Not expecting everyone to like those covers - hey, it's art! - but the visual aspect was as much part of the listening experience as the music. The ECM aesthetic - the washed-out landscapes, empty spaces, abstract textures, and sans-serif minimalism - mirrors the sonic atmosphere: space, clarity, introspection, restraint. It's an extension of the label's tagline: "The Most Beautiful Sound Next To Silence." The covers almost invite you to listen quietly.
People who want more "color," flash, or narrative from an album cover (like you might get from Blue Note, Impulse!, a.o.) sometimes bristle at ECM's cool distance. But ECM isn’t about selling you the party. It’s about inviting you into a sound world, where even the artwork is whispering rather than shouting.
Also, many ECM covers are photographs of nowhere in particular - foggy woods, grey buildings, sea horizons - but they become something because they’re tied to that specific album’s mood. So even if you don't recognize the landscape, it becomes part of the music's geography.
It’s almost like ECM was practicing slow design decades before that became a thing. If Blue Note covers are like classic jazz clubs full of life, ECM covers are like walking alone through an empty museum at night. Not everyone wants that, but for those who do, it's perfect.