My Favorite Album Covers

I'm starting the process of working with a graphic designer on the album art of Calling All Dawns, and so I figured this might be a good opportunity to organize my thoughts on just a few of my favorite album covers, especially as they might apply to my own album art design. You'll notice that, for the most part, they come from just a few bands and labels; that's because on the whole, there are certain elements that I am repeatedly drawn to, and certain things that I shy away from (for example, there are very few album covers that actually *show* the musicians, that I find interesting). And on the whole, many of the more unique bands maintain a consistency of brand image from album to album--so again and again, if I really like a band because of their pioneering qualities as artists, chances are I'll consistently like the decisions they make with regard to cover art.

Take Radiohead, for example:

Hail To The Thief is probably my all-time favorite album cover (despite being a rip-off of Paula Scher's work). First off, I like the hand-made feeling of it; the texture, the imperfect lines... It's abstract and compelling, and befits the haunting and moody qualities of their music beautifully. And likewise, it looks like 'real art'--if you didn't know anything about the product, you would be hard pressed to guess that it was an album cover. Similarly, OK Computer and Amnesiac remind me of Robert Rauschenberg and Mark Rothko respectively.

All my life I've been drawn to ECM Records' New Music Series.

Again, they're very abstract covers; black and white photography, very understated images (yet rich and full of depth and detail). Occasionally they border on the sentimental and new-age, but on the whole they stand alone as works of art, and aren't terribly explicit about the music contained within (both traits that appeal to me).

This Modest Mouse cover is something I just stumbled across while researching this blog post, but I quite like it as well:

In addition to the understated color palette, I also like the unidentifiable image in the center (presumably it's Antarctica? Looks more like a rorschach blot to me). I also like the symmetry of the presentation; matter of fact, I tend to lean towards simple graphical images that are presented front and center (pretty much all my t-shirts sport graphics that follow that simple template).

Of all the Rolling Stones album covers out there, most of them are pretty hideous in my mind, but the one that I like is from their live album Flashpoint:

It's so simple. So powerful. The text setting (Helvetica?), the use of a regular-typeface followed by a bold one, the iconic imagery....it totally works for me.

I really enjoy powerful, bold, iconic imagery--but the problem is, this is somewhat at odds with what I said before, about liking abstract, nuanced, understated works of art. But I'm allowed to have more than one preference, correct? I think for Calling All Dawns, though, something more akin to the former (abstract works of art) is probably more what I'm going for.

Zero 7 has a couple winners. I like The Garden quite a bit; it appeals to the part of me that likes collages, like Rauschenberg's works. I also like the texture of the torn edges of the page; on the whole, I like graphics that carry implied textures and processes: for example, the feeling of cloth and paper, or the sensory act of tearing, stamping, searing, burning, sketching, and drawing. If you look at my Tin Works scoring portfolio and look at the brand that was created for me, the logo is slightly grainy and faded; like it had been applied with a rubber stamp. This was something I was quite insistent about; I wanted something with a strong sense of texture, and a feeling of hand application.

As for the When It Falls art, that appeals to a totally different (and totally inapplicable) pleasure center of my brain; the part of me that likes retro colors and images. Again, totally inapplicable to Calling All Dawns, but still something I enjoy quite a bit.

By far my favorite band growing up was Pink Floyd, and a number of their album covers are Hall Of Fame-worthy:

Again, these were bold, simple images. Not quite the textured works of art that I liked with Radiohead, but still simple, powerful and abstract. The Wall in particular was a teenage favorite; I was ridiculously obsessed with that album, especially the way it (and Dark Side Of The Moon, for that matter) was a musically unified concept album, that started and ended as an infinite loop. I was blown away by this concept, and lo and behold, fifteen years later when I go to release my own debut album, what do I go and do? Make a concept album that starts and ends as an infinite loop. Go figure.

Two of my favorite electronica albums are Verve Remixed 1 and 2:

Seriously cool album covers, but mostly because of the works of art that were created for them, that pretty much encapsulate the essence of the albums: that is, taking old jazz records and remixing them. Absolutely love the concept, but I'm hard pressed to find any similar approach for Calling All Dawns (nor do I plan on making my graphic designer create a sculptural work of art like that).

