Many Creepy Album Covers of Al Hirt

That Honey Horn Sound provides further evidence that Al simply can’t smile like the rest of us without looking like an arrogant Bond villain right before his giant satellite gets blown to hell. I refuse to believe that the photographer isn’t completely screwing with him at this point.

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I assume that They’re Playing Our Song is a collection of romantic-sounding instrumentals, but poor Al looks like he just got the cold shoulder from some broad and he’s gone full speed ahead into creepy stalker mode, completely bypassing the “get really angry and shout” step followed promptly by the “cry myself to sleep cradling a bag of your hair clippings” phase that break-ups tend to follow. This guy’s career is really dramatic: one day he’s on top of the world and strapping British secret agents to a seatless chair, the next exhibiting all the loneliness that only a four-hundred pound trumpet player can ever truly know.

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Not only does Blow His Own Horn provide us with what I’m hoping to be unintended sexual innuendo* but it also provides us with the horrible nightmare image of Al Hirt as some sort of invertebrate, wriggling his way through the instrument that once gave his life purpose but now holds him captive, never be to be freed again. It’s kind of like the works of Samuel Beckett except there’s fat a guy stuck in a trumpet.

*Note: Following this line of thinking, why would Al need to “blow” his own “horn,” anyway? Who wouldn’t want to play a solo on that guy’s trumpet. Am I right, ladies?

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Now I can actually see what they were going for here. Obviously, Al is supposed to be dancing to the sounds of his honey horn but sadly a single frame of this occurrence doesn’t paint that picture accurately. Instead, he appears as though his knees have finally given away to his fondness of food. To relieve the growing pain he decides to lean on one leg, though as this photo shows he’s quickly losing balance. Presumably photographers were present for the inevitable crash into the catering table.

Quick scenario: you’re at Mardi Gras and you’re watching from a distance as a future Ms. America makes the well informed decision to take off her top and scream nonsensically. Then you see this coming down the street and all is lost:

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Stop and think: when was the last time you heard this at a party: “This is fun and all, but things would get really wild if he had an overweight, poorly dressed trumpet player here.” The correct answer is “never.”

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Finally, this 1967 release confirms everything we’ve come to suspect about jazz musicians. With Music to Watch Girls By Al made it known that he was only in this trumpeting thing for all the sweet ass he could tap as a result. But I’m pretty sure that any girl he ends up watching is going to find herself a corpse in his basement if the cropped eyes and terrible action movie font are any indication.

Here’s a fun fact: the six faces on the cover actually exhibit the full range of emotion that Al Hirt’s face is capable of, ranging from “Orson Welles” to “John Goodman.”

Another fun fact: we’ve seen Al play his trumpet, stalk a woman, pretend to be a southern dandy, and eat candy. We have yet to see him look like a normal human being.

Author: Ben Dennison — Copyrighted © roadtickle.com