When we think of silence, we think of med-i-ta-tive stretch-es of calm: hikes through desert-ed for-est paths, an ear-ly morn-ing sun-set before the world awakes, a stay-ca-tion at home with a good book. But we know oth-er silences: awk-ward silences, omi-nous silences, and—in the case of John Cage’s infa-mous con-cep-tu-al piece 4’33”—a mys-ti-fy-ing silence that asks us to lis-ten, not to noth-ing, but to every-thing. Instead of focus-ing our aur-al atten-tion, Cage’s for-mal-ized exer-cise in lis-ten-ing dis-pers-es it, to the ner-vous coughs and squeak-ing shoes of a rest-less audi-ence, the cease-less ebb and flow of traf-fic and breath-ing, the ambi-ent white noise of heat-ing and AC…

and the sus-pend-ed black noise of death met-al….

We’re used to see-ing 4’33” “per-formed” as a clas-si-cal exer-cise, with a dig-ni-fied pianist seat-ed at the bench, osten-ta-tious-ly turn-ing the pages of Cage’s “score.” But there’s no rea-son at all the exercise—or hoax, some insist—can’t work in any genre, includ-ing met-al. NPR’s All Songs TV brings us the video above, in which “64 years after its debut per-for-mance by pianist David Tudor,” death met-al band Dead Ter-ri-to-ry lines behind their instru-ments, tunes up, and takes on Cage: “There’s a set-up, earplugs go in, a brief gui-tar chug, a drum-stick count-off and… silence.”

As in every per-for-mance of 4’33”, we’re drawn not only to what we hear, in this case the sounds in what-ev-er room we watch the video, but also to what we see. And watch-ing these five met-al-heads, who are so used to deliv-er-ing a con-tin-u-ous assault, nod their heads solemn-ly in silence for over four min-utes adds yet anoth-er inter-pre-tive lay-er to Cage’s exper-i-ment, ask-ing us to con-sid-er the per-for-ma-tive avant-garde as a domain fit not only for rar-i-fied clas-si-cal and art house audi-ences but for every-one and any-one.

Also, despite their seri-ous-ness, NPR reminds us that Dead Territory’s take is “anoth-er in a long line of 4′33″ per-for-mances that under-stand Cage had a sense of humor while expand-ing our musi-cal uni-verse.” Cage hap-pi-ly gave his exper-i-ments to the world to adapt and impro-vise as it sees fit, and—as we see in his own per-for-mance of 4’33” in Har-vard Square—he was hap-py to make his own changes to silence as well.

Relat-ed Con-tent:

John Cage Per-forms His Avant-Garde Piano Piece 4’33” … in 1’22” (Har-vard Square, 1973)

See the Curi-ous Score for John Cage’s “Silent” Zen Com-po-si-tion 4’33”

Stream a Free 65-Hour Playlist of John Cage Music and Dis-cov-er the Full Scope of His Avant-Garde Com-po-si-tions

Josh Jones is a writer and musi-cian based in Durham, NC. Fol-low him at @jdmagness

In 1958, Link Wray released his bluesy instru-men-tal “Rum-ble,” known for its pio-neer-ing use of reverb and dis-tor-tion. The grit-ty, seduc-tive tune became a huge hit with the kids, but grown-ups found the sound threat-en-ing, rem-i-nis-cent of scary gang scenes in West Side Sto-ry and grow-ing fears over “Juve-nile Delinquency”—a nation-al anx-i-ety marked by the 1955 release of Black-board Jun-gle and its intro-duc-tion of Bill Haley’s “Rock Around the Clock.”

Just three years lat-er, “Rum-ble” made mid-dle class cit-i-zens so ner-vous that the song has the dis-tinc-tion of being the only instru-men-tal ever banned from radio play in the U.S. And yet, that hon-or is some-what mis-lead-ing. It’s true many radio sta-tions refused to play the song, or any rock and roll records at all, but it did receive enough exposure—from peo-ple like Amer-i-can Band-stand’s Dick Clark, no less—to remain in the top 40 for ten weeks in 1958.