Finally, my all-time favorite band has two clear winners:

Let It Be is perhaps the only album cover that I like that features the band members. Why? Well, for one it's not one picture of the entire band together, but rather four GREAT portraits of the Fab Four, arranged in a simple, geometric layout. It comes at the end of their career, so it's rather fitting that the four are not shown together in a single frame; but at the same time, it brings a flood of nostalgia, of remembrance of the good times that we all had listening to their music on our old record players. This album cover probably violates the majority of artistic principals I have for the medium; but it just works so well and hits home in the context of the whole Beatles experience, and what it means to me.

And as for The White Album, it's simply beautiful. (The fading on the text is nice, too, though I'm not sure if that was a part of the original.) Simple, clean, and forceful.

Reinventing The Japanese Kokeshi Doll

I was never one to play with dolls, but these little things have been coming up a lot, recently, so I figured it was worth blogging about.

Kokeshi dolls are simple, wooden dolls that date back to 1830s Japan. They were carved out of a single piece of wood, given an elongated shape with exaggerated head and no arms or legs, and painted with various faces and outfits.
Well, gamers out there will notice some similarities between the Kokeshi and the Mii avatars that one creates for the Nintendo Wii. That's because it was revealed by legendary game designer Shigeru Miyamoto (Mario, Zelda, etc.) at last year's Game Developers Conference that the Kokeshi were indeed the inspiration for these customized avatars. Here's the Mii of yours truly.

Coming up this weekend, however, is a very cool modern reinvention of this cultural tradition. Subtext, a gallery in San Diego, has invited 75 contemporary artists to reinterpret the Kokeshi doll. Among them are some of my favorites: there's Audrey Kawasaki, whom I've mentioned before in this blog. There's also Brandi Milne, a similarly art-nouveau-inspired illustrator and artist, whose captivating style blends a lot of the Asian fantasy elements that I love, with a touch of the 70s psychedelia I grew up with (definitely worth checking her out). And there's also Julie West, whom I hadn't heard of until I found out about this show, but whose works evoke in me a sort of cartoon-nostalgia that I can't quite place--I look forward to learning more about her.

Alas, if I lived in San Diego (and if I weren't under so much pressure to finish my album these days!) I would be there in a heartbeat.

John Kurlander Creates The First Ever Hidden Track

This past week I've been having a lot of conversations with John Kurlander, three-time Grammy-winning audio engineer (for his work on The Lord Of The Rings trilogy), former head classical engineer at EMI, and soon-to-be recording engineer on Calling All Dawns. :)
Since I'll be recording the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra at Abbey Road in a month and a half, John was the ideal choice to do the recording. Not only was he head engineer at Abbey Road for a good part of his 40 year career, but he's also recorded the Royal Phil many, many times--in fact, one project that he helped produce, an embarassing 70s classical-meets-disco album called 'Hooked On Classics,' brought the RPO back from impending financial crisis by selling 11 million copies. That's right. 11 MILLION COPIES.
He's got some great stories, since he's worked with everyone imaginable...but his best story comes from the very beginning of his career, when he was second engineer on none other than the original Beatles album 'Abbey Road.' Beatlemaniacs out there already know that the last track on 'Abbey Road,' a little :30 second number called 'Her Majesty,' is the first ever example of a hidden track. Indeed, it comes 14 seconds after the end of the side two medley that starts with 'You Never Give Me Your Money' and ends with 'The End'.


Well, originally 'Her Majesty' was wedged right in the middle of the medley; between 'Mean Mr. Mustard' and 'Polythene Pam.' But one night Paul comes in and listens to a rough mix of the whole medley, and decides that he doesn't like 'Her Majesty.' He tells John to toss it out--but according to EMI policy, John is instructed to save everything....so instead of tossing it, he snips it out, and tapes 14 seconds of blank leader after the end of the medley, and sticks it on the end with a note saying that it's a rejected track, and to ignore it.

