Arguing Beatles versus Stones is like trying to get the last word in the “who really won the cold war” debate with your Marine Corps cousin. Since we can’t agree on a winner, I must defer to Diamond David Lee Roth, who so wisely stated, “It doesn’t matter if you win or lose, it’s how good you looked.” I sure as shit know who looked the best and let’s face reality; The Stones are at least 800% cooler than those wankers, The Beatles.

Unfortunately Beatles fans think they have the edge because The Stones didn’t really get red hot until The Beatles were cranking out forty studio masterpieces per year and breaking up like drama queens. But The Stones have two aces up their sleeve; scoring the soundtrack to the death of peace and love at Altamont and Their Satanic Majesties Request.

Their Satanic Majesties Request has been dismissed as wannabe Beatles psychedelic hogwash for the last four decades. Within a year of its release, The Stones followed up with Beggar’s Banquet and the world silently and collectively decided to never speak of Their Satanic Majesties Request again. Does this album represent the end of their pop period of the mid-sixties or is it really the first album of their golden era? Beats me, and while it’s not as immediate as Sticky Fingers or raunchy as Goats Head Soup, Their Satanic Majesties Request emits this fantastic vibe of gaudy unease and implicit evil that ensures no program director will ever touch it. This is what Robert Johnson would have sounded like if he sold his soul at the crossroads and then went on an LSD binge. Thankfully, The Rolling Stones oblige since LSD didn't exist back in Johnson’s day. And before I forget, it’s also got one of the creepiest album covers...ever.

In reality, it’s a giant middle finger in the face of The Beatles, but not because The Stones imitated their trippy gimmicks or psychedelic looks. This album works because its god-damned weird and generally unsettling. Ignore the fact that the songwriting goes south halfway through the album (I guess this would be on side two if it was vinyl, but even I’m not bad-ass enough to own the hologram copy.) The first five tracks get the job done just fine, and kudos to you if you have the stomach for more after that heaping helping of oddness.

So the next time you reach for Sgt. Pepper, I’m gonna choke you out with Brian Jones’ sitar strings.