10 Great Album Covers, Chosen by Roy Burns III of Lewis

My dad’s set of the New International Illustrated Encyclopedia of Art and his record collection were my internet. I loved art and music and movies and anything that combined them. I remember the thrill of my first library card and the excitement of leaving my local with armfuls of art books and totally rad-looking vinyl records—most of them barely playable. (Vinyl—hands down, the least library-friendly format ever.) Upon teenagehood, music became all-consuming. Allowance and lawn-mowing money were duly blown on 45s and cassettes for the Walkman. School trips to New York and D.C. meant subsisting on saltines for days so as to spend every last penny I had on records that I couldn’t get back home—nearly each one bought sound unheard.

So, how did I (mostly) manage to avoid the pitfalls of such youthful risk-taking? The sleeves! For the insatiable music fan of slender means, a nicely appointed sleeve was almost always a guarantee of quality music.

Nearly all of the following records were discovered that way. Through not-so-blind leaps of faith. By unapologetically judging a book by its cover. Each, removed from the music, admirably do what they’re meant to do: entice and intrigue and look cool. But what they all have in common, for me, is that they do the thing that all the very best record sleeves do. When the needle drops, they reveal themselves to be one part of a near-perfect state of audio-visual symbiosis. They actualize the listening experience. They stir and heighten the emotions. They forge strong (and so far, so good) lifelong bonds with the music they hold. These sleeves are all first pieces of the puzzle. For the complete picture, go listen!

Halfnelson
Halfnelson (1971)

Halfnelson are Sparks—brothers Ron and Russel Mael’s long-running cult art pop band. This is their Todd Rundgren-produced debut in all but band name… and this sleeve—a cheeky, elegantly off-kilter study in contrast. From the off the shelf red bordered sticky label inscribed with Shelley Script, to the band’s disinterested mugs surrounding the ebullient Grace Kelly-esque ingenue, it’s like an M&Co. cover eight years before there was such a thing. (I rarely go in for sleeves with band photos. Done as delightfully as this, I’m quite happy to make an exception.)

See also: Sparks, Kimono My House; Sparks, Propaganda; Sparks, No. 1 in Heaven.

The Pop Group
Y (1979)

The sleeves of Malcolm Garrett were my design primer. More specifically, his designs for Duran Duran—inventive typography, dynamic geometric shapes, vivid neon-inspired palettes… none of which can be found on Y, his cover for The Pop Group’s first record. Co-credited with artist Rich Beale, it’s impishly arch and caustic with a DIY crudeness that belies sophistication; and so inextricably linked to the music that you might wonder whether it’s the chicken or the egg.

See also: Buzzcocks, Orgasm Addict; Magazine, The Correct Use of Soap; Duran Duran, Rio; Simple Minds, New Gold Dream (81-82-83-84).

Human Sexual Response
Fig. 14 (1980)

Possibly the smartest, funniest, most spot-on conceptual encapsulation of a band’s name and album title ever. Full-stop. Designed by Peter Mason and photographed by Storm Thorgerson, it’s also one of Hipgnosis’ lesser known designs. A massively under-appreciated sleeve for a massively under-appreciated band. Do yourself a favor!

See also: Pink Floyd, Dark Side of the Moon; 10cc, The Original Soundtrack; Peter Gabriel, Peter Gabriel (2); Black Sabbath, Technical Ecstasy.

Yellow Magic Orchestra
Service (1983)

YMO were more important than the Beatles. (Change my mind!) Their influence on the development and proliferation of multiple electronic music subgenres is virtually impossible to overestimate. They may even have invented hip-hop! Service, their seventh and penultimate record, isn’t my favorite YMO record; but, boy oh boy, that cover! What is it about this Tsuguya Inoue-designed sleeve that I find so endlessly captivating? Is it the meaty red-hued silhouette with its pituitary-adjacent spot of cyan? The giant O? The wonky O? Am I alone?!?! (One or two Radiohead sleeves tell me I’m not.) Not the only amazing YMO sleeve, but, evidently, my favorite.

See also: YMO, After Service; Ryuichi Sakamoto, Coda; Ryuichi Sakamoto, Merry Christmas Mr. Lawrence; Seigen Ono Ensemble, Montreux 93/94; YMO, Box

Duet Emmo
Or So It Seems (1983)

Duet Emmo was a side project of Mute founder Daniel Miller along with BC Gilbert and Graham Lewis of Dome and Wire (Duet Emmo being an anagram of Dome and Mute.) Designed by the Brothers Quay—identical twin makers of lyrical and haunting stop-motion animated films—the cover for Or So It Seems is a wondrous blend of the whimsical and the uncanny. And that type! My favorite among the handful of Quay-designed sleeves (Siouxsie & The Banshees’ Tinderbox is a close second), with it they’re able to achieve in one frame what they typically do with tens of thousands.

