I dig most of this

Punk, what is punk? What does it mean? Who’s the first punk band? Who’s king of the punks? Who’s this, who’s that? Stuff all that. I don’t know what that title meant in the first place. It just appeared one day in Melody Maker Magazine, a journalist called Caroline Coon with a picture of me, I can’t remember what was next to it, some other duffo article. But it had “King of the Punks” and my face, I was furious. I had no idea. Punk? What? I’m being labeled now, being given a category, by people I haven’t even spoken to, who haven’t asked me. No, I’m a human being. I don’t like categories. When I buy music, I don’t go to the this section and then that section. List it by names not categories.

Those categories are killing us all, killing us off. And somehow they created a new market of crossover acts that combine this category with that category and that’s a false genre. You understand, that’s like, that’s like a wisp of two other shadows put together, you don’t need it. You should have your own original thoughts, first and foremost. Why are the Sex Pistols original, why is PIL original? Why is anything we do original? Cause we’re no good. We can’t copy, bugger all. And you shouldn’t need to. The power and glory of music is that it’s an honest thought. It’s not about note perfect, it never ever has been, all the best music in the world is practically nearly unmusical. It’s about feeling, drama, content. If you want to know what punk is its real emotion, it’s not studded belts, and legs apart and tuff looks and silly eye-liner make-up. That isn’t punk. That’s plunk.

- John Lydon (Johnny Rotten)