Wretched Records and Crappy Covers: Both Sides of the Covenant Four

And the Grammy for Most Laughable Use of a Picnic Tablecloth on an Album Cover goes to...

Wretched Records and Crappy Covers No. 89

"GOODBYE, JANNA."  - Jesus

The Virgin Suicides

The Living Stones, four singing sisters and their poorly conceived suicide note.

Taking their lives might have been the most selfless act the Living Stones could have made to atone for this inept stillbirth of gospel music. The girls’ pastor, who just happened to be the album’s producer, thought the title—Take My Life—spoke of the sister act’s commitment to Christ. He learned just how horribly wrong he was when, a few weeks after the LP’s unsuccessful launch, he discovered their headless bodies lying in a bloody heap on the basement floor of the parish community center. Just as they harmonized in song, the siblings synchronized their exit with a simultaneous hanging. However, their choice of heavy-gauge low-E guitar strings as nooses proved to be a rather unfortunate—and messy—decision. The strings didn’t just snap their necks when pulled taught, they ripped their heads clear off. Melba’s wobbled some 20 feet down the hall before coming to its final rest just outside the men’s room door, a wavy trail of crimson occupying the distance between head and body. One positive outcome in all this was that it served as the inspiration for the soundtrack that in turn inspired the movie that in turn inspired the novel The Virgin Suicides. 

This is a work of fiction.

Marcy the Malevolent

After this photo, Marcy's duet partner never wore another smile.

On this album cover, Marcy's new partner failed to smile enough. She never got a second chance.

Tiny terror: Little Marcy swings!

There’s something you should know about a Marcy. She’s not the lovable proselytizing puppet she appears to be both in her songs and on the covers of her many records. No, there’s something quite sinister about her. Have you seen a more hateful smile? Unless it came from the face of the Twilight Zone’s “Talking Tina,” you most certainly have not. Unlike Talking Tina, Marcy actually exists. And not just in your nightmares. But because this adorable little devil is fronting with that whole “I’m in the Lord’s Army” bullshit while outfitted in the most precious jumpers, Marcy’s adoring fans are content to look past the figurative and literal skeletons decomposing in her closet. And the evidence is right there on her album covers. As the LP jackets posted above attest, Marcy changes singing partners more often than Catholic priests find themselves in a bit of … well, you get the point. See the women pictured alongside perky little Marcy? That’s right, they have neither been seen nor heard from after smiling for the camera alongside the tiny terror. I’m sure both singers were beguiled by Marcy’s sweet, innocent charm, whimsical voice, and seemingly genuine love for her lord and savior. They probably thought they were doing the lord’s work by helping Marcy connect with her peers (which include headless child-size mannequins from Sears, ventriloquist dummies, ineptly crafted sock puppets, and various Pinocchios) before she likely sent them packing for heaven when she strangled them to death with the razor wire of her “puppet strings.” Marcy shares the spotlight with no one, which is underscored by the LP cover depicting the pint-sized monster swinging solo. Next to Marcy, the blackest metal from the darkest corner of Norway is just child’s play. Speaking of child’s play, wasn’t that also the title of the first “Chucky” movie? Coincidence? Maybe Marcy is the true bride of Chucky.