We’re all fairly familiar with recycling these days, and for older people it must seem strange to witness this fervour for carefully sorting and dumping different types of material, as it was second nature to most people especially during the war years (and I’m old enough to recall a time when most glass bottles had a deposit value). Yet while I was familiar with the scrap metal and paper drives during the war, I’d not heard of record recycling being actively encouraged. This sticker encouraging people to hand in their unwanted 78s turned up on a very beaten up sleeve recently. It implies that the scheme was funded by the Gramophone Companies to address the shortage of raw materials during the war years and designed to get at the raw shellac and enable new titles to be pressed.
It’s a fab little sticker, seemingly printed by Rushworth’s, one of the best known of Liverpool’s music shops. But similar schemes operated all over, with one Canadian collector owning a sleeve which offers customers between 5 and 8 cents a discs salvage value.
“Future supplies depend on YOU.”
Anyway, I did a bit of hunting around and found this Pathe news short on the subject of recycling records (or record salvage as it was called then), which has some amazing scenes in it. Somehow as we all try and do our bit to keep record shops going it (Record Store Day is April 18th this year) seemed appropriate!
Record Store Day 2013
Another vinyl shop offering two fingers to the take-over of their street by East European food retailers and tax diddling coffee shop chains, this time in King’s Lynn, Norfolk.
Apologies for lack of updates for a few weeks; the LCD display on my DSLR went and it’s taken me some time to source a replacement part (the makers all want you to return to base) and find out how to fit it. All working again! Time to test it out on these two recent finds.
For many people there is only one white sleeve design, but every so often other foolhardy designers have a go. Lacking laminate, many get quickly damaged and marked, but here are two that have been looked after and which work for me.
Hospital Records / 12″
Formed in 1996, Hospital (which began as a drum and bass outlet but then branched out) seem to have used this generic sleeve for a number of their non – printed single releases. The basic white cover, which is reversed so the rough side faces out, has the label’s logo pre-cut into the card, ready to be punched out and show the label design through. Happily whoever owned this example resisted the temptation! Design credits not known (I did ask, they didn’t answer). Label still going strong.
Fat Cat Records / 12″
While there are some interesting sleeves on this label’s website, they seem to leave their history to the uncertain realms of wikipedia for some reason. Formed in 1989 and still active (with connections to One Little Indian).
While it’s always nice to have a sleeve, sometimes the economics or lack of time rule it out, so here the label has gone for the minimalist approach, and just rubber stamped the basic disc information on the (again reverse surface card) sleeve. This particular release is from 1997. There is some sort of irony in the design, as it goes right back to the 1920s when many shops bought blank 78 rpm sleeves and over stamped them with their shop name to save money.
While “Joan and Ted” might not mean so much to us today, when this album was issued in 1961 (in glorious mono) both singers were so well known that surnames were simply not necessary. Popular singer Joan Regan was named one of the top ten beauties of 1956 by society photographer Baron in 1956 while Edmund Hockridge was well known via starring roles in many West End musicals. By 1961 however Joan Regan’s most successful period of hits was over, and this album of solo tracks and duets on Pye (who had signed Hockridge in 1956) was something of a last hurrah. The pair had toured on a package bill the previous year, which may have inspired the idea of teaming them up.
The sleeve photo is a real period piece, with Joan somewhat theatrically inviting singer Edmund (who has happened by in his pale blue Mk 2 Jaguar) into her pink rendered 1920s country house. It was called Felix Manor; a little sign with a black cat on it hangs above the porch, a wisteria climbs up the side of the main entrance way and onto the wooden balcony which runs round the side of the property. It’s a great looking house, just the sort of thing a successful musician of the time would aspire to.
The building was sited on what is now Old Perry Street in the London suburb of Chislehurst, countryfied but handy for getting to and from central London some ten miles away. I’m not sure how long Joan lived there; she married theatre manager Harry Claff in 1957 so perhaps they moved in not long after. It was a difficult relationship and after he was jailed for fraud in 1963 she suffered a breakdown, after which they divorced. She moved to America soon after.
It looks as if the house was built on the site of Victorian estate lands, but sadly due to huge pressure on available land in the area it has been demolished in recent years and replaced by a non-descript cluster of dull properties; just the original gate posts survive.
The cover’s yellow typeface is the ever popular Mistral, a useful casual style from 1953 (designed by Frenchman Roger Excoffon, and based on his own handwriting). It’s one of those fonts which can seem dated if used badly (and that’s clearly the case here) but works well in the right place. NWA used it for their album logo in the late eighties, and it crops up on lots more sleeves. The sleeve design and photography remain uncredited.
Thanks to Joanna Friel, at the Chislehurst Society. A good article on the designer of Mistral in Eye Magazine. http://www.eyemagazine.com/feature/article/mr-mistral
Yuletide Disco • Released by Pickwick in North America in 1979, this might have had more shelf impact if you’d been able to see the cover photo. Or not. The poor (and poorly lit) woman is wearing a pair of black boots, red tights and … a large roll of tinsel. This is wrapped around her to make a strange shapeless one-piece tinsel outfit. She then moves across the front of the camera for a multiple exposure image, getting further into the shadow as she does so. The photographer was David A. Jonasson (we all have off days!), who did a handful of sleeve photos for Pickwick around this time (I’ve cheated and lightened the sleeve a little so you can see more detail!). The art director was Meredythe Jones Rossi, who oversaw a number of sleeves for them and related budget labels in 79 / 80.
The “music” was performed by a bunch of session players under the name of Mirror Image. The album does spot a quite snazzy Pickwick bag which is very much of the time, all flowing lines based on the typeface of the letter P from their logo.
More Pickwick covers on the site. More Christmas sleeves on the site.
A small collection of sleeves designed to try and capture impulse Christmas buys in the 50s and 60s. My favourite is this promo only German promotional album, which had push out postcards on the inner gatefold. Click here to read more about this and see the other covers.
Three glossy art director driven photo shoots decorated these Deep Purple compilations, showing that budget spend even on reissue albums was rarely stinted!
Posted in Sleeve Designers, Sleeve Galleries
Tagged 1970s, album sleeve, David Dragon, Deep Purple, EMI, Harvest, Peter Vernon, sexy girl, sleeve design, vinyl
An interesting 1980 Jeff Beck cover, with early grunge type and a famous art director.
An interesting (well I thought so!) vintage Columbia records shipping box found recently. Will anyone be chasing down early Amazon shipping boxes in 80 years time?
Two better than usual American sleeves from the busy Pickwick budget label found and blogged.