singer once proclaimed. “I think they should be an active participant in what’s happening.” Morrison was known for his wild performances, some of them summoning an animal spirit from within. Lead guitarist Robby Krieger later lamented the fact that American audiences put excessive emphasis on the group’s image, but there’s no denying the impact Morrison had on rock. More so than Mick Jagger, Morrison embodied raw cool, supporting the notion that rock could be sexual as much as it could be sincere. In the years after his death, vocalists Robert Plant and Bon Scott continued to ensure that their music shimmied as effectively as it stunned people. And yet here in this book comes a Morrison deep in thought, as one photograph showcases a lyricist in an almost Vedic state of reflection.

Like The Beatles before them, The Doors were happy to change sound, but unlike the Liverpool quartet, they weren’t always encouraged to do so. “The press killed us for changing our precious ‘Doors’ sound,” drummer John Densmore recalled, no doubt referring to the orchestral flourishes that padded out “Touch Me.” Following Morrison’s untimely death in 1971, Densmore and Krieger carried the band name forward with songwriting keyboardist Ray Manzarek for two albums. The trio elected not to hire a singer, fearing comparisons to Morrison, so vocals were delegated between Krieger and Manzarek, who weren’t attempting to be another Morrison. Listening to Other Voices in 2025, it sounds like a natural continuation of L.A. Woman, and the band was welcomed at their live gigs by enthusiastic audiences. It didn’t hurt that the surviving trio were experienced in this arena; Morrison had previously missed a concert in Amsterdam, necessitating the other three performing without him.

He's joined by his son and musical collaborator Art Garfunkel Jr. Over a crackling line,the duo discuss their shared passion for music, although they disagree on eras. "I was influenced by groups like Ultravox and OMD [Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark]," the younger Garfunkel explains. "If I have to choose a favourite Ultravox song, it's 'Vienna', but I do like 'Reap The Wild Wind' too." His father's tastes go back further in history:"I watched the music scene drop off.There was a lot of good stuff in the 1960s, but by 1970 Simon&Garfunkel came to an end, and so did The Beatles. After that, it lost something." The parent laughs, and directs the next comment at his child: "You missed a lot of good stuff, honey." Garfunkel Jr. disagrees. "Vienna is a great song," he says."An absolute song for the age." The duo are ringing to publicise their album, Father and Son, which will be released on November 8th. There is clear musical respect between them, and Garfunkel Jr. gets a little flustered when his father compliments his singing voice. "He's better than me," the 83-year old beams. "He can sing better, and higher than I do."

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