Hiring Difficulty & Scams: Why Finding A Real Album Cover Designer Feels So Hard

You know that feeling when you open ten tabs looking for “album cover design” and, after an hour, you just feel tired and slightly suspicious of everyone? That’s the reality a lot of indie artists describe to me. You want a unique, human piece of cover art that fits your sound. Instead, you run into the same problems over and over: vague portfolios, sky-high prices, and this nagging fear that you’re about to pay 300 bucks for something quietly spit out by AI in thirty seconds.

From my side of the screen, as a human album cover designer, I see the same thing happening in reverse. Good people, making good music, already stretched thin by mixing, mastering, distribution, promo. By the time they get to the artwork, they’re exhausted. They type “custom album cover” into Google, see quotes in the $200–$600 range, and instantly tense up, wondering, “Is this really worth it? "And how do I know this person is actually creating the artwork themselves?”

The Price Wall

Let’s talk about that $200–$600 price band for a second, because it’s everywhere. For a lot of indie musicians, that’s a full month’s rent, or the last chunk of money left after studio time. From the inside, I know that for real, hand-made album cover design, that range can actually be pretty modest once you factor in concept work, sketching, revisions, maybe vinyl cover design or CD cover design on top. And then there are “designers” charging $10 on various freelancer platforms, which doesn’t make the search for a quality album cover any easier…

But the problem is: the same numbers are being charged by people who are not doing that work.

So you end up scrolling through pages of “album cover ideas” where every example looks… weirdly similar. Faces that are just slightly off. Hands with too many fingers. Modern typography that feels pasted on top of a vintage album cover template instead of woven into it. You’re not wrong to feel uneasy. Your gut is picking up on something the seller’s description is never going to admit: this isn’t bespoke cover art, it’s an AI mashup with a logo on top.

The AI Trap

Honestly, this is the thing that frustrates me most: not that AI exists, but that it’s sold as if it were human work. I’ve had musicians come to me after being burned. They paid a “cover art designer” who promised a “hand-crafted vintage album cover,” got a file back in 24 hours, and then later found almost the same image on a stock site or in someone else’s feed.

They tell me, “I felt stupid for not noticing.” But here’s the truth: you shouldn’t have to be a forensic image analyst just to get an honest and affordable album cover design service. The burden of proof shouldn’t be on you alone.

On my side, I want you to see that your cover started as a rough concept that was developed by two human brains together, not as a text prompt. Vintage cover art, to me, isn’t a filter; it’s the whole process.

What Real Collaboration Feels Like

When the match is right, the experience of working with a human album cover designer feels very different from a quick transaction. It’s not just “send me your Spotify specs and a PayPal receipt.” It’s talking about the story behind your record, why track three matters so much, what city this project belongs to, what colors your sound lives in.

Sometimes an artist will apologize for “not knowing how to describe visuals.” I actually love that part. Translating your emotional language into cover design is where the magic happens. You say, “I want it to feel like driving home after a 3 a.m. gig, slightly wired but calm,” and my brain starts spinning: grainy streetlights, blurred typography, a subtle retro album cover vibe that hints at the era you’re referencing without turning it into cosplay.

That’s the difference between a template and a conversation. Between an album cover creator that just fills in boxes and a cover art designer who actually listens.

Finding The Right Human

I won’t pretend it’s easy. The market is noisy. There are real people undercharging themselves, AI scam accounts overcharging everyone, and a lot of generic cover design out there. But if you’re patient and you ask the right questions—“Can I see sketches? What’s your process? Do you reuse elements?”—you’ll start to spot who’s actually in the room with you.

And when you do find that person, the $100–$200 you spend on a vintage album cover isn’t just paying for pixels. It’s paying for someone who cares enough to sit with your music, to make mistakes on paper, to chase down the exact texture that makes your release feel like yours and not like the internet’s.

In a world where so much feels automated, that kind of collaboration is rare. But it’s still out here, still human, still worth looking for.

Have a look at my portfolio here and feel free to reach out!

All the best,

Spencer