I’m always embarrassed to admit that I’m a huge fan of the Cars’ 1979 album, Candy-O. Don’t get me wrong; the songs on that record were nothing short of pop perfection. Band members Rick Ocasek, the late Benjamin Orr, Elliot Easton, Greg Hawkes and David Robinson cultivated a distinct sound combining elements of rockabilly, new wave and hard rock that set them apart from the countless other emerging bands vying for the spotlight. Following their wildly popular, self-titled debut album released the previous year, Candy-O smashed any speculation that this band was merely a flash-in the pan, 15-minute sensation. I distinctly remember the day one of my brothers brought home a copy; from that moment on, the entire album would be played at full-blast practically every hour of every day for the duration of my childhood. As a result, I learned every song by heart and was known to break into spirited renditions of "Dangerous Type" and "Let’s Go" in mid-conversation. That’s how infectious the songs were. I once even managed to sneak the record in to school one day (unbeknownst to my brother, ofcourse) in hopes of introducing my fellow second-graders to songs way cooler than Miss Mary Mack. Even though I had no idea what The Cars were singing about at the time, (She’s winding them down on her clock machine; and she won’t give up ‘cause she’s seventeen) I sang along anyway and couldn’t wait to share those songs with my classmates during lunch when our teacher would allow us to play records from home. Thirty years later, I know for sure that I wouldn’t be caught dead walking out of a record store with Candy-O in hand. Did I mention that I got into heaps of trouble for bringing ‘that record with the naughty album’ cover to class? Oh yes. For a so-called progressive elementary school where teachers were addressed by their first-names, even they had to draw the line somewhere and the depiction of a see-through-leotard-wearing female swooning atop the hood of a car was simply unacceptable, particularly for us seven year-olds growing up in a post-ERA era. Never mind that the band was called ‘The Cars’ -- perhaps to secure an image of unquestionable masculinity while many of the new wave artists du jour opted for an androgynous appeal -- they definitely took it one step further by completing their ‘chicks and cars as the ultimate objects of desire’ theme with such cringe-worthy album art. According to lore, Drummer David Robinson commissioned famed pin-up artist Alberto Vargas, (not to be confused with Antonio Fargas of ‘Huggybear’ fame) to create the now legendary cover art which would adorn the band’s upcoming album. A Beverly Hills Ferrari dealership was the locale of choice for the imminent photo shoot, while the crew at Elektra Records’ art department scoured the streets for ‘a hot blonde with a killer bod’. The selected photo was shot in what I imagine called for several takes (you know, they had to all agree on the RIGHT picture). Vargas completed his painting and sadly, the rest is rock-n-roll history.
