Cover Collector – May Purples
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Design by Ryan Morrissey
I don’t know about you guys, but I love a good album art collage. One of the first things I do every Friday is head over to tapmusic.net and render a 4x4 chart of the albums I listened to most over the past week. At the end of each month, I do the same thing with a 5x5 that recaps my previous 30 days of listening. By the time December rolls around, I look forward to recapping the last twelve months with a gigantic 10x10 grid in an unwieldy encapsulation of the 100 albums that defined my year.
Is it a little self-aggrandizing? Sure, but it’s also a fun way to see a quick snapshot of what my last week, month, or year has sounded like. At its best, this practice has led to fun conversations and solid recommendations going back and forth with friends as we bond over specific albums. Sometimes it’s that shared love over a deep pull from years gone by, other times it’s just noticing trends with a recent fave that seems like an unshakable presence week in and week out. At the very least, I suppose it’s satisfying to see a bunch of records that I feel an affinity toward lined up and embodying a specific stretch of my life.
At some point near the tail end of last year, I conceived of a more communal way to bring this love of album collage to life. Because, sure, getting a live readout of your listening history is cool, but this is also about album art, an essential part of the experience and something us music nerds can fixate on just as much as the songs that sit beneath the cover. As such, I’m excited to welcome you to the fifth edition of Cover Collector: a monthly installation where the Swim Team discusses some of our favorite albums based on album color. For May, we’re writing about posh purples.
Temple of the Dog – Temple of the Dog
A&M
If, like me, you are a Second Generation Grunge Fan, an album like Temple of the Dog seems impossible the first time you hear it. All the members of Pearl Jam *before* Pearl Jam had formed? Soundgarden’s Chris Cornell on lead vocals and an Eddie Vedder cameo *before* any of those guys had really worked with Eddie before? It seems insane, and it is. Temple of the Dog existed for about 18 months, recorded one album, played fewer than a dozen live shows, and launched its members into 90’s Music Royalty.
Tragically, the band was formed as a tribute to Andrew Wood, lead singer of Mother Love Bone and roommate of Cornell, who died of a heroin overdose in March of 1990. Grieving and directionless, bassist Jeff Ament described the band as “a really good thing at the time” for him and guitarist Stone Gossard, which put them in a “band situation where we could play and make music.”
Cornell had written the first two tracks, “Say Hello 2 Heaven” and “Reach Down,” before Wood passed, and lyrically those songs became ever more prescient in the aftermath. The music is jammier, heavier, and more melodic than the music the guys of Mother Love Bone and Soundgarden were making at the time, but the darker vibe of the music served as a perfect platform for Cornell’s otherworldly rock vocals.
The centerpiece and most notable track from the album, “Hunger Strike,” features the first lead vocal performance of Eddie Vedder, who had flown in to Seattle to audition for the new iteration of Mother Love Bone. Vedder sang the lead in his now-trademark low register, perfectly fitting the space that Cornell was aiming to fill. In Cornell’s words, “He sang half of that song not even knowing that I'd wanted the part to be, and he sang it exactly the way I was thinking about doing it, just instinctively.”
Temple of the Dog remains a colossal work of art in the scope of 90’s Grunge music, a testament to the healing power of creating art in times of pain, and a remarkable jumping-off point for the most influential titans of the era.
When my high school/college friend Colby Dorf passed away in 2024, Temple of the Dog was a huge comfort to me. I listened to “Say Hello 2 Heaven” and “Hunger Strike” on repeat for a week, and I played them both as loudly as local statutes would allow. I suggest, even if you aren’t in pain, that you do the same. Your neighbors deserve to hear Chris Cornell and Eddie Vedder trading melodies over huge guitars.
– Caleb Doyle
Method of Doubt – Total Soul Ignition
Scheme
2025 saw a lot of stellar releases in the underground music community, and one EP in particular was a major standout to me: Method of Doubt’s Total Soul Ignition was my favorite hardcore release of the year. The purple-tinted cover, depicting a figure mid-two-step wearing a shirt that has the title emblazoned across it, feels classic and timeless. Even the elongated serif font the band chose to display their name is reminiscent of the font commonly used by hardcore titans Earth Crisis.
