Worst Album Covers Ever Part 1

There's a good reason aliens haven't visited our planet since Roswell. 

It's our album covers from the 60's and 70's.  They took one look and realized that Earth (much like the sloth exhibit at your local  zoo) wasn't worth the time.  I present to you a rogue's gallery of some of the most heinous art work to ever appear on an album jacket.  Below you'll find the first to make the worst ever charts.  

Ladies and gents, please give it up for the Christian Crusaders with Al Davis. This is an glaring example of one of churches' biggest problems --  the ubiquitous coffee and doughnut hour after the service. One of these singers obviously has found a friend in the glazed cruller. Oh, you can feel the photographers pain -- how do I balance this photo out -- looks like Al = three of the other crusaders.  I am, however, concerned for the trim woman in the middle. Al just may get hunger pangs during a concert. 

Now, let's turn our attention to Geraldine and Ricky. Apparently a clone of Priscilla Presley is singing duets with a ventriloquist's dummy called Ricky. Quite possibly, the dummy is Geraldine and Ricky, the singer. 

The album is called Trees Talk Too!  (if it wasn't for the exclamation point, I wouldn't have been as excited to plunk down my money for this dynamic duo.)   The album did well but when it came to live concerts, Ricky pulled a Brian Wilson and didn't sing.  He retired and is now somewhere in a cord of firewood.

Now for our third entrant. I always wondered what happened to the thousands of cinnamon-colored round collared outfits that Woolworth was dumping circa 1973. Apparently, the Country Chuch members must don these nausea inducing vests and wear  pants that resemble some bad drapes.  This group bought up the last remaining grey "one size fits all but the chubby on the right" turtleneck sweaters.  Not even group prayer can help these guys grow decent moustaches.

And the poor woman not only has to put up with having one singer pawing her neck, she is forced to  wearing her grandmother's hand-me-downs. 



Another entry is a wonderfully uplifting album called "All My Friends are Dead."  Frankly, I think they died of embarrassment when Freddie "Kruger" Gage showed up wearing white cheer leading boots and a matching shirt and tie.  It's well, Cemetery Chic.

Finally, we have our last contestant.  It's the fabulous Braillettes.  Talk about Darwin's waiting room.  I feel bad for the middle sister who has inherited what  must be the worst features from both her parents --  pronounced  overbite and a curiously powerful squint.  Something we like to call the Clint Eastwood.  Theyare  like the Lennon Sisters, but without the photogenic quality you expect to see on the  Lawrence Welk Show.  Now if as their name "The Braillettes" implies, they are blind, then someone should report that photographer to the Better Business Bureau. Excuse me, I have to put on the Crusaders and eat a few more doughnuts.