You’ve seen the covers. They range from the slick, noir mystery of Aja to the downright bizarre—and frankly ugly—visual of The Royal Scam. It’s a strange irony. Here you have a band obsessed with sonic perfection, a duo that would spend forty hours just to get a snare drum to sound "crisp," yet their visual brand was often a chaotic mess of inside jokes and low-budget experiments.
Donald Fagen and Walter Becker didn't really care about looking like rock stars. They were the ultimate "anti-heroes" of the 70s. While their peers were posing in silk shirts on the beach, the Dan was busy putting gummy worms and French prostitutes on their debut sleeve.
The "Hideous" Truth About The Early Years
Let’s be honest. Can’t Buy a Thrill is a mess. It’s got that weird neon-hued collage that feels like a fever dream. You’ve got the row of prostitutes in Rouen, France, mixed with these strange, wavy rainbow shapes. Fagen himself once joked that California was so boring you couldn't even buy a thrill there, but even he and Becker later admitted the cover was pretty terrible.
They didn't get much better with Countdown to Ecstasy. That painting of the three figures sitting on a couch? That was done by Dorothy White, who was Fagen's girlfriend at the time. ABC Records' president, Jay Lasker, reportedly hated it so much he demanded a redesign. In true Steely Dan fashion, Becker and Fagen actually stole the art proofs during a heated argument with the label. It’s a miracle the album came out with any art at all.
Then there is The Royal Scam. Look closely at that one. It’s a guy in a suit sleeping on a bench, dreaming of skyscrapers that turn into monster heads. Becker and Fagen famously called this the "most hideous album cover of the seventies, bar none."
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Wait, it gets weirder. That skyscraper painting wasn't even meant for them. It was originally created by an artist named Larry Zox for a Van Morrison album called Mechanical Bliss that never saw the light of day. They just slapped the sleeping man on top of it and called it a day.
When the Visuals Finally Caught Up
Everything changed in 1977. If you own one Steely Dan record on vinyl, it’s probably Aja. It’s the one cover that actually feels as sophisticated as the music inside.
There is a common myth that the late, great comedian Phil Hartman designed the Aja cover. You’ll see this all over Reddit and old trivia blogs. It’s not true. Hartman did design covers for Poco and Crosby, Stills & Nash, but Aja was actually the work of Patricia Mitsui and Geoff Westen.
The woman on the cover? That’s Sayoko Yamaguchi. She was a Japanese supermodel and actress, and the photo was taken by Hideki Fujii. It’s a masterclass in minimalism. The deep black background, the subtle peek of her face—it perfectly captures the "yacht rock" noir vibe they were perfecting.
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The Secret History of Gaucho
By the time Gaucho rolled around in 1980, the band was falling apart. The recording process was a nightmare of lawsuits and drug-fueled perfectionism. But the cover is actually a piece of history.
It’s based on a mural in Buenos Aires by an artist named Israel Hoffmann. The mural is called Guardia Vieja – Tango (Old Guard Tango). If you look at the original mural, it’s often interpreted as two men dancing together. In the early 1900s in Argentina, men often practiced tango together because it was considered scandalous for men and women to dance so closely in public.
Leave it to Steely Dan to choose a piece of art that looks like a simple ballroom dance on the surface but contains layers of social subversion and "outcast" culture underneath.
Why the "Ugliness" Actually Matters
So, why did they allow such "bad" art to represent such "good" music?
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Basically, it was a middle finger to the industry. Steely Dan wasn't a "visual" band. They were a studio project. By picking art that was intentionally jarring, weird, or "hideous," they forced the listener to focus on what actually mattered: the 12-string guitars, the Purdie Shuffle, and the cynical lyrics.
Actionable Tips for Collectors
If you are hunting for these albums in the wild, here is what you need to know about the packaging:
- Check the Gatefolds: Pretzel Logic has a great gatefold. The front photo was taken by Raeanne Rubenstein at 79th Street and Fifth Avenue (Miners' Gate) in Central Park. The fold-out reveals the skyline across the park. If the spine is crushed, you lose half the experience.
- The Katy Lied "Problem": For some reason, the cardstock used for Katy Lied in 1975 was incredibly prone to "ring wear" (that white circle that appears from the record rubbing against the sleeve). Finding a "clean" copy of this one is the ultimate test for a collector.
- Identify the Labels: Early Steely Dan was on ABC Records. If you find a copy with the "blocks" logo or the multi-colored "rainbow" circle, you’ve likely got an early pressing. Later reissues on MCA usually have much thinner, flimsier covers.
The next time you’re flipping through crates at a record store and you see that man dreaming of snake-head buildings, don't just laugh at the 70s aesthetics. Remember that you’re looking at a deliberate choice by two guys who were too smart—and maybe too stubborn—to care about being pretty.
Your next move: Go check your copy of Pretzel Logic. Look at the pretzel cart on the cover. See the price? 15 cents. Also, notice the misspelling of "pretzle" on the side of the cart. It's those little imperfections that make the Dan’s visual history just as interesting as their flawless master tapes.