April 11, 2021:

She knocked on my door after two songs to ask if I liked it.

It was Exile on Main Street, which she'd bought for me an hour earlier at Fed Mart on Kearney Mesa. On or near release day, 12 May 1972, an event I'd anticipated with tremendous excitement.

My first moments with it were disorienting. It has that sound. And that vibe. Sloppy grooves, half-finished. Rockin' hard but subtly grotesque, singing of addiction and impotence and hallucination.

There were no iconic hits on offer, like "Gimme Shelter" or "Brown Sugar". This was different. It was urgent, and sad, a record about impending doom.

Where those first moments turned from shock to exhilaration.

"Oh my god yes," I answered her. "The first two tracks are on fire."