This EP spans four furious tracks, featuring guitars with just a hint of grit, snappy drumming, and urgent vocals that pack a punch without losing clarity. In a world that feels saturated with fuzz, excess reverb, and heavy compression, all of this caught my attention immediately. It’s a refreshingly crisp listen. The lyrics are a sharp stand against apathy, stating, “There’s got to be a different way, and I will live it out / Still in search of the quiet life / Still in search of the righteous life.” On the second track, the band follows this declaration with a snarling question directed at those in power: “Have you ever stopped to think, for once in your life, that you might not be right?” Method of Doubt offers up eight minutes of scintillating hardcore and doesn’t waste a single second.
– Britta Joseph
Olivia Rodrigo – SOUR
Geffen Records
Summer 2021 felt like it was covered by an ecstatic purple haze. A cloud had descended, and every breath brought pain and exaltation into your lungs in equal measure. Everyone felt it. Olivia Rodrigo’s debut album, SOUR, was just that fucking good. I’m not speaking hyperbolically when I describe Rodrigo’s music as ecstatic. What makes her songs so good is that while, yes, they hurt, each song feels so fucking good. She’s not content for “drivers license” to just wallow in the agony of romantic euphoria being upended that she describes on the verses and choruses; she knows the song needs that chanting bridge declaring how much she still feels love for him during the small moments of sitting at red lights to make it hurt so damn good. Sure, she can be childish, like who doesn’t know Billy Joel? But who hasn’t felt a little childish in a breakup? They broke your heart. Why should you be charitable? That’s the other thing about Rodrigo’s music and why adults respect her songwriting so much: she reminds us we’re all a little childish.
– Lillian Weber
Prince – Purple Rain
NPG Records
Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to talk about Purple Rain. Not only is this one of my favorite albums of all time, but it’s also easily the greatest soundtrack ever created. The film of the same title vaulted Prince from household name to international icon, a status he has held ever since. Prince’s star is a celestial one. Take, for instance, the vicious guitar solo on the ending of “Let’s Go Crazy,” or the monumental, career-defining ballad “Purple Rain.” The songs are transcendent, full stop. On Purple Rain, Prince kept climbing sky-high plateaus until he reached the very top of the mountain, something that only a select few artists ever reached.
My personal favorites, “I Would Die 4 U” and “Baby I’m Star,” bleed into one another back-to-back; the songs are jovial, glistening, and sound like a party I would never want to leave. Even the B-sides on the deluxe album that never made it to the official release, in the words of Martin Scorsese, are “pure cinema.” Tracks like “17 Days,” “Velvet Kitty Kat,” and “The Dance Electric” would be most pop artists’ best songs if we were being honest.
Since May is purple month over on Swim Into The Sound, it’s only right to write about “The Purple One.” No one, and I mean no one, has owned a color more than Prince. His Royal Badness has been the “Grand Poobah” growing strong for over forty years, steamrolling every other purple object in his path from lilacs to eggplants to Grimace. So, if the elevator tries to bring you down, put on Purple Rain. Game blouses.
– David Williams
A Day to Remember – Homesick
Victory Records
A Day to Remember’s tenure in the pop-punk and metalcore scene goes largely unappreciated for the run that they’re on. A band, formed in 2003, that’s kept the same lineup (for the most part) while still kicking 23 years later can garner respect from even the snobbiest of scene gatekeepers. While their more recent albums leave little to write home about, the Florida-based group’s early run is one for the history books. When discussing the best pop-punk units of all time, I firmly believe that ADTR remains strongly in contention, particularly with Homesick.
Homesick showcases ADTR’s patented seamless blend of infectious pop-punk choruses with crushing metalcore breakdowns at a time when the two genres were just beginning to converge. The band members find themselves at a thematic crossroads as well, as Homesick details their begrudging commitment to leave Ocala behind for a life on the road. The group’s range is on full display here, and it shines even in the sequencing of tracks where the circle-pit invoking “Mr. Highway's Thinking About The End” sits confidently before the arena-ready anthem “Have Faith In Me.” Ultimately, the record stands not only as an ode to the lives they left behind in Florida, but a vindictive lament to those who said they would never make it.
