A WHITER SHADE OF FEAR

A WHITER SHADE OF FEAR:

 "She had read, of course, about the rock-n-roll concerts at which teenagers rioted and behaved like hoodlums but somehow Foothills, snuggled peacefully below the San Gabriel mountains, with the strictest zoning code in Los Angeles County and a proud sense of well-to-do civilized camaraderie, had seemed impervious to what surely was only a fad, a new generation of teenagers screaming for its Frankie. She hadn’t thought that all this chaotic energy, the loud incoherent music and hysterical responding, was associated in any way with sex beyond the normal anxieties of puberty, not even by the gyrations of Elvis Presley, the assumed lasciviousness of which seemed to her to be greatly exaggerated. But now to learn that songs were being titled Baby Let Me Bang Your Box: the directness there was terrifying."

My 1975 short story set against the rise of rock and roll.