Judging A Cover By Its Cover: Cornershop “Woman’s Gotta Have It”

December 3, 2008 by John Foster  Send to a Friend

John Foster takes music packaging very seriously. He has deconstructed the design of the recording industry through his personal work and his books, Maximum Page Design (HOW), New Masters of Poster Design (Rockport) and the upcoming For Sale: Innovative Solutions in Packaging Design (HOW) – out now! As well as a monograph of Sub Pop’s Art Director, Jeff Kleinsmith, slated for publication by the label in 2009.

He will be poking and prodding various albums on a weekly basis so please be sure to keep an eye out!

This week’s victims:

Cornershop “Woman’s Gotta Have It”

Is it worth listening to no matter what it looks like? I rarely watch television these days, yet last Sunday I found a slew of NFL games keeping pace in the background. The one constant was a new LeBron James commercial for Nike featuring a familiar (if deep in the discography) tune by Cornershop. Having played a song from their rough first EP (while sort of Djing) a few weeks back - I smiled each time I heard it, thinking of how amazing their musical transformation had been. Following a noisy, and at times sloppy, presentation of the merging of punk and eastern cultures in a time of racial tension and National Front activity in the UK, Cornershop shook away those early bursts and managed to make a giant leap forward by incorporating a new element into the mix that would prove to be the glue – classic funk. While they were on the way to a unique sound already, this catapulted them into an entirely different stratosphere. This will be part one of two, chronicling that transformation both musically and visually.

Self-produced by songwriter/frontman Tjinder Singh, “Woman’s Gotta Have It” starts out with the defining “6 A.M. Jullandar Shere” and things would never be the same. With vocals in distorted Punjabi, over a mix of acoustic drone and Indian tablas, it was a sound never heard before and when the spacey sounds came in at the end and the beat combo drumming joined along, you were certain that you had encountered the soundtrack to a party where you don’t know a soul - yet never want to leave.

“Hong Kong Book of Kung Fu” is more guitar-driven with its stop start playful waggle to counter it’s bitter vocal delivery and “Roof Rack” is a reverb base, cut through by simple lead guitar lines and not much else. “My Dancing Days Are Done” sees guest vocalists Parsley and Sasha Andres practically croon a conversation over a clatter of percussion and sitars. “Call All Destroyer” comes on as lofi and then only increases the fidelity enough to get across the rudimentary punk burn and is the closest thing to their earlier work, yet somehow feels right at home. “Camp Orange” marries a martial beat to funky percussion and a trippy hum to carry the light melody into an almost tribal delivery as the beat gets paid down with more force.

“Wog” shakes a classic funk shimmy off to return with a joyous handclap and chorus highlighted by bright and snaking acoustic lines. Singh’s frank lyrics of self analysis start to take hold here in a more positive manner, putting aside his bitterness in early rants, even if it is far from sedate or happy. Singing against his own vocal track in a distorted distance, and then stuttering out, it creates an uneasiness to counter the blissful backing. “Jansimram King” intros with a fat funk guitar figure as the hihat rides in Singh before a full on distorted workout takes hold and then gives way, only to return, and one can see the band using this time to shake it out on stage - even if it adds little to the record. “Looking For A Way In” has one of the band’s best riffs and adds in country leads intertwined with the percussive stomp and funk dampened rhythm playing.

“7:20 A.M. Jullander Shere” signals a return to the beginning, but more so just the sleepy ending to the party, as the last third is a disco beat behind Singh’s distorted mellow crackle and light funk guitar and keys mingling with ruminating sitar swirls to send you off into the dawn.

Credit: “Design & Art Direction: Deborah Norcross, Front Cover Photography: Cati Gonzales, Inside Photography: Deborah Norcross.”

Any signs of creative interference in the design process by the artist? Certainly some input but Norcross was an in-house Art Director at Warner Bros at the time and had been around the block (including working on Guns and Roses “Appetite For Destruction” as well as “Lies”) and would have had a good deal of control.

Does the look fit the sound? This begins the idealization of women in their packaging with a 60’s style olive skinned pinup crossing her legs in sex kitten fashion. Adorned with a flowered patterned dress whose color scheme matches the tones carried throughout the package. This soft lighting and hues remains consistent whether viewing Gonzales or Norcross’s photography. The subject matter, from model to beauty products, that are photographed come with a 60s aesthetic. The cover layout mimics the discs of singers of the time with it’s catalog number, but adds a modern take on typography of the era with a flowing, yet tight, solution. However, the design doesn’t hold to that feel once you move past the cover and even incorporates roughened type on the interior.

The beauty product photos are also softly blended on the interior, yet split up with a hard grid on the back tray and overlaid with an orange target. The cover features lots of little bits of white grit to give an aged feel that isn’t picked up anywhere else??? It’s the inconsistencies that make me crazy as they are completely unnecessary but only serve as a sign of an unfocused final piece. I love that Norcross goes to the effort to take her own photography to round out the package but a big part of me thinks she didn’t see this as a particularly important or rewarding project on her plate at the time. Not long after this, she would have a blow up over the design for Me’shell Ndegeocello’s “Peace Beyond Passion” with the singer’s management and have to scrap an intensive design featuring a lot of her own portraits of Ndegeocello and departed the label soon after. For Cornershop, where the music has finally found a tight resolution, the design seems a step behind. Would it be able to catch up as the band reached out further?

While the overall feel is nice enough, I am also not sold on the 60s reference. While you can see some influence, especially in the funk coloring the songs, the music is such a fresh mix of cultures that you wonder about the impact if it had been given an entirely modern approach. I know Singh’s personal tastes run this gamut but it doesn’t mean that blanketing his music with it helps.

One area that does make a big difference is in using an orange plastic tray to tie everything together. It’s a little more expensive per package for the label but is truly a nice touch. However, the label design uses the Luaka Bop logo and distorts it to varying degrees with no purpose what so ever. A simple orange disc would have been far more effective.

The group was clearly on a rocketship to unbridled creativity – would the design catch up? Stay tuned.

Final score (out of 10): 6.0 design, 8.5 for the music 

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