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Ugliness you can hear
I used to enjoy Facebook. In fact, I thought it was performing a valuable public service, helping families and friends stay in touch with one another, sharing pictures of kids and pets, and bringing us all closer together. When I realized that Facebook was collecting information on all of us to sell to the highest bidder, I became less of a fan and spent a lot less time on the site. But I have changed my mind again. I found a page that has renewed my faith in Facebook, and even, dare I say, in humanity itself.
I speak, of course, of the Facebook page dedicated to Bad Album Art. It’s simply wonderful.
As I scroll through this page, and lose myself in the sheer beauty of the ugliness of it all, I find myself strangely drawn to the music on these remarkable albums. I haven’t actually had the courage to listen yet, but after a couple more bourbons, perhaps I will. Maybe today is the day. After all, today is YOUR lucky day, because I’m going to share my joyous discovery with you. Take these, for example:
At this point, I was thinking that those rural, devout Christians are not the snappiest dressers. And, I myself am a rural, devout Christian, and my wife and daughters do make the occasional comment about my lack of fashion sense. So perhaps I should look at more rock and roll-type of albums, rather than gospel. Those will obviously show more fashion sense:
Ok, so maybe rock and roll fashion is even more absurd than gospel. Who’da thunk it? Well, those who sing love songs will be better dressed. After all, they’re trying to attract the opposite sex, right? Worth a try:
Hmmm…
Well, maybe this is just an example of modern fashion being a mess. Let’s go back to the classics, back when people really knew how to dress:
Ok, so maybe it’s not the era or the style of music. Perhaps it’s just that musicians can hear beauty, but cannot see it. Hard to say, I suppose.
I know that many of you are struggling after the hurricane, so I mercifully showed only three examples of just a few genres. I hesitate to add to your suffering, but there is much more. I don’t know how to link to a Facebook page, but you can look it up, and find many equally wonderfully horrifying examples for yourself. Share the exceptional ones below—if you don’t care about human suffering.
But just imagine someone from another country trying to assess our culture by looking at our music—or rather, the album covers. Someone from China, or Congo, or California. They would think that Americans are, um, a bit odd. Or perhaps very odd.
And perhaps we are. Perhaps that’s why I feel so drawn to this beautiful ugliness. What could be more American?
Or perhaps I should stay off Facebook when I’m drinking. Eh, whatever.
Ok, I’ve had enough bourbon to venture forth into the actual music. It’s got to be on the internet somewhere. Sometimes to find beauty, one must push past the ugliness.
Wish me luck.
Published in General
Oh, my.
The bit from the Spinal Tap “mockumentary” about their album cover, would be good here.
It took a while, Doc, but you finally got to it!
Now you’ve gone and done it.
Chet didn’t make it to the studio.
Ace Cannon did, but wasn’t very excited.
I guess around album #19 or so, it’s difficult projecting the magic.
Oh my goodness.
I just found some of this music online.
I thought that I had had enough bourbon to enjoy it.
I was wrong.
Oh my goodness…
Some of them are fake.
… some of them are creepy
… and some just poorly thought out
okay, I’ll stop.
For now.
I have the original release on vinyl. I have been unable to sell it to anyone.
In my mind’s ear I can hear the NPR interview. The woman wouldn’t even say the title of the song they were discussing. It was just a song about his dog being sent back to obedience school.
The fashion of the 70’s were so remarkable that I find it just astounding that the human race remained capable of procreating:
He was called by some that “generation’s Frank Sinatra”. Ladies and Gentlemen, Gino Vannelli.
She looks dissatisfied…
Terrifying. I can’t stop looking in horror. Dr. B isn’t helping either. I could have gone my whole life without opening this post.
Well the lyrics said, “Now that you see . . . the man that is me . . . you’re suddenly glad I’ll be gone . . .”
Shirtless sexy flautist. You can’t have a bad album cover thread without mentioning Herbie Mann.
I had a coworker who festooned (“decorated” is not quite the word) his cubicle with albums like these. I guess he bought ’em at Half Price Books or similar. (I guess there aren’t “record stores” anymore.) He may have had the one titled He Touched Me. The others he had were, uh, close enough. Anyway, it was always fun to visit his cube! Square-foot cardboard envelopes may communicate gloom but mostly what they do is abolish thought.
He had another one titled All My Friends Are Dead. The words were large but the image was small: a photo of a man holding a Bible, kneeling on the lush grass next to a tombstone. I haven’t been in touch with this guy – my coworker, I mean – but I had recently thought to ask him if he had ever listened to any of these albums, which were of all the genres sampled in the OP. I doubt that he has, but if he ever does, I bet they sound like they look. In that e-mail, which I never did send and finally deleted, I mused on instruments played on that particular album. We may never know, even if I do regenerate the e-mail and send it, but I will guess it has no banjos or baritone saxes, no kazoos or flugelhorns either, maybe briefly a triangle or tambourine, exactly one clarinet, probably a cello, inevitably a lifetime supply of organ. Lowest nonzero chance of an instrument featured: theremin. Call that a crazy feeling.
As for what foreigners think of all this: in the highly unlikely event they see it, they are fascinated and reassured by it. That is not to say they like it, or understand it. As anyone who has ever traveled overseas knows, America has stuff, and foreign lands don’t. Those facts alone are the greatest leverage our country has against all alien cultures. Those cultures count on us to produce stuff. And we sure do!
Nothing says, “Save Me Jesus,” like ventriloquism:
I might buy that, just for the jacket photos.
And of course the movie album was supposed to be called “Smell The Glove” but the record company made it just have an all-black cover.
And, there was the next song one of them was working on…
I don’t have enough bourbon to get through all of this. Probably a good thing because I would have to sit on the floor to lessen the chance of a concussion when I passed out.