Words. Then pictures…

I’ve long been fascinated with album covers that rely heavily on typography to get their point across. Sometimes, it’s necessity; perhaps “good” photos aren’t available or they are simply more appropriate for texture and ambience. Perhaps it is a compilation or historical record where relevant photography just isn’t available. While the following covers do feature imagery, it is decidedly secondary — or, at least, secondary to the type treatment.

“WHEN RHYTHM WAS KING” Various Artists

This is another of my favorite covers. As I’ve mentioned elsewhere on the site, the Heartbeat re-branding project leaned heavily on the packaging.

I loved the title that Chris Wilson and Josh Blood had come up with — “When Rhythm Was King” — and felt it set the tone for the project.  I had some interesting period-specific shots of a Jamaican dancehall to use, but something was missing. I started editing down some of the marketing/press copy that usually goes on the back of a compilation and put it front and center on the cover. That did the trick; suddenly, it was ALL attitude: “Collectors Beware,” “Put it on, you can’t take it off,” “Serious Thing,” and “Damn right. Studio One,” and that was just on the front cover. An aggressive and strong type treatment and a mezzotint on the vintage photographs within, completed the package. We didn’t have a lot to use, but boy, did it all hang together now — a simple but strong concept. And, of course, the music inside is up to the task. Pure Jamaican rhythms. Since Heartbeart Records is apparently no longer with us, this is one to search out. You won’t be disappointed.

DEVO “Live: The Mongoloid Years”

To be honest, this is a project that I really, really, really wanted to do a die cut for. The type would be cut out of the cover slipcase, and the photo — originally a black and white — would slide in to reveal what you see here. Unfortunately, die cuts were rather expensive back in the day so I had to improvise. This comes damn close, with the title highly readable, and the imagery taking you a minute to process. Remember those amazing days when you could actually get this close to a performer? I thought the design was pretty effective overall, and did actually look like a die cut.

Ah, budgets…the mother of creativity! Who knew..?



JAMES HAND “The Truth Will Set You Free”

I recall this photo being an early favorite of mine for the cover, and perhaps James’ as well. However, it did not really lend itself to the simple Name/Title format. The negative space, usually an asset in my eyes, proved formidable. Often, the type treatments simply got lost here. Once again, I turned to the press release that had been circulated about this release, and edited out some of my favorite bits to make a short narrative that ended with the title. It reads:

Somewhere in Texas, a haunting voice reverberates
Off saloon walls, a voice rich with the echoes of
Timeless Country music
The singer & the songwriter is James Hand
And he has a story to tell
Listen once and “The Truth Will Set You Free!”

SACRED COWBOYS "It's A Beautiful Day"

I recently worked on a project with a very unique aesthetic and a very different process than I’m used to. It was for the LA-based band Sacred Cowboys and I was approached by lead guitarist Peter Spirer. Peter is an old friend of mine and we’ve been working on a documentary about the rock and roll billboards of the Sunset Strip. The lead singer and chief songwriter is W. Earl Brown, who played enforcer and bodyguard Dan Dority on “Deadwood,” and is a guest star on the current hit “Mandalorian.”

The band had shot a video for a single they wanted to drop, and wondered if I could come up with cover art — NOT a video still or pull — that reflected the video. Here’s the video:

Peter sent the image below as a guide and I’ll admit upon first sight, I was unsure as to how to proceed. I was wary it might be outside my comfort zone. I turned to Peter for more insight. What was the song about? “It’s a whimsical look at life, let it be and let it go. Don’t get too hung up and stressed out,” Spirer told me. Now it sounded fun! 

What about the video? “Singer W. Earl Brown came up with the idea of doing the song in one take, which it was,” Peter informed me. “We rehearsed the blocking a number of times and once we got it down I thought we had a video. Once I got it into the editing room, I realized it needed something more.  The song has a whimsical feel and it’s about letting go. When one is able to let go, the mind opens up to imagination and a connection with nature. I wanted to give the song that kind of wonderment.” Cool! I can do fun, I thought.