Fast-for-ward thir-ty years from Black-board Jun-gle pan-ic, and we find the coun-try in the midst of anoth-er nation-al freak-out about the kids and their music, this one spear-head-ed by the Par-ents Music Resource Cen-ter (PMRC), formed by Tip-per Gore and three oth-er so-called “Wash-ing-ton Wives” who sought to place warn-ing labels on “explic-it” pop-u-lar albums and oth-er-wise impose moral-is-tic guide-lines on music and movies. Con-gres-sion-al hear-ings in 1985 saw the odd trio of Twist-ed Sister’s Dee Snider, mild-man-nered folk star John Den-ver, and vir-tu-oso prog-weirdo Frank Zap-pa tes-ti-fy-ing before the Sen-ate against cen-sor-ship. The fierce-ly lib-er-tar-i-an Zappa’s oppo-si-tion to the PMRC became some-thing of a cru-sade, and the fol-low-ing year he appeared on Cross-fire to argue his case.

PMRC back-lash from musi-cians every-where began to clut-ter the pop cul-tur-al land-scape. Glenn Danzig released his anti-PMRC anthem, “Moth-er”; Ice?T’s The Iceberg/Freedom of Speech vicious-ly attacked Gore and her orga-ni-za-tion; NOFX released their E.P. The P.M.R.C. Can Suck on This… just a small sam-pling of dozens of anti-PMRC songs/albums/messages after those infa-mous hear-ings. But we can cred-it Zap-pa with found-ing the musi-cal sub-gen-era in his 1985 Frank Zap-pa Meets the Moth-ers of Pre-ven-tion, which includ-ed “Porn Wars,” above, a mashup of dis-tort-ed sam-ples from the hear-ings.

All of these records received the req-ui-site “Good House-keep-ing Seal of Dis-ap-proval,” the now-famil-iar stark black-and-white parental warn-ing label (top). Zappa’s album cov-er pre-empt-ed the inevitable stick-er-ing with a bright yel-low and red box read-ing “Warn-ing Guar-an-tee,” full of tongue-in-cheek small print like  “GUARANTEED NOT TO CAUSE ETERNAL TORMENT IN THE PLACE WHERE THE GUY WITH THE HORNS AND POINTED STICK CONDUCTS HIS BUSINESS.” All this inces-sant needling of the PMRC must have real-ly got to them, fans fig-ured, when Zappa’s 1986 record Jazz from Hell began appear-ing, it’s said, in record stores with a parental advi-so-ry label—on an album with-out lyrics of any kind.

But did Zappa’s Gram-my-award-win-ning instru-men-tal record (above) real-ly get the explic-it con-tent label? And was such label-ing retal-i-a-tion from the PMRC, as some believed? These claims have cir-cu-lat-ed for years on mes-sage boards, in books like Peter Blecha’s Taboo Tunes: A His-to-ry of Banned Bands & Cen-sored Songs, and on Wikipedia. And the answer is both yes, and no. Jazz from Hell did not get the famil-iar “Parental Advi-so-ry: Explic-it Lyrics” label, nor was it specif-i-cal-ly tar-get-ed by Gore’s orga-ni-za-tion.

The album was, how-ev-er, stick-ered in 1990—notes Dave Thompson’s The Music Lover’s Guide to Record Col-lect-ing—by “the Pacif-ic North-west chain of Fred Mey-er depart-ment stores,” who gave it “the retailer’s own ‘Explic-it Lyrics’ warn-ing, despite the fact that the album was whol-ly instru-men-tal.” This is like-ly due to the word “hell” and the title of the song “G?Spot Tor-na-do.” So it may be fair to say that Zap-pa’s Jazz from Hell is the only ful-ly instru-men-tal album to receive an “Explic-it Lyrics” warn-ing, inspired by, if not direct-ly ordered by, the PMRC. Like the radio cen-sor-ship of Link Wray’s “Rum-ble,” this region-al seal of dis-ap-proval did not in the least pre-vent the record from receiv-ing due recog-ni-tion. But it makes for a curi-ous his-tor-i-cal exam-ple of the absurd lengths peo-ple have gone to in their fear of mod-ern pop music.

Relat-ed Con-tent:

Frank Zap-pa Debates Cen-sor-ship on CNN’s Cross-fire (1986)

Frank Zappa’s Exper-i-men-tal Adver-tise-ments For Luden’s Cough Drops, Rem-ing-ton Razors & Port-land Gen-er-al Elec-tric

Hear the Musi-cal Evo-lu-tion of Frank Zap-pa in 401 Songs

Josh Jones is a writer and musi-cian based in Durham, NC. Fol-low him at @jdmagness