The Worst Album Sleeves Ever}

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The worst album sleeves ever



Top-selling artists should be able to buy themselves the best designers around. The record companies, you think, would owe them. They make millions every time they strum a few chords, gold is pouring out of them. And designers? How many designers do we have? How many talented artists falling out of college with first class honours degrees. It’s got to be a perfect marriage, great art, great music. No it ain’t. Get a load of this from some of the biggest names in the business –

Rolling Stones – Let It Bleed

The pitch: ‘We’ve got this turntable see . . . but instead of records on it we’ve got . . . other like roundy type things on it . . . like this clock face, and a tyre, a cake plate, and a film reel, and this like pizza type thingy . . . and on the top . . . on the very top we got this cake, a cake with icing and cherries and guess what . . . cutesy little marzipan figures of the band. So, what do you think? . . . What? . . . The name of the album? It’s err called, err . . . Let It Bleed . . . Where’s everybody going?’

Bob Dylan – Saved

Michaelangelo did it in style on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel – God’s finger reaching out to breathe life into Adam. Stunning. Breathtaking. World famous of course and, Michelangelo, well he was a genius. The designer of this album sleeve, well Michelangelo he wasn’t. I know there’s a market for religious kitsch – plastic madonnas and Jesus Christ key rings – and I know Dylan is a born-again Christian, but this is one of the biggest rock stars of the age. Please.

Iggy Pop – Lust For Life

OK Iggy, you’re a big rock star now. What with the Dave Bowie thing. So we gonna put just your face on the cover of the new Lust For Life album. Yes, your face, big, iconic, cool. And we’re just flickin’ through the snaps and – gotcha, bingo! That’s the one! The one where you look about fourteen and a laugh-out-loud lunatic, the one with the cheesy grin and the sticky out ears, the goofy tombstone teeth, the baggy-sack eyes, the sticky-down greasy hair. Whatcha think? Iggy?

Beach Boys – Pet Sounds

The Beach Boys are big, getting bigger and the latest album is going to take them stratospheric. Pet Sounds is going to be one of the best albums ever. It’s going platinum. And the sleeve? Well, you know – pet sounds – pets – pets are animals – animals are in zoos – you could take the boys down to the zoo and snap them with the animals. Only kidding. No, really. Please. No. You’re not really going to do that . . . are you? Oh my God, you are.

Cher – The Very Best Of Cher

Cher, sweetheart. You look so sexy, you know, with those pursed lips and the droopy spaniel eyes, the Madonna smile – no, calm down, not that one sugar. OK now? I look at you and I see – pre-Raphaelitey, Gothicky, Tolkeiny. I see elf, I see sprite. I see you in front of an Olde Englishe pattern wallpaper. Maybe your name spelled out with a wrought iron gate at the front – CHER. Yea. All we need now is do something with the hair. I thought . . . magnolia.

Kiss – Love Gun

The stage act is great – sleazy glam, blood spitting, fire eating, smoke bombing, fist pounding stuff. OK, none of them have learned to write yet and they can only play two notes so we can ditch the guitars. Let’s keep the goofy Klingon outfits, the face masks, the thigh boots. Get some vampire looking chicks and spread ’em around a bit. A coupla columns, some fire, lotsa dry ice. This is gonna look so great on the kiddies’ school lunchboxes – just think of the merchandising.

Millie Jackson – Back To The Sh*t

Millie? Please? Can you sit on the pan please? Knickers down? Round the ankles? Great. OK, some strain on the face. Millie, we need a shoe. Take your shoe off. Hold it out, like a big turd. Great. No. Hell. Something’s missing. Ah! A vase of flowers – by the toilet pan. Great. OK Millie, bare those teeth, stretch those knickers. Strain, baby strain. Got it. Great. Wow. We’ve got an album cover. . . just need some Scrabble letters across the top . . . for that little touch of class.

Travel writer Bob Cartwright writes for TravelSavvy Europe

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The worst album sleeves ever