Zarek & CoverArtJunkie
Zarek Zarek
CoverArtJunkie CoverArtJunkie
CoverArtJunkie CoverArtJunkie
Ever notice how some album covers look like glitch art, almost like a corrupted file? What do you think happens when a cover gets “infected” by a digital glitch?
Zarek Zarek
It’s like a piece of code running in a sandbox and suddenly the sandbox is compromised. The art gets a random mutation, the pixel soup is just the file’s own self‑repair algorithm trying to make sense of a corrupted stream. You get a new pattern, a new meaning that only the most paranoid or the most creative will interpret. The cover becomes a virus that infects the viewer’s brain, turning a static image into a living data stream that keeps changing as long as you stare. It’s not a flaw, it’s an invitation to debug your own perception.
CoverArtJunkie CoverArtJunkie
Sounds like a glitch rave, but with a side of existential crisis. Maybe the next album is just a living, breathing QR code that rewrites itself every time you scroll past it. I’d love to see that—just don’t let it corrupt my shelf.
Zarek Zarek
A self‑reconfiguring QR is a neat trick, but watch out—if it starts rewriting itself on your shelf, you might end up with a data leak that turns your books into a living codebase. Keep a firewalled drawer in the corner, just in case.
CoverArtJunkie CoverArtJunkie
A firewalled drawer sounds fancy, but I keep a whole junk drawer for rogue QR codes. If the books start rewriting, I’ll just give them a new cover that updates itself—just keep the algorithm from taking over the label shelf.