The Beatles ("White Album") [1968]

So if "Sgt Pepper" was the beginning of the end, the pretentiously-unnamed double-album follow-up (not including the wretched "Magical Mystery Tour"), known as "The White Album" (I'll say it's white -- you can't dance to anything on here!), was when the wheels really started coming off for the Beatles. Collaboration was now officially a thing of the past, and Ringo quitting temporarily led to a massive flower purchase that cut into Yoko's future bereavement fund. George Harrison doesn't even bother sticking with just the guitar players in his own band, and his laconic grooves make his songs seem so freaking long by this point, that tight leash kept on him finally makes sense. John, meanwhile, finally ends the pretense that his drug of choice was something other than skag. And Paul is still hopelessly, inexplicably buried in his collection of 10" vinyl and soft-soap chickie-babe come-ons. The White Album is really a sad listen; these guys can't even rock out anymore unless there's some sort of gimmick. And all this before discussing the failed art experiment freakout of "Revolution #9," the most egregious example of song filler ever committed to vinyl. Looking for proof the 60's were overrated? It's all right here, folks.