A greatest hits package was inevitable. But Kravitz, a student of album art from Sgt. Pepper to Nevermind , refused to offer a nostalgia trip. Instead, he called Mark Seliger, the legendary photographer known for his intimate, stripped-back portraits of Kurt Cobain, Keith Richards, and the Red Hot Chili Peppers.
Year: 2000 Album: Lenny Kravitz Greatest Hits Photographer: Mark Seliger lenny kravitz greatest hits album cover
Typography is almost an afterthought: small, sans-serif, white lettering tucked in the corner. The album title doesn't scream. It whispers. This is a design choice that says: You already know the songs. Now meet the source. At the time, some retail chains (notably Walmart) refused to stock the physical CD, deeming the near-nudity too provocative. Others filed it next to Prince’s Lovesexy (where he posed nude with a flower) and John Lennon and Yoko Ono’s Unfinished Music No. 1: Two Virgins . Kravitz shrugged. "It's just a back," he told MTV. "If you’re offended by a spine, check your own." A greatest hits package was inevitable
In the pantheon of rock iconography, the greatest hits album is often a contractual afterthought—a cash grab dressed in a lazy collage of tour photos or a garish gold font. But in late 2000, Lenny Kravitz did what he had always done: he ignored the rulebook. Instead, he called Mark Seliger, the legendary photographer
Lenny Kravitz has always been a curator of cool: part Hendrix, part Marvin Gaye, part Studio 54. But this cover transcends style. It is a portrait of self-possession. The man with his back to the camera isn’t hiding. He’s finally letting you see.
The cover of Lenny Kravitz Greatest Hits is audacious in its simplicity. It is a portrait of stillness. Kravitz stands nude, back facing the camera, arms relaxed at his sides. A pair of low-slung leather pants—unbuttoned, precarious—cling to his hips. Three silver rings glint on his left hand. His signature braids, thick and ropelike, cascade down his spine. The background is a seamless, velvety black. The light is Rembrandtesque, sculpting the valleys of his shoulder blades and the sinew of his back.
It is not a rock star screaming. It is a rock star breathing. The year 2000 was a strange pivot point for music. Nu-metal was grating its teeth. Boy bands ruled the radio. Kravitz, meanwhile, had just finished the most commercially successful run of his career. From Mama Said (1991) to 5 (1998), he had given the world five albums of airtight, retro-futurist funk-rock. The singles—"Are You Gonna Go My Way," "It Ain't Over 'Til It's Over," "Fly Away"—had become anthems for a generation that craved groove without guilt.