This was the evil album. So evil that we had to say "e-vile."
We were all happy singing along to the Turtles ("Imagine me and you, I do!") without even realizing that Flo and Eddie were part of the e-vile Mothers of Invention with Frank "Smoke 'em if you got 'em" Zappa.
We were dancing merrily with the Lovin' Spoonful as the "Younger girl keeps rollin' 'cross my mind."
Even the rawness of the Kinks couldn't stop us from bouncing around as Manfred Mann yelled out, "Do wa diddy, diddy boomp, diddy boomp."
Even when the Moody Blues told us we'd have to Go Now, we really weren't paying attention. We were all "down in the hollow" with Van's Brown Eyed Girl. Singin' and a'dancin.'
But then.
Then came big lips and his gang. They'd been trying to screw up the happiness for a while. Man, did they get their wish when they put out this album to their lord, the god of all that is dark and e-vile.
People stabbed to death in Altamont? Small change, I'd say, to what happened to the psyche in small-town America after this dark platter hit the turntables.
Some got over it. Some didn't.