BANNED!

What would rock 'n' roll be without the power to shock, shake a fist, scream at the status quo, get naked, get angry . . . feel righteously aggrieved at the world's many injustices? It would be elevator music, and we would all be zombies staggering along life's treadmill in a state of full, soporific compliance. So shake off those shackles, rebels, crank up the volume and wave two defiant fingers at the man who deigned to ban Rage Against the Machine's prolonged howl at endemic corruption, "Killing in the Name", in all its talent-show-era revivalist glory, and pull a virtual moonie as the Sex Pistols serenade the monarchy with "God Save the Queen".

Lulu inadvertently places a bombshell in a time machine, in Next Steps.

Songs get banned for a variety of reasons and, at first listen, it's practically impossible to find offense in Lulu's perky 1969 Eurovision Song Contest entry "Boom Bang a Bang" (which was voted to a four-way tie for first place) — turns out that the problem wasn't some tenuous allusion to sex, but a coincidental association with war: the BBC removed it from the airwaves more than two decades after its original release, during the 1991 Gulf conflict. Easier to see is the fear of expletives that led the BBC to blacklist the Dead Kennedys' punk classic "Too Drunk to F**k," but you have to analyse the lyrics pretty closely to work out exactly why Pete Shelley's "Homosapien" got the chop.

One man and his little ukulele . . . what could be offensive about that? Find out in Deep Cuts.

While punk and rap have picked up their fair share of bans (check out our offerings from 2 Live Crew, Plies and the Anti Nowhere League), censure is not the exclusive preserve of the overtly provocative outfits that arrived after the advent of the electric guitar and the social revolution of the '60s. As tame as it sounds to modern ears, the repertoire of music hall and movie legend George Formby — including "With My Little Ukulele in My Hand" — was judged to contain innuendoes that took him beyond the pale, while American bandleader Johnny Messner offended delicate sensibilities with his cheeky 1939 celebration of picked cherries, "She Had to Go and Lose It at the Astor".

Over the years, songs have been banned for a plethora of reasons, and many of those justifications were a product of their time, like the alleged "morbid curiosity" that prompted the BBC to put the kibosh on Mike Berry's 1961 hit, "Tribute to Buddy Holly". Or Auntie Beeb's desire to throw a bucket of cold water on the flames of teenage promiscuity fanned by the Rolling Stones' on "Let's Spend the Night Together" (1967). Sometimes an artist may cause offence by laying down biographical narratives with hard-hitting language (NWA's "Straight Outta Compton" and "F**k Tha Police"), or venturing into politically sensitive areas ("Invisible Sun" by the Police) or just by faking what comes naturally ("Je t'aime moi non plus") — whatever the reason, cynical or genuine, these artists are exercising their right to free speech . . . whether they should be banned, or not, is just a matter of opinion.