Fussy Records: Evil Prince in a Wild Jungle

Somebody tracked down the source material for Roy Lichtenstein's work.

Vinyl nerdlets will immediately recognize this cover...

Diggers of all natures and complexities share the first stumble across this title. Some have heard it.

Some have passed. Some bought it just for the cover, maybe, just to be deeply hip, making a big show of how it's a riot and hahawhoolissenstathiscrappp, the percussive tail of crap punctuating in a perfect soundbite of a fart,, a comet's tail of sputum aloft, rcord store employee's lip (ONTHELIP!) bound,,, only to rush home, furiously and unironically flog themselves into unconsciousness, clad only in big thick disco headphones, thickly corded & duct-taped to his or her head, so as not to be flung, as the aforementioned sputum, in the midst of inevitable Orgia Frenetica ala Alpert, certain to ensue once that needle licks wax and Herb shoots a load in your ear at deafening levels... set to repeat, with the cover on the bare wooden floor, leaning on the far wall, just looking.

I bought for the cover, listened to it, mostly over dinner,, and filed it away to be hung in the garage when I'm old and grey, reminiscing on Whipped Cream and other Delights...

"We'd hear stories about that album cover." I'll say to no one in particular.

I'd like to find the audio for this episode of Fresh Air with Gene Simmons...

Terry Gross: I would like to think that the personality you've presented on our show today is a persona that you've affected as a member of KISS, something you do on stage, before the microphone, but that you're not nearly as obnoxious in the privacy of your own home or when you're having dinner with friends.

Gene Simmons: Fair enough. And I'd like to think that the boring lady who's talking to me now is a lot sexier and more interesting than the one who's doing NPR. You know, studious and reserved, and -- I bet you're a lot of fun at a party.