– Brandon Cortez
The Reptilian – Full Health
Count Your Lucky Stars Records
In the grand scheme of things, an old adage holds true. I do not remember it word for word, but it’s something to the effect of: Proximity can breed fondness. I think. Either way, because my formative years were in the thick of DIY activity in the 2010s, it is with utter fondness that I remember records that fell out of the general looping zeitgeist. Whether they deserve it or not is to be argued elsewhere; my real point here is one of recollection. Full Health is a record hewn from a time when post-hardcore was about a raised brew in-hand, waved and spilled to mathy, noodley punk packed out in a small room where every word shouted was known, and falling down felt only half as good as getting back up. The Reptilian’s positing of up-and-down thrashy emo felt like it was at the center of all things, and Full Health certainly had its own center of gravity, existing as an eternal marker for the scene at the time, perfectly held and suspended in that indescribable feeling. As the band captures it on the album closer, “Aerosmith Kids,” when they sing:
Now I'm living for myself / Varsity blues can't bring me down and stop me in my tracks / Don't bring me down / My best friends write the best riffs / Don't bring me down. / We'll stay to the end.
– Elias Amini
Cave In – Jupiter
Hydra Head
Part space rock, part post-hardcore, part metalcore, and all parts uniquely brilliant, Cave In’s second album, Jupiter, is a shining satellite that kicked off the new millennium in a way no other band could. It was originally released on the legendary heavy label Hydra Head with a number of different colored cover variations, but one of the initial two, and the one used for the 25th anniversary edition via Relapse Records last year, was the purple-tinted crater close-up that allows its entry into this list. Cave In remains a limitless band even through their latest album, 2022’s Heavy Pendulum, with Jupiter being a defining moment of their expansive artistic reach. Coming off the already ambitious Until Your Heart Stops just a couple of years earlier, Cave In dialed back the chaos and focused on more accessible (but just as proficient) metal music, straying from their original hardcore roots but laying the foundation for a new take on the nebulous post-hardcore genre. It’s an essential transmission sequence from top to bottom, but “Big Riff” is a standout moment of the band’s entire catalog, a piece of media more important than the moon landing broadcast. Jupiter widened the lens of what a band in a hardcore space could be capable of, and it still sounds cosmically enchanting today.
– Logan Archer Mounts
Say Anything – In Defense of the Genre
J Records
I have a love/hate relationship with the band Say Anything and their vocalist, Max Bemis. I’ve been listening to their music for over two decades, with my fandom reaching its peak during my teen years. The irreverent humor, inflammatory verbiage, and erratic song-writing, while feeling right at home in the ears of my teenage self, have somewhat soured and left me with complicated feelings towards the band and the man behind it in the years since.
All that to say, I feel as though Say Anything’s third studio album, In Defense of the Genre, is the perfect capsule of everything the band has ever had to offer, both the good and the bad. In Defense holds many of my favorite Say Anything songs, from the R&B-inspired bops “Baby Girl, I’m A Blur” and “No Soul” to the musically chaotic “That Is Why” and the album’s grandiose title track. One of the album’s most glaring issues is its length. At a bloated 27 tracks (despite its 23 features from the era’s most iconic emo singers), it doesn’t always stick the landing, and the cringeworthy tracks like “Died A Jew” just leave me feeling puzzled and intensely rolling my eyes twenty years later. I don’t even feel comfortable dropping the title of one of my favorite tracks on the album in this space (yeah, that one).
There’s a part of me that will always love Say Anything, always feel perplexed and challenged by Max Bemis as both a person and a songwriter, and come to the defense of the band’s second, third, and fourth LPs. I ultimately feel as though there's beauty in that kind of relationship. Clinging to the music we used to love and the people we used to be in our adolescence, both to the ends of comfort and of protecting a piece of ourselves we can no longer fully relate to, but identify with all the same. In Defense of the Genre, shortcomings and blemishes and all, will forever be a chapter of my life I will inevitably and intermittently again forever.
