Holy shit, yes!
If the purpose of an album cover (“a whuuut?”, ask the kidz) is to illustrate, complement or merely represent the contents of the album itself, then there are a lot of bands who have, at some point or another, seriously dropped the ball — and it’s up to us to call them out on it!
This was brought to mind for me a few days ago, as I went looking for the J. Geils Band album that contained one of my fave JGB chunes, “The Lady Makes Demands.” It turned out it was contained on the 1973 album “Ladies Invited.” But you’d never have guessed by looking at the album cover! It’s like the band clambered into a time machine and magically transported themselves, along with their graphic designer, to the mid-80s for a sit-down with the packaging experts assisting Duran Duran or Robert Palmer. WTF? Various online music sites told me “Ladies Invited” sales were “disappointing.” No shit! It’s because nobody on Earth could have guessed that cover contained one hard-partyin’ album by Boston’s number one fun-time bar band!
Anyhow, my question to you is: what other album covers have been absolutely, completely, mysteriously WRONG like “Ladies Invited”?
I look forward to your responses.
HVB
Hey, gang. Mod’s impertinent commentary about Jimi Hendrix’s late career — and specifically his disdainful dismissal of Jimi’s performance at Woodstock — got me thinking about the original big ‘do at Yasgur’s Farm. A quick search on the web for basic set list information on the event led me to conclude that there was a lot of shit that went down there I had no idea about. CCR? Johnny Winter? Neil Young? Mountain? The Incredible String Band? It got me thinking.
Mainly, it got me thinking: is there a snowball’s chance in hell I would have ever braved the traffic jams, the weather, the stench, and the bad acid to check out this show? And if not: how would the show have to have been edited to get me up there?
Of course, I’m just as eager to understand your opinions on the subject. Have a look at the following set list, and let me know your thoughts.
I look forward to your responses.
HVB
We all have our favorite trainwreck songs and videos — bits of musi-cultural flotsam that we remain fascinated by, despite (or perhaps because of) the fact that they repel us. One of mine is the song “Here I Go Again” by Whitesnake. Man, this song has everything: an idiotic lyric, a singer who gloriously over-sings every line (my particular favorite: “I ain’t wastin’ no more taahhhm”), the wailing “here I goooo agaaaain” just before the tasteless solo; it’s just awesome.
But it’s the video I ned your help with today. I watched this for, like, the 500th time this morning, as marital get-back on my wife for making me listen to some awful Asia song she YouTubed in a fit of high school nostalgia. And, once again, I fell under its spell.
So many questions: why is the girl sprawled across two cars, when David Coverdale only ever drives one of them? Why is Coverdale’s glorious blonde mane always back-lit, making it look smaller? How is Coverdale able to drive with that girl literally crawling all over him? Why does he only smile once in the whole video — and why at that precise moment? What makes David Coverdale happy?
Though I’m looking for something a bit deeper than just a laundry list of “wait for it moments,” I would like to call a few out for your review, in the hopes they may shed some light on the intended meaning of this film.
First, Coverdale’s blatant crotch-stare at 2:00:
Now, his sweet and tender butterfly kiss, at 2:54:
Note that David’s fellow band-mates also may play important roles in the deciphering of this filmic mystery. Here’s the bass player licking his bass at 4:15:
… and don’t forget to catch the lead guitarist stumbling to his feet after falling to his knees during his fiery solo.
The question for all of these things is: why? What meaning can you find in this short film? I want — no, I need — answers.
I look forward to your responses.
HVB
Hey, quick question: who was the first Rock artiste you remember liking who was your age or younger? It occurred to me the other day that kids who cut their baby Rock teeth in the ’70s might have had an unusually high proportion of favorite artists who were much older than they were — as compared to, say, those who were in their teens in the mid- to late-’60s. If you were a 17-year-old Stones fan in 1966, for example, Mick Jagger would have been just 6 years older than you. For me, being a 17-year-old Stones fan in 1981 made me 21 years younger than Sir Mick. By the time I got to college, and became a huge Jam fan, Paul Weller was 6 years older than me. Same for d boon. I suspect I turned this corner by the time I was 25 or so. But who would my artist contemporary have been? I’m having a hard time figuring this out. Nowadays, of course, they’re all much younger and stupider than me.
I look forward to your responses.
HVB