35 cover stories in our archive
Behind the Covers' archive includes 35 album covers documented under the "surreal" design theme, spanning the 1960s, 1970s, 1980s, 1990s, 2000s, 2010s, 2020s. These covers sit within the r&b, hip-hop, pop, indie, electronic, alternative, rock, metal, funk, punk, world tradition and feature work by SZA, Lil Nas X, Bad Bunny, Phoebe Bridgers 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.
SZA transforms into a shimmering insect creature for this deluxe reissue cover, shot by Cassidy Meyers. The bug persona originated from her Hot Ones appearance where she quipped about being 'tired of not being a bug.'
Lil Nas X floats nude in this heavenly digital dreamscape shot by Charlotte Rutherford and designed by Pilar Zeta. The psychedelic cover transforms John Stephens' Genesis II artwork into a queer-coded Garden of Eden, sparking the rapper's bold artistic transformation and becoming one of 2021's most talked-about album covers.
A boy pedals a blue BMX straight at you while a car flies through a darkening suburban sky and a house burns behind him. On Bad Bunny's YHLQMDLG cover, look closer: there's a third eye in the middle of his forehead. This is the story of that eye.
At 3 AM in a pitch-black desert, photographer Olof Grind painted the sand red with a flashlight and a gel filter while Phoebe Bridgers stood dead still in a skeleton suit, waiting to be beamed into the sky. The Punisher cover turns a 30-second exposure into a scene of cosmic abduction.
A silhouetted figure in a leather jacket turns his back on the viewer inside a glowing archway, a sword and a skeleton at his feet. The image that fronts Post Malone's Hollywood's Bleeding was made by an artist he was already a fan of, and it looks less like a pop record than a fantasy paperback come to life.
That serene tropical island glowing under a starfield isn't a paradise. It's a mound of ocean trash, and to photograph it Gorillaz built a four-metre model and dropped it into a 50,000-litre water tank. Here's how a beach made of garbage became one of the prettiest sights of 2010.
Radiohead's Kid A wears a range of barbed, snow-blasted peaks with fire pouring from their summits. Stanley Donwood painted those canvases with knives and sticks, and a Kosovo war photo of debris in snow lit the fuse. One late Oxfordshire night, too many cover versions were taped to a fridge until the right one announced itself.
A surreal dream vision of a swimming pool where water becomes sky, creating one of alternative rock's most memorable album covers through a groundbreaking digital collage.
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.
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.
The Prodigy's breakthrough album cover featured a controversial crab design that record stores initially refused to stock. Designer Alex Jenkins created the unsettling crustacean imagery that perfectly matched the band's aggressive electronic sound.
Tool guitarist Adam Jones created one of metal's most disturbing covers by combining stop-motion animation techniques with medical imagery and occult symbolism. The ribcage-like structure opening to reveal organs was inspired by his background in special effects for Hollywood horror films.
A child's face glows red behind a Mason jar clouded with real flies, the band's name embossed backwards in the glass. The image traces back to Jerry Cantrell's third-grade science experiment, and to a photographer whose assistant kept refilling the jar from a horse stable because the flies would not stop dying.
Fans call it the 'Screaming Elf,' but that laughing face burning at the center of Soundgarden's Superunknown is Chris Cornell, flanked by two bandmates whose warped features look like flailing arms. Kevin Westenberg called the whole thing 'one glorious accident.' There was no plan that day, and one member got cropped out entirely.
Nirvana's final studio album features anatomical collages by artist Robert Fisher that Walmart and Kmart refused to stock, forcing the band to create sanitized alternate covers for major retailers while the original became a statement of artistic integrity.
A face half-drowned in flowers and shadow, blurred to the edge of vanishing. The man behind The Cure's Disintegration never meant to be on its cover at all, yet there he is, seeping into the dark. Andy Vella built the whole image from Polaroids, projected and re-photographed until colour itself came apart.
A screaming, distorted face stares out from inside Def Leppard's triangle on 1987's Hysteria. Designer Andie Airfix reworked an entire eagle-lion-shark concept when the album's title changed, then split the art into nine secret panels that assembled into one giant mural.
Rick Rubin phoned a political illustrator who was drawing for the Village Voice and asked him to imagine hell. What Larry Carroll delivered was a three-foot canvas of goat-headed rulers and dangling bodies that Kerry King once dismissed as the work of a 'warped demented freak' before admitting it redefined metal.
The haunting cemetery scene that graces Metallica's thrash masterpiece was shot at dawn in a San Francisco Bay Area graveyard, with designer Don Brautigam creating one of metal's most iconic images of control and manipulation through meticulous attention to the puppet strings stretching across endless white crosses.
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.'
A 40-foot helium pig named Algie floats between the chimneys of Battersea Power Station on Pink Floyd's 1977 cover. During the shoot it broke free, drifted into Heathrow's flight paths and grounded planes before landing in a Kent farmer's field. The image you see is a splice of two different days.
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.
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.
Two businessmen shake hands on a sun-baked studio backlot — and one of them is on fire. Pink Floyd asked Storm Thorgerson how to picture people who hide their true feelings, and he answered: 'Set a man on fire.' A real stuntman, fifteen takes, and a singed moustache later, here's the result.
David Bowie posed as a half-man, half-dog for a 1974 painting so explicit that RCA airbrushed out the creature's genitals. The few uncensored copies that slipped into shops became some of the priciest records ever traded. The twist? The Belgian artist who painted it says Bowie tricked him into the job.
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.
A red, winged, tattooed angel points skyward over a conga drum while a naked dark-skinned Mary sits among flowers and a white dove. Carlos Santana spotted this painting in a magazine and demanded it for his band's 1970 album — and it ended up pinned inside a shaman's hut and a Rastafarian's truck worldwide.
A man charges through a black forest swinging a sword, his pink-and-yellow body smeared into three blurred ghosts. He was supposed to be a War Pig. Then Warner got nervous about Vietnam, the album became Paranoid, and the cover never got the memo.
When Decca wanted The Who's faces on the cover of Tommy, they cut tiny windows into Mike McInnerney's blue diamond-sphere and slipped the band inside. The result: a deaf, dumb and blind boy's world, pressed against the glass of an infinite cage.
A screaming face fills every inch of King Crimson's 1969 debut: terror painted in pink, red and bruised purple. It was the only painting Barry Godber ever made, and he modeled the horror on his own face in a mirror. Months later, at 24, he was dead.
In 1968 Frank Zappa set out to make a photographic negative of Sgt. Pepper: thunderstorm instead of blue sky, dresses instead of uniforms, rotting vegetables instead of flowers. Then the Beatles' label got nervous, the packaging got flipped inside-out, and Jimi Hendrix showed up in person. Behind the lurid crowd lies a lawsuit-shadowed act of sabotage aimed straight at the summer of love.
A fashion photographer borrowed a prism lens from George Harrison, asked a brand-new, unsigned band to wear the brightest clothes they could find, and split their faces into a kaleidoscope. The result became the only Pink Floyd studio album to put the band's own faces on the front. Oh, and he reportedly never got paid.
The Doors are nowhere on their own second album cover. Instead, a strongman, a juggler and a dwarf perform in a Manhattan alley, because Jim Morrison flatly refused to pose. Look closely and the only sign of the band is a tiny poster taped to a brick wall.
Photographer Herb Greene captured Jefferson Airplane in an infrared dreamscape that perfectly matched their psychedelic sound. The otherworldly technique turned the band into ghostly figures floating through a surreal landscape.
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.