– Ciara Rhiannon
Future – DS2
Epic
I don’t care if it’s not majority purple, this counts. Come on, that’s literally purple drink. Check out that crisp purple logo in the top right. Did you know that the CD version of this album is made from a reflective, holographic-type material and features a 9-panel foldout? Really adds to the overall effect. There’s also a face hidden in the blue swirl that I didn’t know about until researching this right now, almost eleven years later (squint and you’ll start to see an eye right by the bottom corner of the logo). There was also a rumored textbook cover that bears the same image, but there’s also a 13-minute YouTube video where a guy attempts to track it down and calls it “lost media”, so maybe that was just a meme all along. Cover aside, holy shit does this DS2 still hit hard as fuck over a decade later. “Stick Talk”? Come on. That beat on “I Serve the Base”? Unforgettable. “Blood on the Money”? Cold as ice. “Thought It Was a Drought”? Get the fuck outta here. I had the absolute best summer in 2015 riding around and listening to this record, and it’s genuinely surprising how consistent and fulfilling it remains this many years later. Peak Future.
– Taylor Grimes
Hum – Inlet
Earth Analog Records
It's a great feeling to know that your legends can still dunk. After years of wear and tear on the body, you'd expect a decline in hops because, as we say in the game, “Father Time comes for us all.” So when you see your OGs get up for one final slam that turns out to be an all-time posterization, you're forced to rethink everything you ever thought about life and existence. Well, that's what Hum did with 2020's Inlet. They emerged from a twenty-two-year hiatus with their best album. By the time Inlet was released, Hum-indebted heavy shoegaze and spacerock had really started to pick up steam, and this felt like a direct response as if to say, “I see what you kids are doing, but don't forget why you ever attempted this sound in the first place.” This is Hum and their tightest and most titanic. Their riffs have never been more pummeling, and Bryan St. Pere's drums have never been so thunderous. A perfect exclamation point to a career-long highlight reel.
– Connor Fitzpatrick
My Chemical Romance – I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love
Reprise
In Julio Torres’ new special, Color Theories, he declares that purple is the color of mystery and intrigue. I bring this up because I think this is the only My Chem album that actually embraced that feeling, and it’s the only one with a kinda purple cover. My Chem had to end up in this series for me somewhere, so it’s here. When I think of I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love, I think about how it’s kind of bad. It’s an absolutely sloppy album, too wordy, too vampiric (not like their later albums), the fan lore is a bit obnoxious, and it gets a bit into Metallica in a way that sucks. But I love it.
Bullets has a real mythology around it. Gerard Way was in agonizing pain during the recording sessions. Mikey Way begged Geoff Rickly to listen to the songs at a house party, and Rickly essentially rolled his eyes. Ray Toro didn’t know the difference between lead guitar and rhythm guitar, so he rolled all of it into one. They almost poisoned themselves with spray paint fumes for a music video. Frank Iero got hold of a demo and couldn’t stop listening. The band stopped playing “Drowning Lessons” because they thought it was cursed. The CD declares that Gerard will suck your blood if you duplicate it. It’s messy and gross, and they eventually figured out how to do everything better on the next album, but that’s why it’s good. It’s a desperate project by desperate people. It’s their greatest trick. That’s why Houdini is on the cover.
– Caro Alt
MGMT – Oracular Spectacular
Columbia Records
There are a handful of albums from each decade that now elicit pure, unadulterated nostalgia. For the late 2000s, MGMT’s debut album Oracular Spectacular fits the bill to a T. Work on the album initially began while the duo were still freshmen in college, before they signed to a label. Released in 2007, Oracular Spectacular remains instantly recognizable, with a sound that can immediately flood the listener with memories of a place, a feeling, or a very specific moment from 15-plus years ago.
Standout tracks are, of course, “Kids” and “Electric Feel,” which feel like decade-defining sounds of the late 2000’s, but the album still holds up beyond those nostalgia touchpoints. Some of the less synth-driven songs still sound great. A couple of my favorites are “Pieces of What” and “Of Moons, Birds & Monsters.” Turns out, if you want to encase 2007 in amber, it wouldn’t be yellow, but the purple-blue you see on the cover of Oracular Spectacular.
– Ryan Morrissey
Paw – Death to Traitors
A&M Records
This is grunge with a capital G, from the early ‘90s in Lawrence, Kansas. I’ve written before that this is proto divorced-dad rock, with lyrics like “Everyone is bored and boring / Not me, I am drunk and roaring.”
