What was the first banned song to go to number one?
They say the notion of cancel culture is an invention of the social media age, but when you look back over the scores of banned songs from decades gone by, you could definitely beg to differ. You would be forgiven for thinking that the 1960s was not so much of an archaic era compared to, say, the Victorians, but when it came to music and especially public airplay, the first hint of a sexual reference would see many a tune cast off to the sonic graveyard.
While the powers that be may have thought they had the deciding say, naturally, there’s always at least one section of the population who have an electric sense of rebellion. As such, the ever-growing list of banned songs throughout the ‘60s became a mark of revolution for many, subsequently vaulting those artists to new prolific heights as martyrs of the cause.
Where the likes of The Beatles’ ‘A Day in the Life’ gained iconic status for its covert dirty inferences, another song was much more forthcoming in its approach and was consequently labelled as a prime offender on the banned songs hitlist. But the masses clearly had to make their point known, as through the strength of their sheer willpower, they made it the first banned song to reach number one.
The song in question was ‘Je T’aime’ by Serge Gainsbourg, a 1967 declaration of absolute romance written for Gainsbourg’s then girlfriend, Brigitte Bardot. The most famous version of the streamy tune, however, was sung two years later alongside British actor Jane Birkin, which went a long way in it securing the pole position atop the UK charts, being the first foreign language song to achieve the feat.
In that sense, Gainsbourg knew exactly what game he was playing at. Clearly not one to branch out against the cultural grain, the song and subsequent video for it are, put simply, a bigger stereotype than you ever thought was possible. Of course, they do say Paris is the city of love, but in ‘Je T’aime’ we quite literally have it staring us right in the face as Gainsbourg and Birkin are seen caressing under the Eiffel Tower. Subtle was his middle name.
Cheesy, yes, but none of this screams absolutely of a violation that saw the song outright banned. Well, maybe we’re just too won over by the romance of the French accent – or the fact that we don’t actually know what they’re saying – because the translation of the lyrics is, let’s just say, not the safest for work. It was most likely the novelty of this that sent the song sailing to number one, but which by the same token saw it roundly banished into the land of the banned.
To that end, is it really a surprise that some eight years after its most esteemed release, in 1976, Gainsbourg struck again when directing Birkin in an adult pornographic film of the same name? If it hadn’t already been banned from the mainstream, it definitely would have been then.
