33 cover stories in our archive
Behind the Covers' archive includes 33 album covers documented under the "illustration" design theme, spanning the 1950s, 1960s, 1970s, 1980s, 1990s, 2000s, 2010s, 2020s. These covers sit within the country, reggae, rock, metal, alternative, punk, hip-hop, electronic, jazz, pop, indie, funk, r&b, soul tradition and feature work by Morgan Wallen, Jimmy Cliff, Boston, Led Zeppelin and others. Each entry below includes the cover artwork, the designers and photographers behind it, and a short story about the visual choices that defined the release.
Sitting in his lawyer's office on the way to court, Morgan Wallen glanced at the old courtroom sketches on the wall and something clicked. The cover of I'm the Problem turns that legal chapter into art: a profile drawn in the very style that captures defendants, not pop stars.
The iconic album cover for this reggae soundtrack featured artwork by John Bryant and sleeve design by London's CCS Associates. Bryant's vibrant illustration depicts Jimmy Cliff with dual pistols, using hand-drawn typography rendered in Bottleneck typeface with colorful gradients.
Before the guitar-spaceships, an album cover team seriously pitched Boston lettuce, Boston cream pie, and a pot of baked beans. What won instead was a fleet of upside-down guitars escaping a dying Earth, an optical illusion millions never caught until Reddit lost its mind decades later.
George Hardie transformed Sam Shere's iconic 1937 Hindenburg disaster photograph into a haunting stipple illustration using a technical pen, creating one of rock's most powerful visual statements for just £60.
Klaus Voormann's revolutionary black-and-white collage combines pen-and-ink drawings with photographs, using the Beatles' flowing hair to create a psychedelic masterpiece that won the first Grammy Award for rock album artwork in 1967.
Alan Aldridge's airbrush masterpiece drew inspiration from Hieronymus Bosch's Garden of Earthly Delights. Created with Harry Willock, the psychedelic artwork surrounds Elton John with mythical creatures in vivid detail.
The iconic cyclone-like design with a spark plug center was drawn by Big Chief guitarist Mark Dancey after a casual backstage invitation from Soundgarden members Kim Thayil and Matt Cameron in 1991.
The red star glaring out of a field of stars almost cost Rush their record deal. Mercury nearly dropped the band, granted one last album, and got the one that saved them. Here's how Hugh Syme and Neil Peart turned a pentagram and a naked man into rock's most recognizable accidental logo.
A man in platform heels steps off a cracked brick wall and into a torn poster of Oz. Ian Beck built the whole scene up in pencil before slowly adding color, signing it in the corner. The road he walks won him the job, and it started with an Irish folk singer's record sleeve.
Thane Kerner's abstract illustration for Dave Matthews Band's breakthrough sophomore album has become synonymous with the band's visual identity. The enigmatic cover features flowing organic forms in muted earth tones, complemented by C. Taylor Crothers' band photography.
East Bay artist Richie Bucher created this chaos-filled cartoon depicting dogs and monkeys flinging excrement from Berkeley rooftops, working only from the album title and his childhood associations with the word 'dookie.'
A heraldic crest floats on pure white: two golden lions, a phoenix with outstretched wings, a flaming crab and two fairies guarding a crowned letter Q. It looks like royalty, but every creature on it is a hidden horoscope. Freddie Mercury, art-college trained, drew the band's zodiac into a coat of arms.
A giant robot holds the band members' bloodied bodies in this shocking cover adapted from a 1953 sci-fi magazine illustration. The artist who painted it had no idea it would become one of rock's most disturbing album covers.
A Tribe Called Quest transformed their album cover into an interactive experience by hiding over 70 hip-hop luminaries in a burgundy crowd illustration that fans are still discovering today.
Air's dreamy debut featured a mysterious retro-futuristic cover that perfectly captured the album's space-age bachelor pad aesthetic. The vintage-style illustration became an instant icon of late 90s electronic music design.
Kanye West's mascot bear was born from designer Eric Johnson's interpretation of the dropout theme, creating one of hip-hop's most endearing and merchandisable visual identities through simple cartoon illustration.