If the mainstream hadn’t had Nirvana, they would’ve had Paw. A&M picked them up on the strength of a demo recorded at Smart Sounds in 1992. With major label support, Paw released their debut album Dragline in 1993. Their sophomore release, Death to Traitors, came out two years later and treads similar territory, albeit with fewer off-genre intrusions. The record wasn’t significantly promoted due to internal difficulties at the label and never achieved major acclaim. This is surprising because every song in the hour-long album fucking rocks. Case in point, “Built Low” is a 6-minute cruiser, split perfectly into thirds with a 2-minute exposition, a 90-second breakdown, and a riff-filled instrumental outro. On first listen, you’d have no idea how long this song is. Like all really great bands, Paw broke up a few years later, with a smattering of reunion efforts afterward.
This album is just over 30 years old, released when the marketing machine was pre-internet, pre-iTunes, pre-Spotify, and pre-analytics. Compared to now, labels were basically throwing darts at a wall, drunk, with their eyes closed. Albums that sailed under the radar like this also tend to be preserved poorly. For example, the cover on Spotify, YouTube, and Discogs is a purple haze of storm clouds over a stampeding herd of horses. The image on Wikipedia is inexplicably red-hued and is not another version of the album, just a poorly digitized image. It’s hard to say how or why a band this talented falls through the cracks, but it’s a great example of why exploring and developing personal taste matters. It’s the only way to know for yourself what groups are being overlooked.
– Braden Allmond
Free Throw — Those Days Are Gone
Count Your Lucky Stars Records
If the emo genre were to have its own equivalent to a drinking song, one that nobody in the room could resist singing along to, it would undoubtedly be “Two Beers In.” Whether in a cramped basement or on the stereo between sets at a show, this beloved song instantly brings people together. But it’s far from the only recognizable track off of Free Throw’s debut LP, Those Days Are Gone. The entire record has become something of a modern classic amongst the scene, and it isn’t hard to see why.
Those Days Are Gone dives deep into the anger and grief-stricken reality of a love that didn’t last–a nearly universal pain. The contemplative intro to “Such Luck” quickly gives way to the guttural heart of the record, signaling to the listener that things are about to get uncomfortably honest.
Unlike earlier incarnations of emo that were steeped in figurative prose, Free Throw and their fourth wave counterparts tend to speak quite literally. Stories of heartbreak are sprinkled throughout the yelling and heaviness, and admissions of unhealthy coping mechanisms are sandwiched between twinkly guitar riffs. Nearly every song on the record makes space for both calmness and intensity, mimicking the whiplash one feels between anger and sadness. Those Days Are Gone feels like driving too fast, then slamming on the brakes, yelling at your phone, and staring into the distance. The final line of the record dwells on if things “could have stayed the same,” but deep down, we know that sometimes, it’s better to move on and begin healing.
– Annie Watson
Bladee – Gluee
YEAR0001
For better or worse, I discovered Bladee through a Twitter meme- a video of a kid sleeping, and someone pours water on him- as he wakes up, they slap him across the face. Instead of screaming, what else could come out of this poor kid’s mouth but the undeniable intro to “Be Nice 2 Me.” I tracked the song down through the comments on the tweet, and thus began my journey into Drain Gang.
Gluee is Bladee’s debut mixtape, and, as a whole, one of the lesser-loved works by the world’s AutoTune Angel. And I can see why- much of what Bladee is doing on Gluee is much better executed in his later work as he becomes not only more confident in his rapping and singing but also in dialing in his AutoTune parameters. But it’s hard to deny just how unique Gluee sounds, not just in Bladee’s discography, but just in general. It is truly a marvel that this album exists. Here, we have a white boy from Sweden, taking in copious amounts of American rap and pop music via the internet, creating a sound that somehow captures the emotional undercurrent of it all, no matter how disparate the starting influences were. You can hear the braggadocio of Chief Keef, the rhythmic flows of Lil B, the digital haze of James Ferraro, the emotional vulnerability of the Beach Boys, often all in just one Bladee song- it really is incredible how he makes it sound so easy, so fresh.
