Words and Guitar, Vol. 6: Every Picture Tells A Story
The sixth entry in a weekly column by Terence Cawley.
Other than concerts, which I’ve already discussed in this space, the music-related real-world experience I miss most is record shopping. Even more than the ostensible goal of buying albums, which I can still do online, what I miss about these excursions is aimlessly flipping through seemingly endless racks of vinyl. So much of the fun was in never knowing what you’d find, with some of the most memorable discoveries being things you’d never consider actually purchasing, but which it still made you happy to know existed. Which brings us to this week’s list:
Top 5 Goofy ‘70s Rock Album Covers
There was a certain type of ‘70s rock band – generally a group of lunkheaded white men with a generic arena-rock sound which was extremely popular but critically disdained or ignored – whose albums tended to sport silly, ugly, or just kind of baffling cover art. I’ve always been morbidly fascinated by this very specific subgenre of bad album covers, and I don’t think my appreciation is entirely based in irony or kitsch.
On one level, these albums give a fuller picture of what is now considered the “classic rock” era. We tend to remember only the best, most timeless bands and records from that time, but for every Dark Side of the Moon, there were dozens of albums whose creators didn’t put nearly as much thought into the visual presentation of their work, instead settling for whatever cheap pun or pre-Photoshop monstrosity they could get their hands on. And since the vinyl sleeve is a larger canvas than a cassette or CD case (or, for that matter, a thumbnail on your iPod or phone), these pieces demanded your attention, whether or not they deserved it.
I think I also appreciate the earnest lack of pretension or self-consciousness in so many of these album covers. Just as the music these bands trafficked in was more concerned with good times and rocking out than making grand artistic statements, these covers sought merely to catch the record-buyer’s attention and maybe give them a chuckle. In that spirit, here are five of my favorites.
- Deep Purple – Come Taste the Band (1975)
Deep Purple honestly deserve a lifetime achievement award in this realm. The influence of this pioneering hard-rock band’s equally pioneering album art can be seen in such works as Intravenous De Milo by Spinal Tap and Shark Sandwich by Spinal Tap. As predecessors of heavy metal, Deep Purple are arguably responsible for an entire genre’s worth of absurd album art – for example, Black Sabbath’s Technical Ecstasy, whose Wikipedia entry has an “Artwork” section which I cannot recommend highly enough.
It all started with 1970’s In Rock, though its depiction of the band members’ faces carved in rock (GET IT?!?!?) à la Mount Rushmore is maybe a shade too refined for my liking. 1971’s Fireball found the band continuing to experiment with where they could put their faces, this time placing them within the titular fireball while also taking the bold step of making some of their necks super stretchy and long to mimic the tail of a comet. The trilogy reached its thrilling conclusion with Come Taste the Band, when the heads which had become candles on 1974’s Burn found their final resting place within a glass of red wine. The vague album title makes it hard not to fantasize about what other consumables would benefit from the presence of Deep Purple’s heads. After all, it’s not called Come Drink the Band – why not sear their silhouettes onto some sizzling pork chops?
- Black Oak Arkansas – High on the Hog (1973)
My first exposure to this band was hearing their cover of the LaVern Baker song “Jim Dandy” on the Dazed and Confused soundtrack. Since then, I have only known them for two things: having the most annoying song on an otherwise perfect collection of ‘70s rock classics, and this album cover. Improbably enough, the artist behind this heavy-handed gag, Joe Petagno, also designed Motörhead’s iconic “War-Pig” logo. Dude was really into pigs, I guess. Also, I just noticed that there’s a song on this album called “Moonshine Sonata,” which, credit where credit’s due, is an amazing song title.
- Grand Funk Railroad – All the Girls in the World Beware!! (1974)
No doubt inspired by Deep Purple, the members of Grand Funk placed their heads onto the bodies of Arnold Schwarzenegger and fellow ‘70s bodybuilder Franco Columbu. What truly elevates this prime example of unwitting homoeroticism to the next level is the doubling down on the concept on the back cover…and the disc label…AND the inside sleeve. Since this album contains a top-10 pop hit in Grand Funk’s cover of the John Ellison song “Some Kind of Wonderful,” I can’t stop thinking about all the people who must have heard that song on the radio, gone to their local record store to get a copy, and then had to decide whether they truly liked the song enough to justify displaying this album cover in their homes. Since the album was also a top-10 hit, I guess that’s a sacrifice plenty of people were willing to make.
Like High on the Hog, the cover of All the Girls in the World Beware!! had some real talent behind it. One of the people responsible for the concept, Lynn Goldsmith, went on to a well-respected career in rock photography, film, and music after getting her start as Grand Funk’s co-manager. It goes to show that some of the people behind all this ridiculous album art just might have known exactly what they were doing.
- Foghat – Foghat (1973)
Spotify cannot seem to make up its mind about this album. The original version is called Rock & Roll (aka Foghat), while the 2016 remaster is called Foghat (aka Rock & Roll). Wikipedia clarifies that the album’s actual title is Foghat, with Rock & Roll being a fan-given nickname. The fans gave it that nickname, you see, because the album’s cover is a picture of a rock and a roll. That’s it. There is no way to misinterpret this image (though one friend I sent it to did think that the rock was a steak).
There’s a bit in this AV Club interview Nathan Rabin did with Best Show hosts Tom Scharpling and Jon Wurster where Scharpling talks about his and Wurster’s shared amusement at the existence of this album cover, and it articulates the entire idea behind this article in a much more concise, funny form, which I guess is why they’re beloved comedians and I am not. One thing the three of us do share in common, though: we love Rock & Roll.
- Roger Daltrey – Ride a Rock Horse (1975)
None of the albums on this list have left much of a legacy, but none seems to have left a smaller footprint than Ride a Rock Horse, which is surprising since you may have heard of this guy’s main band. It’s not even on Spotify; if you want to hear it, you’ll have to either buy a copy or go to YouTube. How could a solo album released by the singer of The Who in the mid-‘70s –one of rock history’s greatest and most beloved bands, at arguably the height of their popularity – come and go so quietly? Was it because of that album cover?
I still remember finding this album in a thrift store in high school and being immediately dumbstruck by the utter doofiness of what I held in my hand. It wasn’t just that the image was absurd; I had seen my fair share of ungainly imagery on LP covers by then. Maybe it was Daltrey’s vaguely pained grin and upraised fist, both conveying a desperate need to project rock-god power in a scenario which could only produce abject humiliation. Mostly, I think it was the incomprehensibility of the title. What the hell is a “rock horse”? Is it a horse made of rock? A horse that enjoys rock music? A horse which is as exciting to ride as rock is to listen to? Is it a play on “rocking horse”? If Ride a Rock Horse was a commonly used phrase in the English language, perhaps the awkwardness of the image would be forgivable; perhaps if the picture had succeeded in making Daltrey look like a majestic stallion, the awkwardness of the title could be excused. In their present combination, however, each component sinks under the weight of the other.
Daltrey’s cousin, Graham Hughes, photographed and designed the abomination you see before you. Just two years earlier, Hughes had designed and photographed the front cover of The Who’s Quadrophenia, a great cover for a great album. So what went wrong here? I doubt that I will ever grow wise enough to learn the answer. It is a mystery destined to haunt me for the rest of my days.
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Well, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go lie in bed with all the lights turned off, staring at the ceiling and thinking about Ride a Rock Horse. I’ll be back next week, but until then feel free to share any favorite goofy album covers of your own and give this Spotify playlist a listen.