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Question: My nomination for laziest album cover ever: Balance by Akrobatik. It seriously looks like he just showed up on set in a Patriots jersey and they said fuck it and took a picture.
Second worst: Relax, Relate, Release by El Da Sensei. You know someone thought, “That’s a cool building, lets take a picture”, and that ended up being the best picture.
Who was the lucky person who got to rub red stuff all over DMX during the photo shoot for Flesh Of My Flesh, Blood Of My Blood? Did he rub it on himself? I imagine the whole thing being some tense/awkward experience.
On the topic of album covers, I imagine the “Dare Iz A Darkside” album cover is what it’s like to go to the beach in New Jersey.
Ok, last one. “Scout’s Honor, By Way of Blood”… What the fuck happened there? Who thought of the clever concept of Rampage being frozen? Why is he frozen? Is it a reference to something? Is he such a cold motherfucker that he died of hypothermia/frost bite? Was he deemed the most important rapper by a race of aliens and cryogenically frozen by them so they could study the art of MCing? We’ll never know…
-JVG, Raleigh
Pen & Pixel gets all the love for insane/amazing 90s album covers but JVG (is that you, coach?) makes the excellent point that the East Coast underground had its fair share of head scratchers.
Late 80s/early 90s album covers, in New York, trended towards awesome candid shots of guys hanging out in the street or on stoops, or in the case of Eric B & Rakim, backed by neon green dollar bill wallpaper. My personal favorite of these is Showbiz & A.G.’s Runaway Slave. There were notable exceptions, Afrika Bambataa’s Flash Gordon and Village People influenced space odyssey, Chuck and Flavor glaring at us from behind bars, KRS-One posing as Malcolm in the window, Ice Cube glaring out angrily, hands clasped in plot, dressed in all black with similarly attired angry young men behind him. But for the most part, the covers reflected the artists in humble settings. Which, if you think about it, makes sense, because much of rap back then was small and personal and based on everyday experience.
The combination of De La Soul, Tribe and Wu-Tang seemed to change a lot. The covers got increasingly elaborate and evocative, as the references and subject matter got increasingly spacey, the album experience got more expansive and literary and the album covers got increasingly eclectic, sometimes yielding hilariously misguided results.
JVG points to what must have been a pair of very bizarre photo shoots for Earl and Reggie, but the most hopelessly clueless and absurd late 90s east coast album cover has to be Cam’ron’s unbelievably pause worthy debut. The cover of Confessions of Fire looks like it was taken on a Jack Horner set. It’s just too perfect. Whoever talked Cam into wearing leather overalls, shirtless, assuming that “come hither” expression…….. I imagine, somewhere, there’s a former art director at Untertainment that no longer has use of his or her legs. How Jay Z did not take a shot at that is utterly beyond me. He could’ve ended Cam’s career with a well timed Summer Jam screen clip.
As for my best covers of all time? There’s the obvious choice. The idea of superimposing a very badass childhood picture of yourself over the housing project you grew up in is kind of undeniable. The Main Ingredient by Pete and CL is hard to beat. A water-marked shot of the two sitting in a small room, cluttered with records, contemplating the next verse, it’s fantastic. The really great response to this trend of cinematic album covers was certain artist’s decisions to go the other way and announce themselves as humble and grounded. I can’t really think of a better example of this idea than The Main Ingredient.
But ultimately, there’s just no beating a city of Brooklyn food coupon card. It conveys so much about what the listener can expect to hear over what will be an ecstatic hour contained within. The idea was brilliant and the picture is amazing.
If you had to assemble a dream team of new artists: One from the south, one from the east, one from the west and one group. Who would you pick?
– Jimmy N, Vancouver
Ironically, I just booked my flight down to New Orleans for the Superbowl in February so this question is perfectly timed. I’m going to alter the parameters of the game somewhat and put together an actual squad, trying to pair the artist with ideal position.
PG- Ab Soul, Los Angeles: I’m a fan of cerebral floor generals. The beauty of watching Chris Paul or Jason Kidd orchestrate an offense is that of watching an intellect assert itself on a court. Therefore Ab-Soul is a no brainer as my 1. Representing the political, philosophical side of TDE, Soul sees creases, overlap and opportunity where others don’t bother looking.
SG- Young Thug, Atlanta: My favorite 2’s are the flame throwers, guys who regularly launch fading, contested 18 footers you hate from the second it leaves their hands until the moment it miraculously falls. Young Thug is all crack smoke and retard strength. I think Gucci’s WW3 drug trilogy was criminally underrated. It was a compulsively listenable, captivating monument to excess, and it was the injection of deranged energy from Thug, PeeWee and Scooter that kept the proceeding from getting bogged down.
SF- Chance the Rapper, Chicago: I’m looking for a dynamic small forward to anchor this unit, a guy who can play the wing, but penetrate when necessary. Chance represents this wave of Chicago Rap’s best hope of not turning into Atlanta in 2006, when a single sound became so monotonously dominant it rapidly reached saturation point and resulted in an entire generation of rappers disappearing. There’s no danger of Chance’s psychedelic palate reaching ubiquity, but I do things he’s destined for bigger things. Acid Rap is funny and heartfelt, without wading into emo waters. His nimble dexterity is the perfect glue for this lineup.
PF- Big Body Bes, Queens: Who better to throw bows and enforce in the paint than Action’s perpetually enraged hype man? When I listen to any number of classic Bes rants, I like to imagine he’s wearing a Reggie Evans jersey.
C- Future, Atlanta: You want a dominant, world destroying colossus? Future casually tosses off the sort of tracks lesser artist would build albums around. (“Chosen One” off the excellent compilation It’s a Southside Track Vol. 3, and “Confused” of Gucci’s aforementioned Drug trilogy) His album has been depressingly pushed until next year but he’s in a rarefied, Moses Malone in 78-like zone right now, demolishing every track he touches and poised to make a big impact on the way this game is played.
Bench: Migos, Atlanta & Flatbush Zombies, Brooklyn: Damn, I didn’t think this list was going to lean so heavily towards the A. But what you need out of a bench is energy and irrational confidence, and both of these outfits have it in spades. The Zombies are drug crazed demons who barely seem to be of this Earth, let alone this borough. Migos made one of the year’s most enjoyable mixtapes, finding ground between Future and Gucci and carving a breathless path in it. Collectively, they make for a deep and terrifying B Unit.