Jack White drew inspiration from a 1960s circus poster to create one of rock's most playful covers. The vibrant red and pink elephant against stark white background perfectly captured the band's theatrical garage rock aesthetic while maintaining their strict three-color palette.
Chicago artist Damon Locks illustrated the cover using Trojan War imagery, centered around the iconic Trojan Horse. Layout designer Jason Farrell arranged the visual elements. The concept was based on vague band descriptions of espionage and chaos.
The cross of skulls you know was never the first choice. Guns N' Roses wanted a robot rapist on the front of their debut, until America's record stores said no. The replacement began as a tattoo on Axl Rose's right arm.
Frank Sinatra stands alone under blue streetlight, cigarette burning, fedora pushed back in resignation. Painted to mirror an album about loneliness and lost love, this 1955 cover plays like a film noir poster, and it would resurface decades later in Vanilla Sky, in a syringe-wielding parody, and in Kurt Elling's careful re-pose.
Four cartoon faces, four panels, one quiet nod to the Beatles. Gorillaz's Demon Days hides a hand-drawn world in a state of night behind a grid that looks deceptively simple. The artist behind it would soon be named Designer of the Year.
A Columbia producer heard it and snapped, 'It's a piece of shit! It's not produced.' Recorded cheap in a Garland, Texas studio with barely more than guitar, piano, and drums, Willie Nelson's spare murder-ballad concept album turned a dismissed 'demo' into the record that made him a superstar.
Artist Divya Srinivasan created the intricate illustrated cover depicting Illinois themes including Lincoln, Al Capone, the Sears Tower, and originally Superman—until copyright concerns led to multiple versions with balloons and eventually an empty sky.
A heartbroken cartoon heart with one swollen eye stands alone on a golden dune while dolphins leap over a candy-pink sky. It became the year's best-selling album. The strange, tender story of how Bad Bunny's drawing turned into Un Verano Sin Ti.
A keyboardist asked for something as classy as a chocolate box. What he got was a beam of white light splitting into a rainbow against pure black, a design pulled from a 1963 physics textbook that would end up on more T-shirts than almost any image in rock. Here's how Pink Floyd's prism came to be.
Robert Beatty's abstract image of swirling liquid in vivid colors visualizes the album's theme of overwhelming change — something solid becoming liquid, a form dissolving and reforming as something new. Not chaos, but metamorphosis.
An explosion of day-glo color — peace signs, daisies, Pop Art graphics — was a visual manifesto for the D.A.I.S.Y. Age, declaring that hip-hop could be playful, conscious, and joyful in an era dominated by images of urban toughness.
Chris Bilheimer's surreal illustration of a couple floating above the sea with a drum replacing one figure's head — inspired by a vintage postcard — connects to the album's hallucinatory exploration of Anne Frank, innocence, and historical trauma.
A phone call relayed André 3000's request to a Columbus painter, who got two or three days to turn OutKast's music into a 1970s funk fantasy. The result, with its hovering mothership and gold Egyptian medallion, reached millions and became one of the most celebrated Black album covers in hip hop.
The warm, sepia-toned cover resembles a wood carving or desk etching, referencing Carter G. Woodson's 1933 book 'The Mis-Education of the Negro' — a deliberate statement about authenticity and substance in late-1990s pop and hip-hop.
A single yellow banana on white, with an instruction to peel it. Andy Warhol's design for The Velvet Underground's 1967 debut sold poorly, sparked lawsuits decades later, and was once called the best album cover ever made.
George Clinton called Pedro Bell an 'urban Hieronymus Bosch' who 'inverted psychedelia through the ghetto.' On Funkadelic's biggest album, Bell didn't just draw a cover — he built the visual myth of P-Funk itself, signing on as an 'electric marker heathen of speedomatic dabblings.'
It looks like an X-ray of something that shouldn't exist: a curled human foetus with wings, glowing white against deep navy. The truth behind it is even stranger. One Icelandic artist drew the whole thing with a single Bic ballpoint pen, then flipped it into light.