There was a hitch, in that there was a specific release day that they wanted the video and song to drop; Inauguration Day. Was this political? “This song is not political though the timing of its release might be considered so. “It’s A Beautiful Day” promotes peace, love, gratitude and unity. Who isn’t depressed these days?” Spirer continued. “We felt with Covid and all the political unrest that releasing "It’s A Beautiful Day" near the inauguration would be give viewers and listeners a fresh perspective and a new start and outlook on life. Lots of people are looking forward to the day as a new beginning.”

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I thought Peter’s initial sketch captured all of the above, and simply needed some tightening up. I lost the killer whale, and changed the type. Sinatra, keyboardist Ralph Steven’s pig, is the star of the show, so I wanted him to break out of the frame. It gives the thing a bit of depth. Earl Brown then thought it should look like a poster on an old barn, surrounded by tattered remnants of other posters. I loved this idea and think it adds *a lot*. 

This was a fun project. And it’s super fun song and video. And isn’t it time for a little bit of fun? Enjoy.

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Source: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UqzrCYbCPU...

BRANFORD MARSALIS QUARTET ”Four MF's Playin' Tunes“

After Songs of Mirth and Melancholy, his gorgeous duet album with Joey Calderazzo, Branford Marsalis returned to his quartet for the next record, Four MF’s Playin’ Tunes. It was the first Branford Marsalis Quartet project since 2009 and featured newly enlisted drummer Justin Faulkner, and Marsalis was very excited about this version of the band. That, in fact, was the basis of his visual direction to me: this band was hot, they played extremely well off of each other, and each player was an integral piece. And, with that, I was off…

I came up with a concept that was easy to explain, but understood that it might be hard to visualize, since the whole hook played off the camera’s shutter speed. The idea was to feature each member, starting with Branford, seated in a simple chair against a white seamless backdrop. Then, behind him, the other three band members would hustle in and out, constantly walking and moving behind Branford. The photographer, Eric Ryan Anderson, would then focus on Marsalis, sitting extremely still, and utilize a very slow shutter speed so everyone else would be a blur. I thought this perfectly represented Branford’s idea of this band.

To fully illustrate that each person, at some point, stood at the center of the music, we had each member take his turn “in the chair,” while the former subject joined in the blur of energy in the background. It was awesome, simultaneously one of the most fun —  and most stressful — shoots I’ve ever worked on. The very nature of the concept was random; you simply couldn’t tell what you were going to get, but thank goodness for the digital age. Laptops gave us real-time updates where we could make adjustments instantly; this would have been a nightmare, if not impossible, with film. Eric Ryan Anderson was brilliant, and the band was tireless in our pursuit of what we were looking to execute.

Knowing we had achieved what we wanted, we celebrated and called it a day. We took a TON of pictures, and although many weeded themselves out for various reasons — people had walked out of the frame, the subject at the center had moved and was also blurry — we had lot to choose from, and everyone found a shot of themselves they liked. For once, we did not have to find a single photo of four people, where all four people were happy with how they looked!

As I laid out a series of approved photographs, I had an idea on how to further the metaphor of Branford’s vision of the band. Since they were ALL integral to the band, why not make a booklet where you could fold it in a way that each band member could be on the cover? By reproducing the title of the record on each panel, this could be easily accomplished — and, boy, did the rhythm section love this concept! Although the record did not yet have a title, I mocked it up with some dummy type and worked with our printer to get a fold that could accommodate this concept. It was very cool — perfect “conceptual continuity” to quote the late, great Frank Zappa.

Now…about that title. The shoot was over, the design work nearly finished, but there was still no title for the record. There was a conference call with Branford, his management/label reps, and myself and, after much discussion, Branford was exasperated and said “I don’t care what you call it. Call it four motherfuckers playing tunes.” The call ended shortly after that, but I could not get that potential title out of my head. It fit *perfectly* and after some discussion, a censored version got the official go ahead.

