Most of us who collect music are doing so for the artifact just as much as the music embedded on it. We have our weakness: 10-inches, tour-only releases, colored vinyl, silkscreened covers, slim-line mixtapes. And all of us who regularly browse record stores will pick out records that we've never heard of simply because the cover catches our attention. Whether we actually buy those records depends on exactly how striking the cover is in proportion to our forever vulnerable music budget. But sometimes you come across something so incredible you have to buy it, because it's just that brilliant.
Mom's Apple Pie is one of those records. You might have seen it if you ever flip through books of record covers, or you might just have heard it brought up as an example of the long and storied history of record cover censorship. There have been a couple examples in recent times, but DC Comics' beef with Sufjan is pretty tame compared to the, ahem, balls it took to release Mom's Apple Pie. It's a shame the cover pictures here at TMT are so small, go to the DeLorean page for a slightly larger version, or better yet go here for a nearly full-size version. At first glance it's a homely, American Gothic style painting of a rather skanky-looking Mom holding out a freshly baked pie. Look closer and you'll see in the pie an unmistakably detailed vagina, oozing invitingly/disgustingly. In the background are speakers stacked as tall as the grandfather clock. Flip the record over and there are headshots of the ten shaggy-haired bandmembers, no fewer than three named Bob. Even the dust sleeve is a part of the package: a brown paper bag (check the record label).
So when I got to the actual record I was kind of disappointed to hear completely innocuous early '70s boogie-rock. Leading off with Willie Dixon's evergreen "I Just Wanna Make Love To You," the album runs through eight variations on brassy, bottom-heavy stadium rock with those pinched harmonies that were somehow all the rage in '70s dude-rock. Little surprise then to learn that the guy who broke Grand Funk Railroad before getting acrimoniously sacked as their manager is the force behind Mom's Apple Pie. Unfortunately, they largely lack distinctive arrangements or any sort of catchy hooks, the kind of thing you need to get through to the people way back in the bleachers. With nothing else to make them stand out from the rest of the crowd, an outrageous cover was all that Mom's Apple Pie had to get noticed. And apparently not even that worked.
Will I ever listen to Mom's Apple Pie again? Probably not. "Mr. Skin" has some nice chug to it, but that's about it. I'll always get a kick out of this record though, if only for a chuckle at the expense of the ten goofy guys on the back cover, who look like they never actually got any of what's on the front cover.
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