{shortcode-121818378772f71635727c9b61256134ebb18a80}

We listen to music, but sometimes we look at it too. Album cover art is an essential part of the listening experience, although it is often overlooked. No longer! Here are some of The Crimson’s Arts Board’s favorite album covers, including some reflections on the music inside.

‘Clouds’ by Joni Mitchell

It’s the late 1960s, and singer-songwriter — and visual artist — Joni Mitchell has found widespread popularity for her music along with the most efficient means of distributing her lesser-known works of visual art: her album covers. As her music tunnels through American culture, the masses are also handling her artwork. Millions of copies are sold, shared, lauded, and critiqued, all printed on the flimsy cardboard casings of her music.

It was in this context that Mitchell’s self-portrait took up position as a sentinel stationed with an unwavering gaze on the cover of her 1969 album, “Clouds.” Yet the artist’s frontal stare, framed by her signature wispy blonde hair and bangs set against her hometown of Saskatoon, isn’t directed at the viewer at all. Much like the songs encoded in vinyl within, it’s a reflected average of her self-observations constructed from Mitchell’s scrutiny of herself in a mirror over the course of several weeks.

From the double edges of life juxtaposed in “Both Sides Now” to the sunshiney tune of “Chelsea Morning,” the raw introspection of “Clouds” is anticipated first in its cover portrait — but only once Mitchell’s original vinyl listeners had been initiated as viewers could they unfold the album’s self-portrait in song. And once they did, they’d find that her music and her art aren’t so distinct, after all: Joni Mitchell’s guitar strings and sailing vocals reverberate with all the vibrance of cadmium red and cobalt violet in her painting.

—Staff writer Marin E. Gray can be reached at marin.gray@thecrimson.com.

“Punisher” by Phoebe Bridgers

When I think of Phoebe Bridgers, I immediately think of the “Punisher” album cover. To have a cover so synonymous with one’s personhood and career represents the extent to which Bridgers encapsulates her album and herself in a single square. The silhouette of the Trona Pinnacles on the outskirts of Death Valley evokes the otherworldly essence of Bridgers’ tracks on the albums, as she voices feelings of hope, adriftness, and existential dread. The apocalyptic, hellish wasteland mirrors the cacophonic screams at the end of “I Know The End” and the deep future dread which accompanies much of Bridgers’ discography. Yet, what makes the cover the most memorable is not the intricate composition of the photo, but Bridgers herself. Standing in her trademark skeleton costume with her face turned up towards the constellations in the dark night sky, she asks the viewer to pause and think about the importance of their own vulnerability in such a beautifully overwhelming world.

—Staff Writer Hannah M. Wilkoff can be reached at hannah.wilkoff@thecrimson.com.

“Prelude to Ecstasy” by The Last Dinner Party

From the marble mantle to the costuming in the portrait hung above it, the “Prelude to Ecstasy” album cover epitomizes the unique experience listeners of The Last Dinner Party love. “Prelude to Ecstasy” is the band’s debut album and its cover reflects their unique, indie-rock sound reminiscent of bands like Arctic Monkeys, Marina and the Diamonds, and Florence and the Machine. The mantle holds greenery, flowers, candles, and a massive baroque-esque portrait featuring corsets, long skirts, and a chaise lounge hidden by stylized poses — all of which scream tradition. Yet, the tarot card, palm reading guide, and crystal add a modern edge that listeners love. The muted color scheme with pops of complimentary green and red make the cover enjoyable yet interesting to look at, mirroring the intriguing yet easy-to-listen-to music of The Last Dinner Party.

—Staff writer Madelyn E. McKenzie can be reached at madelyn.mckenzie@thecrimson.com.

“Eat a Peach” by the Allman Brothers Band

I was raised by “Eat a Peach.” On dreary Maine winter mornings, my dad would pop his well-loved Allman Brothers CD into our pickup truck’s stereo. My sleepy gaze would land on the tiny image of a truck carrying a comically large peach across a blue-skied road, and for a few minutes, I wasn’t in a winter landscape — I was in Georgia.

The music of the Allman Brothers Band, a 70s rock group based in Mason, Georgia, has an uncanny ability to transport you to the South, but the album cover of “Eat a Peach” takes this to the next level. The central illustration of the album was lifted from a Georgia postcard. Behind this, a wash of baby blues and pinks, reminiscent of winter sunrises, feels like a synesthesia-generated visualization of listening to the album. The simple album cover opens to reveal an inner gatefold inspired by psychedelic imagery, children’s fantasy illustrations, and the complex landscapes of Hieronymous Bosch.

The artwork of “Eat a Peach” fits right in with the band’s breezy and comforting sound while gesturing at the Allman Brothers’ diverse inspirations. Beyond this, the iconic record art echoes the words of Duane Allman, one of the band’s founding brothers. Duane passed away before “Eat a Peach” was created, but said, “Every time I’m in Georgia, I eat a peach for peace.” Every time I look at “Eat a Peach,” I am transported to my own pocket of peace — my childhood, my favorite memories, my version of Georgia.

—Staff writer Hannah E. Gadway can be reached at hannah.gadway@thecrimson.com.

“What’s Going On” by Marvin Gaye

What is an album without its cover? Incomplete. That’s exactly what Marvin Gaye’s “What’s Going On” album would be rendered without its iconic cover. The imagery, while so simple, perfectly encapsulates the album’s message and story. Photographed in the backyard of his Detroit home, Gaye stands tall and proud, reflecting his steadfast efforts to release the politically charged album that his manager Berry Gordy opposed. Gaye pensively looks out in the distance, appearing to reflect on the state of the world; with a slight smile, he seems to be thinking of a better Earth — one where the children of today can thrive tomorrow. The sleek black coat Gaye dons is sprinkled with water droplets and shields him from snowfall, mirroring his existence in the coldness of the modern world he articulates throughout the album.

So simple, so symbolic, so iconic. Go ahead, try to name a better album cover. I’ll wait.

—Rose M. Jewell