However, someone didn't get the memo, and the whole medley--blank leader with rejected song and all--got sent over to EMI. Everyone over there got so used to hearing this little :30 second tag at the end of the medley, that they just decided to keep it there--14 seconds of silence and everything. When the album got printed, the initial pressing neglected to include 'Her Majesty' on the back--and so, the first ever hidden track was born.

And if you listen closely to track, you'll notice that it starts and ends rather oddly....that's because the crude edit done by John (those days you literally spliced the tape with a razor) included the last chord of 'Mean Mr. Mustard' at the very beginning of the song, and the last chord was removed, as it fell underneath the first chord of 'Polythene Pam.'

Good story, right?

Mika Nakashima: Love Addict

I absolutely love this song. It's from a Japanese pop singer named Mika Nakashima--her music runs the stylistic gamut, from dance/club hits to retro 70's-tinged ballads. My personal favorite, though, is the song 'Love Addict.' It's a great jazz number with a rocking hemiola section at 2:21 (that's music-speak for when you have a three-against-two rhythm).



The instrumental at the end is great--trumpet and tenor sax twisting and turning in octaves, with high violins soaring above. Matter of fact, I absolutely love this chart on the whole; great counterpoint, great string writing...whoever did this is brilliant.

(Jazz purists might say that they've heard better charts....and I wouldn't necessarily disagree. I'll be blogging about a genius-friend of mine, Billy Childs, later on...)

I still say, though, that in the context of a bubble-gum J-Pop singer doing a crossover, this track absolutely sizzles.

I've Been Covered!

You know you've made it when the crazy novelty covers of your music start popping up!

Check out this version of Baba Yetu, created by a podcaster named Matt LaGoy , who comes with the tagline "Progressive Banjo For The Postmodern World."

I absolutely LOVE it. It's so wacky, and zany, and madcap....yet works so well. Every eight bars he launches into a new groove; ska, funk, samba...he's all over the place. I totally approve.

Name That Tune

I'm still exhausted from my Galapagos vacation, so today's going to be a bit of an odd post.....but I just came across a YouTube video of some hockey fights that was cut to some music that I LOVE....and I have no idea what it is.

Can anyone identify this? Is it music from Rocky?



I love 70's style rock arrangements.....with the high strings and brass playing counterpoint. Totally dig that.

PS: By the way, I'm a huge hockey fan, in case any of you are wondering how I came across this.

Estrella Morente: Volver

What is there not to like about Penelope Cruz? She's delicious in Almodavar's Volver. But the scene which made me truly fall in love was when she lip-syncs the title song of the film to the voice of flamenco sensation Estrella Morente.



From what I've learned, Estrella Morente is flamenco royalty--her father was Enrique Morente, perhaps one of the most influential contemporary flamenco artists, and perhaps one of the most daring and experimental.

People who know my music know that I'm a big fan of a great melody. The song 'Volver,' which means 'To Return,' is a great tune: it sputters, climbs, lurches, and after a downward melodic tumble, is finally given room to breathe in the chorus on the word 'Volver...' ...before collapsing upon itself again. Then that same melodic phrase comes in a fourth higher, as if it is given new life--again, it spirals achingly upwards (this is where Morente really shines) before descending once again. And in its final breath, it finds itself returning home.

(By the way, from what I understand, all these downward melodic gestures are characteristic of flamenco music on the whole.)

Audrey Kawasaki at Nucleus Gallery

I just got back from a gallery opening of a new favorite artist of mine, Audrey Kawasaki. She's an LA local and relatively young--late twenties, I believe--but already she's turning heads in the art world. She was featured in this past month's Australian issue of Vogue, and her work is in ridiculously high demand. She's definitely a rising star...and you can see for yourself why.

Here's an example of her stunning work. It's entitled 'Mizuame,' and as you can see, it's influenced by Art Nouveau and Japanese manga. But it's so incredibly sensual that it grabs me on a primal level. Most of the time, when I engage with art, I put on my art-history-minor analytical-contextualist hat and grapple with it intellectually. Here, I'm fully cognizant of why it resonates with me (childhood of love of Japanese anime, collegiete love of Art Nouveau and Viennese Secessionism)--yet I love it anyway. The beauty, the eroticism, the ephemerality....simply awesome.

