The 1970s gave the world some of the most unforgettable rock albums ever made—and some of the wildest backstage meltdowns. But few fans know that one of the decade’s most notorious band arguments didn’t involve music, money, or fame. It was over something far simpler… the color of their shirts on an album cover.
It sounds absurd now, but at the time it nearly tore the group apart. The band—one of the biggest names of the glam-rock era—had just wrapped a grueling world tour. They were exhausted, overexposed, and under pressure from their label to deliver a new record fast. Everything came to a head during a photo shoot meant to capture the album’s concept: youth, unity, and color.
The stylist laid out the wardrobe—five identical satin shirts in different shades. Red, blue, gold, green, and white. The idea was symbolic, “five colors, one sound.” Simple enough… until egos got involved.
According to those who were in the studio that day, the lead singer immediately claimed the gold shirt. “I’m the face of the band,” he said flatly. “Gold fits.” The guitarist wasn’t having it. “You always get the spotlight,” he snapped. “You can take white. I’m wearing gold.”
From there, it spiraled. The drummer refused green because he said it clashed with his eyes. The bassist wanted blue “because that’s what I wore on Top of the Pops.” Within minutes, the argument escalated into a shouting match that had the photographer and makeup team frozen in place. One roadie later joked, “It was like watching five toddlers fight over crayons—but with record sales at stake.”
By the end of the day, doors had slammed, coffee cups had flown, and one member stormed out of the session entirely. The shoot had to be postponed, costing thousands. “The irony,” their manager said later, “was that the shirts were supposed to represent unity. It became the most divided day we ever had.”
When the band finally returned a week later, cooler heads prevailed—but the tension never truly faded. They compromised by all wearing black shirts instead, a last-minute creative pivot that accidentally gave the album its iconic minimalist look. The record went platinum, the cover became one of the most recognizable of the decade, and fans never knew the chaos behind it.
Years later, during an interview, one member laughed about it. “We nearly broke up over shirts,” he said. “That’s rock ’n’ roll, isn’t it? You fight over everything except the music.”
The story has since entered rock folklore—a reminder that sometimes the smallest sparks ignite the biggest explosions. And in the pressure-cooker world of ’70s fame, even the color of a shirt could become a battlefield.
In the end, the band survived, the album soared, and the argument became legend. Because in rock history, perfection rarely comes without a little beautiful chaos.