In 1985, the Parents Music Resource Center launched a
full-scale assault on popular music.
They selected what they deemed the fifteen most offensive songs they
could find as examples of why the music industry needed to be closely monitored
and censored. Thankfully, Frank Zappa,
Dee Snider and John Denver staved that off.
This is a track-by-track breakdown of the songs the PRMC picked as the
so-called “filthy fifteen.”
The song.
“We’re Not Gonna Take It” by Twisted Sister. Seriously?
SERIOUSLY?! This song got flagged
on account of “violence.” The most
violent image in the whole thing is its use of the word “fight” three
times. As a point of comparison, the University
of Kentucky’s pep song is only a minute long, but uses that same word eight
times. Violence, indeed. It’s pretty clear this song was pegged for its
video which features less violence than a roadrunner cartoon and less drag than
a traditional Shakespearean play. Thirty-plus
years later, I can’t help but love the fact that a song the PRMC deemed dangerous
to children ended up as this.
What they should have chosen.
“Coward of the County” by Kenny Rogers. This song topped the country charts. It almost topped the pop charts. It got made into a movie. And it makes my skin crawl every time I hear
it. “They
took turns at Becky. There was three of
them.” In case you aren’t familiar
with the track, the subject matter is exactly what that line suggests. In the context of this narrative, any
atrocity can be resolved with a good old fashioned fist fight. Violence begets violence. Violence resolves violence. And when it does, the world is completely
right again and all problems are solved.
I think that’s a far more dangerous message than some dudes in makeup
saying “if that’s your best, your best
won’t do.”
What has come since.
“Pumped Up Kicks” by Foster the People. My daughter was eight when this song came out
and she loved it. To be fair, it has to
be the catchiest song ever written about mass homicide. Rewatching the video for this entry, I think
about my daughter (now eight years older). I think about the paranoia and lingering
vigilance that she and others her age have to endure. I think about conversations I never dreamed I
would need to have with her. I think about
how this single song disproves every single idea championed by “Coward of the
County.” I think I would much rather
just go listen to some more Twisted Sister.