I dragged my friends with me a full two hours before the show opened so that I could be one of the first in line to grab one of the prints she was releasing tonight. I came away with two purchases, which I will post here in due time. I'm sure this won't be the last time I blog about her.

Live At The Avalon: Spinal Tap/The Folksmen

Last night my friend Jessica and I went to the Avalon for a benefit concert for the International Myeloma Foundation--in performance were Michael McKean, Christopher Guest and Harry Shearer, better known as Spinal Tap, and sometimes known as their alter-egos from A Mighty Wind, The Folksmen.

Does For Rock And Roll What The Sound Of Music Did For Hills.

It was, in short, a brilliant night. They opened with 'Hell Hole,' and then spent the next few hours alternating between Folksmen classics like 'Old Joe's Place' and their bluegrass cover of the Stones' 'Start Me Up,' and Tap classics like 'Cups And Cakes.' And yes, they played 'Stonehenge.'

No one knows who they were....or, what they were doing.

Now I for one think their songs are just brilliantly, brilliantly funny. They're chock full of hilarious, sometimes crude lyrics ("Big bottom, big bottom/talk about mudflaps my girl's got 'em") and great send-ups of classic heavy metal clichés. 'Stonehenge' is one big paean to pretentious epic rock numbers like Led Zeppelin's 'Battle Of Evermore'--complete with mandolin solo and everything.

"This pretentious ponderous collection of religious rock psalms is enough to prompt the question, 'What day did the Lord create Spinal Tap, and couldn't he have rested on that day too?"



I'm reminded of my old Royal College of Music professor, Miguel Mera, who used to ask as, "What makes funny music funny?" Spinal Tap is a great example of the answer to that question: music is funny when it takes itself seriously. What musicians find especially funny about these songs is the attention to detail that these three talented musicians have put into the musical arrangements. For example, I love the section at 2:53 when they start climbing on those diminished 7th chords--reminds me of some old Metallica song that I listened to back in junior high ('Call of Cthulu?' 'Master Of Puppets?' Can someone help me here?) Or those little arpeggios in the CS-80-esque synth....they remind me of the synth part in Styx's 'Come Sail Away'.

It's such a fine line between stupid, and clever.

Music that TRIES to be funny, often isn't. For example, turn on Nickolodeon, and listen to the background music of some of their afternoon kids TV shows. It's packed of xylophone glisses, trombone slides, and other orchestral lunacy. And is it funny? To kids, for sure. But let's not forget that kids also find making farting noise with your armpit a comedy goldmine.

I think he's right. There's something about this that is so black. It's like, how much more black could this be? And the answer is none. None more black.

Cornelius: Fit Song

From time to time I discover a great new artist so unique and so unusual that I can't help but share his stuff with everyone I meet.

I got turned onto J-Pop (Japanese pop music, for those who don't know) through the soundtrack to a quirky video game called Katamari Damacy. Through various internet forums, I met a guy in Japan who had great taste in music; and for awhile he was sending me a number of MP3s of these great pop, jazz and electronica musicians who were doing the most amazing material over there. There are too many to go into detail here, but I will mention one artist who has several releases already stateside (and is available on iTunes). His name is Cornelius, and he's on the trendy and tasteful Matador Records.



For those musicians out there, this song's a real delight. First of all, it completely inverts the classic hierarchy of the rock band, where the drums and rhythm section establish the barlines; instead, the vocals mark the bars, and the drums are allowed to float all over the place, only occasionally alighting on a downbeat. The way the drums are played too is extraordinary--really melodic, as opposed to rhythmic.

And for those of you who wonder if the verb 'plays' is really appropriate for an electronica-based artist like this, in the case of Cornelius, the answer is an enthusiastic 'yes.' My writer/director friend Jon Goldman and I caught his live show at the El Rey a couple months back, and we both agreed that it was one of the most impressive concerts we'd ever seen. Not only are all the parts played live by his tight-as-all-hell rock quartet (including hocket-rhythms bouncing back and forth between musicians on stage), but they synchronized their playing to their music videos....without click track, as far as I could tell! Astounding.