Re: Sticky Fingers Cover
Date: October 15, 2008 09:27
from the New York Times, February 9, 2003:
POSSESSED; 1970's New York, On an Album Cover
By DAVID COLMAN
FOR thousands of New Yorkers who grew up far from the metropolitan area, the city was but a fantastic twinkle in the eye. For such youthful would-be cosmopolites, transport here was more readily achieved via tokens of jaded sophistication -- a book like ''The Catcher in the Rye,'' a movie like ''Valley of the Dolls'' -- than by the metal ones issued by the M.T.A.
The designer Michael Kors, growing up relatively nearby in Merrick, on Long Island, remembers plenty of glamorous intimations of New York. But none still unlock those passions like the Rolling Stones album ''Sticky Fingers,'' with a sleeve designed by Andy Warhol. When it was released in April 1971, Mr. Kors, then 11, was about to enter the vertiginous maelstrom of adolescence. The album was an immediate Polaris for him, but not because of its songs, which included the big hit ''Brown Sugar.''
It was the album-as-object. ''It was a Warhol, it was the Stones, it was New York, it was London,'' Mr. Kors said. ''For me, it was all these things coming together: fashion and pop and rock 'n' roll and high society and black culture.''
''Sticky Fingers'' came out at a pivotal time. In early 1971, the band fled England and its taxes for the South of France, and in May, just after the album was released, Mr. Jagger wed Bianca Pérez-Mora Macías in St.-Tropez. In October, their daughter, Jade, was born.
The album's famous cover set a high-water mark for sexual innuendo (with its image of a well articulated, denim-clad male crotch) and inventive design (with a functional zipper set into said crotch and an inner sleeve with said crotch clad in briefs). ''It was sex personified,'' Mr. Kors said.
The Andy Warhol Museum in Pittsburgh has a letter from Mr. Jagger in its archive asking Warhol to design the cover, but it has little other data on the work. An archivist there could not answer the big question about the cover, which won Warhol a Grammy nomination. (No, he didn't win.) Just whose pelvis did Warhol immortalize?
''Of course, I always thought it was Mick Jagger,'' Mr. Kors said. ''I had to wait until the grand old age of 15 to find out it was Joe Dallesandro,'' a reference to the star of Warhol films like ''Flesh'' and ''Trash.''
Not so, said Glenn O'Brien, the writer who was working for the Warhol magazine, Interview. ''Joe wasn't up to it or something, or they wanted someone skinnier.'' Mr. O'Brien said it was he who posed for the inner sleeve photo, in his Carter's briefs. As for the cover star, he said it was Jay Johnson, the decorator, then a model.
''It's not me,'' Mr. Johnson said, pointing the finger at Corey Tippin, a Factory habitué, now a photo stylist living in Bridgeport, Conn. Mr. Tippin said that, yes, the jeans and their contents were his, and he thought, but was not positive, that the inner sleeve was him as well. Both he and Mr. O'Brien were photographed, he said, but in his recollection, ''Glenn O'Brien seemed like he probably wore boxer shorts.''
(''It's my body,'' Mr. O'Brien rejoined. ''I'd know it anywhere.'')
Today, an original copy of the LP sells for about $50 on eBay and makes a more compelling objet than the CD, which doesn't have a real zipper. (A few that do have them look perculiarly out of scale.)
Not that Mr. Kors listens to the album. He doesn't even have a record player. Having lost his first copy years ago, he found a mint copy two years ago at Colony Records on Broadway. ''It's on top of a pile of coffee-table books on a side table,'' he said. ''It's the best coffee-table book in the world.''