In fact, it’s hard to imagine the current musical landscape without Bladee. What seemed to be just another internet curiosity turned out to be an artist who changed what music could sound like. Gluee, as amateurish as it can seem at times, planted the seeds for the whole Drain sound. Although Bladee’s influence can now be heard in more and more artists across the world, Gluee has a special, spectral vibe to it that isn’t quite like anything else. I can’t promise you’ll like it the first time, but I will promise that it will elicit a visceral reaction from you.
– Nickolas Sackett
The Buried Heart – Safe Harbor
Self-Released
One of the greatest gifts in this life, and one that I never try to take for granted, is how fortunate I am to call some of my favorite musicians my friends. Next year will mark a decade since my buddy Jack Wittich released his first EP under the project The Buried Heart. I am truly not exaggerating when I say Jack is one of the best musicians I know, and revisiting his first EP, Safe Harbor, only reminds me of how his passion for the game and his abilities as a creator have not faltered over the past decade.
The Buried Heart is a project that wears its influences on its sleeve; a cosmic amalgamation of emo, post-hardcore, Japanese video game music, and animated orchestration that has given this project such a unique feeling and scope. The five songs across Safe Harbor cover so much ground. While “Opia” has always been the standout track for me, “Veins,” “Dichotomy,” and “Flowers & Theft” can sling punches with the best of them in the hardcore scene and beyond. The heart of the EP, however, lies in the track “Garden,” a melancholic love letter to Jack’s younger brother, whom he lost far too young. Not only does this track cut deep as someone who has come to consider Jack a brother over the past several years, but its musicality is equal parts breathtaking and emotive on every listen.
Each time I’m treated to new Buried Heart music, whether it's the 2020 self-titled LP or various WIP demos, I’m thoroughly blown away by how much Jack has improved as a musician over the years and how obviously the magic was there from the start. If you’re lucky enough to be friends with some of your favorite artists, you know it's both a privilege and a gift to see their growth and to cherish these kinds of earlier works.
– Ciara Rhiannon
Glitterer – erer
Purple Circle Records
While I think I’m still partial to the music and album art for Glitterer’s 2024 album Rationale, it’s hard to deny the striking design of erer. For this cover, the band embraced a prominent purple (hex code #992bd5 to be exact) stretched edge-to-edge that allows the red type band name and album title to pop out in a shocking contrast, smashed together, reading extra hypnotic and repetitive: “Glitterererer.” Below that, the album name is blown up to massive proportions, making it instantly recognizable from miles away. The band used this same color scheme to turn their name into a tricky little “face” logo and even gave them the namesake for their own “Purple Circle Records,” which they used to self-release this album. Beneath the cover, tracks like “Somebody” and “Stainless Steel” are instant career bests for Ned Russin & co. The tracks hit hard as fuck and sound great live, solidifying into a killer 25 minutes of punk music primed for shouting, sweating, and dancing along to.
– Taylor Grimes
Honorable Mentions
Hey, we can’t write about every album with this color, so here’s a list of some more that we feel like we should mention.
Erykah Badu - New Amerykah Part Two (Return of the Ankh)
Ben Seretan, John Thayer - Sunbeam of No Illusion
Alex G - I Saw The TV Glow (Original Motion Picture Soundtrack)
Dehd - Poetry
Paramore - After Laughter
Cassandra Jenkins - My Light, My Destroyer
Bam Bam - Free Fall from Space
Teethe - Magic of the Sale
Cory Hanson - Western Cum
Infant Island - Obsidian Wreath
Footballhead - Overthinking Everything
Great Grandpa - Patience, Moonbeam
Chat Pile - Remove Your Skin Please
Buggin - Concrete Cowboys
Take Care - Southtowne Lanes
Shudder To Think - Pony Express Record
Boris - Heavy Rocks
Doomriders - Black Thunder
Paul Stanley - Paul Stanley
Fred - Fred
The Smiths - The Smiths
Edgar Froese - Aqua
Pallbearer - Sorrow And Extinction
Donovan - A Gift From A Flower To A Garden
Hot Mulligan - Why Would I Watch
Drug Church - Prude
Smashing Pumpkins - Gish
Cross My Heart - Cross My Heart
Fall Out Boy - MANIA