See also: Siouxsie And The Banshees, Tinderbox; AC Marias, Just Talk; Modern Eon, Fiction Tales, The Lover Speaks, The Lover Speaks.

Section 25
From the Hip (1984)

For Section 25’s From The Hip, Peter Saville once again (and for the last time) employs the cryptic color-coded titling he’d famously developed for New Order’s Blue Monday and Power, Corruption and Lies sleeves. Working with frequent collaborator, photographer Trevor Key (and perhaps channeling artist Zander Olsen along with a bit of Hipgnosis), Saville imposes this graphic language directly onto the environment via a series of colored poles on a mountainside in Wales—systematically arranged to spell out the album’s title.

See also: New Order, Blue Monday; New Order, Power Corruption and Lies; Roxy Music, Flesh + Blood; Ultravox, Lament.

Scritti Politti
Cupid and Psyche ’85 (1985)

Keith Breeden’s sleeve for Scritti Politti’s Cupid and Psyche ’85 is, in a word, masterful. Equally impressive, its hasty assembly after an eleventh hour rejection of Breeden’s initial design. It’s a stunning, collaged interplay of tactile, unrefined materials—masking tape, torn paper, rubber stamped forms—and elegant, romantic letterforms rendered in embossed block foil. Wonderfully meticulous, rich, and tactile, it’s a love letter to romance that feels every inch like the record it embraces.

See also: Scritti Politti, Wood Beez (Pray Like Aretha Franklin); Scritti Politti with Ranking Ann, The Word Girl (Flesh & Blood); Scritti Politti, Provision; Duran Duran, Seven and the Ragged Tiger; Talk Talk, It’s My Life; Fine Young Cannibals, Fine Young Cannibals.

Felt
Ignite the Seven Cannons (1985)

Chris Bigg is a singular talent. Probably best known as Vaughan Oliver’s former creative partner, Bigg’s own formidable body of work—with its elegant, arcane typography and bold, expressive calligraphy shapes and letterforms—is as recognizable as it is revered. This sleeve was the first of his to catch my eye and hold it… and still hold it. With two colors, a sparse arrangement of typography, and a tightly cropped image of brocade, he conjures sensory illusions with an almost alchemical ability. A sleeve felt just by looking at it.

See also: Pieter Nooten & Michael Brook, Sleeps With the Fishes; Luxuria, Public Highway; Jóhann Jóhannsson, IBM 1401, A User’s Manual; His Name Is Alive, Livonia; The Breeders, All Nerve; David Sylvian, Samadhisound 2003-2014 Do You Know Me Now?

Various Artists
Lonely Is An Eyesore (1987)

Vaughan Oliver made me want to be a graphic designer. In fact, this list could’ve very well been nothing but Vaughan Oliver sleeves. But not easily. Just 10? Impossible. This record fully changed my life. The 4AD label’s compilation album to end all compilation albums is all killer and no filler, containing career-best tracks from each of the bands. The cover, a photograph of the studio state camera’s art-weathered copyboard is, as they say, a choice. But, rendered almost otherworldly, it’s a testament to Oliver’s gift for transforming the mundane into the magnificent. Besides, if this was meant as a snapshot of a small indie label hitting its stride, what better cover star than the literal physical platform that launched the artwork of a thousand releases, and with them, 4AD’s legendary visual aesthetic. If I had to give all of my records away, save for one, this is the one.

See also: This Mortal Coil, Filigree & Shadow; Colourbox, Colourbox; The Wolfgang Press, Standing Up Straight; Dif Juz, Out Of The Trees, Throwing Muses; Chains Changed, Cocteau Twins; Love’s Easy Tears, Le Mystère des Voix Bulgares Vol. 1 and Vol. 2; Pixies, Doolittle.

Scott Walker
Tilt (1995)

When godlike genius Scott Walker tapped Stylorouge to create the cover for Tilt, I wonder if Rob O’Connor and co. knew what they were in for. If its subsequent reception is anything to go by, no one else did, that’s for sure. To say Tilt’s an uneasy listen is the understatement to end all understatements. It’s downright harrowing, yes. But in a most gorgeous way. Drawing on The Cockfighter for inspiration, David Scheinmann’s linchpin image is Walker’s own hand surrounded by a maelstrom of feathers, claws, and cock eyes, layered and manipulated into abstraction. It’s oblique and arresting and, like so much of the record, has probably induced more than its fair share of nightmares.

See also: Siouxsie And The Banshees, Juju; The Creatures, Wild Life; The Passions, I’m In Love With A German Film Star; Squeeze, Cosi Fan Tutti Frutti; Blur, Parklife; Trainspotting Poster Campaign.