There was still one more piece to complete; the tray card. That piece can fill up quickly, with the tracks and times featured, and the necessary evils of logos, legal lines and the UPC shoehorned in. It simply doesn’t leave much room for graphics, particularly if you’re looking at a full band shot. Combing through the photos, I was struck by a singular image, likely a throwaway shot simply to check lighting and framing. It was the lone chair that quietly shared the stage with the quartet, in stark light against the seamless background fabric. Not only did it offer lots of negative space to accommodate all of the type, it presented a beautiful idea to me. After the shoot was over, it was the last thing standing, and for my concept of the revolving group energy around each musician, it offered up the metaphor of being the musical document left behind from the band, their recording sessions, and the photo shoot.

I’ve recently come across Yo Yo Ma’s latest release “Six Revolutions: Bach Cello Suites” and did a double, triple and quadruple take. I thought, “That’s my cover for ‘Four MF’s! Right down to the simple chair!” I put a lot of conceptual thought into this project and can’t help but wonder what the thought process was behind the Ma cover. They say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, but, man…I can only hope it’s an homage of some sort and not just co-opting the concepts and ideas I brought to bear for the “Four MF’s…” project. Damn!

STEVE OLSON “Conversations” and “The Ruthless Shapes of Paradise”

I love working with jazz musicians. Maybe it’s the way they’re wired — pre-disposed to experimentation, risk-taking and collaboration. Most musicians I’ve worked with tend to be that way as well, but the jazz guys are always open to out-of-the-box thinking. And, maybe, it’s that I’ve been especially happy with the jazz covers I’ve designed through the process.

Steve Olson is a Baltimore-area drummer and producer who reached out to me, as a fan of the Raising Sand artwork from the 2008 Robert Plant and Alison Krauss record. We’ve done two records together, and Steve has sent several other jazz musicians my way. Here’s the backstory on Steve’s two records, Conversations and The Ruthless Shapes of Paradise.

I did not know of Steve’s work, but he explained to me “the concept behind Conversations was intimate, one-on-one duos with other musicians.” His notes, included in the CD packaging, referenced “conversations, dialogue, and aural paintings.”

We looked at a lot of images, from a variety of styles and subject matter, and kept coming back to the cafe table and chairs. I believe Steve found it.

Below left is the original color version he presented me. I recently asked him what the image said to him. He responded:

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“To me, the close surroundings, and the chairs and table, imply that a very personal communication between two people either just occurred, or is about to. Or from the listener’s perspective, they are about to have that conversation with the musicians, or eavesdrop on one.”

I definitely concurred that this image addressed all of those things. I LOVED the colors in the original, but felt it wasn’t quite right. I thought maybe the colors were too strong and wanted to simplify it, to zero in on just the image itself, so I drained all of the color and pushed the contrast to make it even more monochromatic. Now, it spoke to me. 

I also cropped the shot to two chairs, instead of the three, with one of those two also cropped out of the photo, and putting more focus on the one with its “back” to the viewer. This, combined with the starkness, gave the composition a bit of mystery… an edge. It felt like “unfinished” business to me. Did we interrupt something, rather than simply eavesdrop? Like great music or lyrics, I find things much more interesting where there are multiple possibilities, leaving that final assumption to the viewer/listener. Finally, I used very simple and strong type so that emphasis is left focused on the table and chairs.

We next worked together on, The Ruthless Shapes of Paradise, a trio featuring Steve accompanied by Denman Maroney on “hyperpiano," and Oscar Noriega on alto saxophone and bass clarinet.

Steve is a huge fan of Mark Rothko, and had hopes of licensing one of his pieces of art for this project, but that proved economically challenging. What was it, I wondered, about Rothko’s art that attracted the drummer, and why was that a starting point for this project visually? 

Olson explains: “I’ve loved Rothko’s work since I first saw it decades ago, long before I was a musician. Much of this recording was inspired by the music, and esthetic, of composer Morton Feldman, who was a close friend of Rothko’s. Their art was intertwined in the 1940s and ‘50s. So I knew right away that I wanted a Rothko-esque visual to go along with the Feldman-esque music.”

Luckily, I found a wealth of Rothko-inspired artwork that did fit our budget. I focused on the word “Ruthless” in the title; that word, to me, was very angry…very hot. Following that lead, I weeded out any works that had muted colors or earth tones. I also focused on pieces that were more shapeless, with space and breathing room, than Rothko’s more grid-oriented work.

