The radio edits that defined us

May younger generations never have to listen to a "clean" song again

For the most part, I’d hate to be a young person right now. Impossible housing prices, a rapidly uninhabitable world, jobs that require hustle and offer little stability, dating apps—these are just a few of the obstacles that young people face.

But when it comes to hearing uncensored music, Gen Z doesn’t know how good they have it. Before streaming, our exposure to new music was mostly relegated to radio and MTV. And since most radio stations had to abide by FCC regulations, they couldn’t play anything deemed “obscene,” including all the good swear words. The result? Radio edits, or songs that had been edited or altered to adhere to the FCC standards. 

Growing up, there were few things that bummed me out more than having to sit through a clean version of a song, but now I find the technical workarounds fascinating. Whoever was tasked with making Rage Against the Machine’s “Killing in the Name” safe for radio deserves...well, not props, but at least some acknowledgement of their skill. And for better or worse (mostly worse) some of those became the definitive version of the song for me. 

Here are the clean versions that will haunt me forever. 

(PS, I know people are still making clean versions of songs [Cardi B’s “WAP” becoming “Wet and Gushy” is probably the best] but it’s not nearly as difficult to hear the original). 

Bush looking for their slackhole brother on “Everything Zen”

If you only knew Bush from the songs they played on the radio, you’d believe that Bush was a good band. But have you listened to the other songs on Sixteen Stone recently? More like Sucksteen Stone, amirite? When I first heard “Everything Zen” I was 10 or 11, and honestly, it scared me. The ominous guitar intro, the noirish bass line, the visceral phrase “there’s no sex in your violence”—it felt like the song was rated R, and I was not old enough to listen to it. But the radio edit does the song dirty. In the first verse, Gavin Rossdale sings about flying to Los Angeles to find his “asshole brother”, which turned into “slackhole brother” on the radio. Slackhole? The fuck? What’s a slackhole? It’s a small edit that not many people noticed or cared about, but it opened me up to the conundrum of semantics. Why can you say ass (i.e. New Radicals singing “We’ll come around and kick your asses!”), but not asshole? Why not just edit out the word “hole”? Such are the thoughts of a young slackhole. 

Everlast’s robotic squeals on “What It’s Like” 

Hate to admit this, but I think “What It’s Like” is a good song. I liked it when it came out, and I still like it. Sad rap paired with evocative descriptions of everyday trauma? Here for it! Despite this song being ubiquitous in its heyday, I had no idea what Mr. Last was singing about until years later when I heard the unedited version. Until then, I thought he was just accompanied by mini robots or dentist drills or tiny cars peeling out or a whoopie cushion from the Terminator universe. What makes the edited version of the song even better (?) is liberal use of these tiny squeals, editing out words as innocuous as “green”, “stacks”, and “balls”. Lay off the friggin errrch censorship, Whitey! 

Bloodhound Gang’s assy “Fire Water Burn” 

If a thousand 13-year-old boys on a thousand typewriters were tasked with creating the best rock band in history, the result would be Bloodhound Gang. That is to say Bloodhound Gang are not good. Like, at all. But if you’re a gross prepubescent boy with a penchant for mean humor, they’re amazing. “Fire Water Burn” was fun to hear on the radio partly because singer Jimmy Pop had a droll, clear voice and delivered his rhymes at a rate where you could anticipate each punchline, but the clean version was also great because it used donkey sounds to bleep out “Burn, motherfucker. Burn.” The music video even anticipated the edit, timing each bleep to correspond with an old pantomiming a fart. Suffice to say, there’s a lot of ass in the cleaned up version, and 13-year-old-me loved it. 

Eminem’s appreciation for Les Claypool on “My Name Is Slim Shady”

Every Eminem single has to go through the ringer to make it safe for radio play, but there’s one edit that’s so amazing that it stands out. I’m talking about the first line in “My Name Is,” when Mr. Shady asks “Do you like Primus?” This was my introduction to Eminem. Being a voracious Primus fan throughout middle school, the idea that an emerging rapper had the same music tastes was mind blowing. Perhaps I could be friends with this Eminem, I thought. Seems like such a nice fellow with similar interests! Turns out the real lyric is “Do you like violence?” which is not so nice. But in context with the rest of the verse—which references ‘90s acts Nine Inch Nails and Spice GIrls—”Primus” actually fits better. Come with me, Em, let’s sail the seas of cheese together. 

MIA’s defanged “Paper Planes” 

“Paper Planes” was released a decade later than all of the songs on this list, landing in a musical landscape that was vastly different. With the advent of Youtube, MP3s, and Myspace music profiles, radio stations were no longer the gatekeepers for new music, so thousands had heard the song before it became part of the zeitgeist (thanks to its prominent placement in Slumdog Millionaire), and then it became impossible not to hear it on the radio. For me, the edited “Paper Planes” is like asking your parents for something at the store and they respond with “We have_____at home.” The gunshot sound effects—which pack a visceral punch when considering MIA’s intent—are edited out, replaced with muted explosions, and the gun cocking sound becomes a guy saying “boom!” Turns out the “Paper Planes” we have at home just kind of sucks. 

Korn “A.D.I.D.A.S”: somehow worse than the original

The radio edit of “A.D.I.D.A.S” is a work of art. Seriously. It’s the only example of corporate meddling that actually made the song more disgusting than the original. For those who are unfamiliar with the track, it showcases the band’s skill for mining fifth grade urban legends for song fodder—in this case, the notion that ADIDAS stands for “all day I dream about sex.” It’s a funny concept for a song, but in Korn’s hands, it’s just kinda scary, gross, and unintentionally funny (see also: Korn’s “Shoots and Ladders”). It’s hard enough to listen to Jonathan Davis moan “All day I dream about fuuuuucking”, but it’s even worse/better in the radio version, which replaces “fucking” with “humping.” And the way Davis sings the word “humping”—like some porcine orgasm—is good at destroying your ability to find anything sexy ever again. Just a one-way ticket to shudderville. Good job, censors, you finally made Korn as repellant as they always sought to be.

Are there any edits that are ingrained in your soul? I’d love to hear about them. Put them in the comments. 

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I’m hosting trivia at Nate’s Garden Grill (3120 Euclid Ave) this Thursday, 6 p.m. sharp! Get your teams together and study up! It’s free, and kids and dogs are welcome. Hope to see you there! 

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