Well, that might be a tiny jpg but left to right: Lydia Lunch, David Johansen, William S. Burroughs, Jim Carroll, and presumably label impresario John Giorno. Giorno's one of those winguts you'd expect to to see over-analyzed on the Illogical Contraption, a failed poet who started his own hip label and ended up releasing many quality-variable LPs of much more interesting artists and wormed his own obnoxious tracks in with the rest of them. Without him many fascinating records of this stripe would not exist and yet he manages to shit all over them and consitently be the most obnoxious part of the collective, which might be strong words considering that he funded the most grating unfiltered gibbering from Diamonda Galas and Einstürzende Neubauten! Nonetheless, Uncle Abdul's favorites on this album are "Uh Oh, Plutonium," a Cold War dance-party meditation by Anne Waldeman, and Richard Hell's self-parody/self-aggrandizement "The Reverend Hell Gets Confused." Not merely poetry, most of this is weird self-conscious "jokes" and typical drug-addict narcissism, exemplified by Jim Carroll's hilarious spoken word sparring match with a blind kimono-clad hunchback chick who mistook him for Iggy Pop.What it is?
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