Frank Zappa was never one to tread lightly, especially when it came to tearing down cultural idols. So when he and the Mothers of Invention decided to parody The Beatles’ iconic Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band cover for We’re Only In It For The Money, they went all in, crafting a visual riot that screamed rebellion from every absurd detail. This chaotic tableau was masterfully captured by Jerry Schatzberg, a celebrated photographer whose work had already immortalized some of the biggest names in 1960s music and counterculture.

The Sgt. Pepper’s parody was more than just a cheap gag—it was Zappa’s way of exposing what he saw as the ultimate hypocrisy of the so-called counterculture. By 1968, he was convinced that the once-revolutionary hippie ethos had been sanitized, packaged, and sold to the masses. And nothing epitomized that commercialization more than The Beatles’ lavish, flower-filled masterpiece. So, Zappa’s take aimed to dismantle that idealism, swapping out bouquets for smashed fruit and vegetables arranged in a crude, derisive homage to the original.

Frank Zappa actually reached out to Paul McCartney to get permission for the Sgt. Pepper’s parody. McCartney deflected the issue, saying it was a matter for their business managers. Zappa, always the principled provocateur, argued that artists should be the ones instructing their managers, not the other way around. Despite this, Capitol Records objected, causing a five-month delay in the album’s release. Fearing legal repercussions, Verve Records flipped the intended cover design, placing the Sgt. Pepper parody on the inside and opting for safer artwork on the front. This decision infuriated Zappa, and even designer Cal Schenkel believed the original parody image was far superior.

But here’s where things get really interesting: standing on the far right of the photo is none other than Jimi Hendrix himself. Hendrix wasn’t just a passive participant; he and Zappa shared a genuine respect for each other’s musical prowess. The stars aligned when Hendrix was in New York, recording tracks for his own album at Mayfair Studios—the same cramped, unglamorous space where Zappa and his crew were working. Hendrix, always up for a good bit of countercultural anarchy, jumped into the photo, cementing the image’s status as an artifact of rock history.

Beyond Hendrix, the cover brims with Easter eggs and references. You’ve got a plaster bust of Edgar Varèse, Zappa’s avant-garde idol, perched at Zappa’s feet, a nod to the roots of his experimental leanings. The bizarre assortment of props, from a random Christmas tree to dismembered dolls, adds to the sense of surreal, anarchic humor that Zappa loved to inject into his work. And let’s not forget that the album’s title was spelled out in chunks of watermelon and vegetables, echoing Zappa’s earlier satirical song “Call Any Vegetable.”

Yet this perfect storm of satire almost didn’t see the light of day. Verve Records, fearing a legal squabble with The Beatles’ camp, chickened out and refused to use Schatzberg’s image for the front cover, pushing it to the inside sleeve instead. Zappa was furious; he believed the entire album, cover included, needed to strike a defiant chord against the establishment. Years later, when the album was reissued, Schatzberg’s work finally claimed its rightful place on the cover, a delayed victory for Zappa’s rebellious vision.

The making of We’re Only In It For The Money was as unconventional as its visuals. Zappa turned the studio into a playground of avant-garde experiments, recording snippets of bizarre dialogue, using grand pianos as acoustic resonators, and even involving friends like Eric Clapton in his sound collages. The result was an album that interrupted conventional songs with musique concrète interludes, cutting through the shiny veneer of the psychedelic era with sharp satire and genre-defying innovation.

In this moment, with Hendrix in the picture and Zappa at the helm, the photo stands as more than just a mockery of a Beatles cover. It’s a manifesto, a middle finger to the sanitized narrative of 1960s counterculture. And while Zappa’s critiques often split audiences into devoted fans or lifelong skeptics, one thing is clear: We’re Only In It For The Money remains a fearless artifact, every detail brimming with the humor, cynicism, and sheer unpredictability that made Frank Zappa a force of nature.