I adjusted and pushed the colors to create a palette I felt represented all of the above, and utilized a single piece of art for the additional panels, changing only the color. I again utilized a simple typeface, less as conscious branding, but rather as a nod to the simplicity and effectiveness as those classic Blue Note and, especially ECM, covers.

So. Did we find Rothko, space, art, and music?

“Very much so. The cover depicts openness, possibility, yet also purpose and possible directions. Exactly the same as the music,” concludes Olson.

Now…about that title…

“I stole the phrase from a biography of composer Morton Feldman. The writer used it to describe Feldman’s music. I just loved the turn of phrase, and thought it nicely described both the joy and pain of creating art.”

Jazz cats…they’re a special breed.

BRANFORD MARSALIS/JOEY CALDERAZZO "Songs of Mirth and Melancholy"

Branford Marsalis has always provided his music to me in advance and asked me to "design what you hear." Believe me, those words are an art director's dream; that level of trust is really hard to find. But it also places an enormous responsibility on your shoulders; you really want to make sure you get it right.

This project was a collaboration with longtime Marsalis pianist Joey Calderazzo and presented a unique challenge; to my ears, the music was incredibly "open" and sparse, with lots of space around the two instruments. At the same time, there was a very obvious familiarity between the two musicians, and that closeness also informed the music. I was intent on somehow capturing and conveying these two disparate concepts on the cover.

CD/LP Back Cover Photo

I knew the focus, or part of it at least, would be on Branford and Joey. I came up with the idea of using scale to represent the openness of the music; the familiarity aspect would have to be provided by the two musicians.  I mocked up some very detailed computer sketches for Branford to help visualize and explain my concept using stock art and models.

With a preliminary green light, I started looking for locations with high ceilings and a unique, ambient vibe, as I did not want the musicians to be overwhelmed by their surroundings. I found a warehouse space in South Boston for the shoot, and it was perfect; a giant, empty space with concrete floors and a huge brick wall painted white. I knew the musicians would just pop right out of that background. Unfortunately, that plan fell apart at the last minute.

I discovered that the photographer for the shoot, Boston-based Stephen Sheffield, had a connection to the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston. The museum had just recently opened the new Art of the Americas wing, which featured a beautiful, massive granite wall. We negotiated to do the shoot on a Monday holiday. However, a holiday meant more visitors and we had to start the shoot at 6 a.m. to be finished when the museum opened to the public at 9 a.m. Working musicians seldom like a call time that early, but we were running up against a tour, so Branford and Joey, knowing our time constraints, were game. The space was lit by skylights, which meant we did not need to set up any additional lighting and could move quickly.

Obviously, an outtake.

Sheffield and I started marking off spots on the floor for the musicians to stand and began framing the shot. Sadly (predictably?), my tight script just wasn't working; I had pictured the musicians at either corner of the frame, walking either toward or away from each other. Unfortunately, it lacked the energy I was seeking and looked "too" staged. Thank goodness for digital cameras tethered to laptops so you can see the shoot in real time!

Meanwhile, Branford and Joey started goofing around and cracking jokes. Sheffield was ready and snapped the singular shot that became the cover There were no others like it because Joey had just said something that made Branford laugh. If you look closely, Branford is covering his mouth and Joey is looking off to the side so that he, also, wouldn't start cracking up. ONE shot. And there you have it...that "thing" we were missing; that "thing" that gave a human connection to the scale and space concept. The poster really accentuated the spatial concept, due to not being constrained to a square format.

By the way, Branford was also more than capable of being a cutup, and both the musicians kept the shoot quite loose as Sheffield and I fine-tuned ideas on the fly. See the outtake above left. In retrospect, I think Branford and Joey's personalities were key to the success of the shoot, and the body language on the back cover illustrates those split-second moments that work.

Poster

I have always looked to some of the classic Blue Note covers for inspiration. Reid Miles and Francis Wolffe really changed album cover design with their interesting use of size, scale, perspective and, of course, their simple yet beautiful typography. This was my guide — and goal — for this album cover, and  "Songs of Mirth and Melancholy" remains one of my favorite covers I've worked on.