Storm Thorgerson, who has died aged 69, was responsible for the design of so many classic album sleeves, it's almost unfair. His company was 'Hipgnosis' and rather than dominate the age of iconic record artwork (the late 1960s to the late 1970s), his team invented it.
Of course, it's impossible to discuss Storm Thorgerson without mentioning Pink Floyd. Although Hipgnosis created artwork for dozens of bands (including The Cranberries and The Scorpions), in Floyd the designer found his muse. Once Syd Barrett's mental instability cost the band their mystical front man (and largely as response to his collapse), Pink Floyd embarked on a series of intense, long-form, psychologically explorative sets. Whimsy was replaced by alienation, albatrosses by lunatics. This thematic gear-change immediately invited the unsettlingly abstract creativity which immortalised Storm and Hipgnosis. From the light-splitting prism, standing alone in black space on the jacket of 'Dark Side Of The Moon', to the burning man doing a deal and introducing 'Wish You Were Here', it's very hard to imagine these albums represented by designs other than Storm's, so perfectly do they complement the music within.
I'm also a huge admirer of Thorgerson's work for Led Zeppelin. At their height, the band were fully immersed in Norse mythology and Tolkien fantasies. So one might fairly expect their mid-70s albums to be adorned with pixies, wizards, knights and Vikings. Fortunately for Zeppelin, Hipgnosis were on hand to save them from any Spinal Tap embarrassment. 'Houses Of The Holy' (as usual, no title, no band name) brings us a tableau of children, scaling the unnaturally uniform shapes of The Giant's Causeway in a design which certainly wouldn't be accepted today - the children are noticeably naked.
And then there's 'Presence' - for me, one of Storm's strongest pieces. I hardly need tell you the band are nowhere to be seen. Instead, we're offered portraits, borrowed from 1950s advertising spreads, where nuclear families gaze affectionately at all-American household products. Only here, an oddly two dimensional, pitch-black, abstract statuette replaces the groceries. This is a concept which could, or should, come across as massively pretentious, but it doesn't. It fascinates, worries and yes, hypnotizes. Without doubt he's making a comment on consumerism and the passivity of the public, but Thorgerson leaves the bulk of the interpretation to the viewer. It's an outstanding work of irrefutably great art.
He founded his studio with Aubrey (Po) Powell, in 1970 having come to a realisation so obvious it had been largely overlooked: that 12 inches of double sided cardboard make a perfect canvas.
Sure, records had sleeves in the decades before Hipgnosis. And those sleeves had pictures and words on them. The psych-typography of the mid-60s had dipped a toe in the waters of intriguing imagery, but those sleeves always carried the artists' handle and were actually cruder than we imagine. Before Storm and his collaborators, the primary purpose of an album's outer envelope was to tell the punter what they were buying. This was never a priority for Thorgerson - indeed, much of his best work actually defies and excludes the title of the LP and name of the band. Quite a handy device if you wish to bestow an aloof kudos on your audience.
It has been argued that Storm brought the technical detail and graphic artistry of the advertising industry to records. That isn't quite accurate. Where advertising usually makes a virtue of brand recognition, using commercial art to announce products and services, the work of the Hipgnosis studio is often wilfully obscure, only becoming recognisable when the music itself became adopted and widely known.
Of course, it's impossible to discuss Storm Thorgerson without mentioning Pink Floyd. Although Hipgnosis created artwork for dozens of bands (including The Cranberries and The Scorpions), in Floyd the designer found his muse. Once Syd Barrett's mental instability cost the band their mystical front man (and largely as response to his collapse), Pink Floyd embarked on a series of intense, long-form, psychologically explorative sets. Whimsy was replaced by alienation, albatrosses by lunatics. This thematic gear-change immediately invited the unsettlingly abstract creativity which immortalised Storm and Hipgnosis. From the light-splitting prism, standing alone in black space on the jacket of 'Dark Side Of The Moon', to the burning man doing a deal and introducing 'Wish You Were Here', it's very hard to imagine these albums represented by designs other than Storm's, so perfectly do they complement the music within.
I'm also a huge admirer of Thorgerson's work for Led Zeppelin. At their height, the band were fully immersed in Norse mythology and Tolkien fantasies. So one might fairly expect their mid-70s albums to be adorned with pixies, wizards, knights and Vikings. Fortunately for Zeppelin, Hipgnosis were on hand to save them from any Spinal Tap embarrassment. 'Houses Of The Holy' (as usual, no title, no band name) brings us a tableau of children, scaling the unnaturally uniform shapes of The Giant's Causeway in a design which certainly wouldn't be accepted today - the children are noticeably naked.
And then there's 'Presence' - for me, one of Storm's strongest pieces. I hardly need tell you the band are nowhere to be seen. Instead, we're offered portraits, borrowed from 1950s advertising spreads, where nuclear families gaze affectionately at all-American household products. Only here, an oddly two dimensional, pitch-black, abstract statuette replaces the groceries. This is a concept which could, or should, come across as massively pretentious, but it doesn't. It fascinates, worries and yes, hypnotizes. Without doubt he's making a comment on consumerism and the passivity of the public, but Thorgerson leaves the bulk of the interpretation to the viewer. It's an outstanding work of irrefutably great art.
And that's before you've put the record on.
There is so much imagination, innovation, wit and intelligence in the Hipgnosis portfolio, I couldn't possibly catalogue everything here. But I must at least acknowledge the queasy strength of the singer's melting face on 'Peter Gabriel 3', the field of half-buried teddy bears for Muse, Floyd's inflatable pig over Battersea Power Station and 10cc's sinister diver, carrying the model from the sea.
For a man who contributed so much to the music business, it's surprisingly easy to sum up his accomplishment. Storm Thorgerson simply made record covers as compelling as the music they protected. Sometimes more so.
Mister Thorgerson, we wish you were here.
There is so much imagination, innovation, wit and intelligence in the Hipgnosis portfolio, I couldn't possibly catalogue everything here. But I must at least acknowledge the queasy strength of the singer's melting face on 'Peter Gabriel 3', the field of half-buried teddy bears for Muse, Floyd's inflatable pig over Battersea Power Station and 10cc's sinister diver, carrying the model from the sea.
For a man who contributed so much to the music business, it's surprisingly easy to sum up his accomplishment. Storm Thorgerson simply made record covers as compelling as the music they protected. Sometimes more so.
Mister Thorgerson, we wish you were here.
