They're spoken in a girlish English accent by Poly Styrene, the band's singer and one of the most iconic figures in punk history, who died on Monday at the age of 53 after a long battle with cancer.

Styrene (born Marianne Elliot-Said on June 3, 1957) came to embody everything that punk meant to this budding teenage anarchist when I first discovered the sound of youth in revolt. More than former flatmate Johnny Rotten's sneering snarl, Joey Ramone's snub-nosed hiccup or Joe Strummer's agitated yawp, Styrene sounded like punk felt: messy, untrained, unrestrained, unafraid and uninhibited.

Her strangulated vocals, atonal, piercing, and yes, at times annoying, embodied the DIY aspect of the first wave, an explosion of anger, aimlessness, class revolt and freedom of expression that blew up in the messy blast of songs like "The Day the World Turned Day-Glo" and the pogo-ing face-punch of "I am a Poseur."

Styrene formed the band after watching the Sex Pistols perform on her 18th birthday and after just a handful of shows released "Bondage," a blistered anti-consumerist screed that was adopted by the Riot Grrrl movement of the 1990s as a clarion call for women's empowerment, sung by a bi-racial feminist who never quite cottoned to that mantle.

Everything about the group, and Styrene, spoke to the energy and spirit of first wave punk. From her off-key yelping to the seemingly incongruous saxophone honking of Lora Logic to the fact that their initial run lasted barely three years, with Styrene quitting after their first and only tour and the release of a single album, 1978's indelible Germ Free Adolescents. (It's worth noting that not one, but two bands later appropriated parts of that title for their names, the Germs and the Adolescents.)

After the fury of such tunes as "Let's Submerge" and "I Can't Do Anything," Styrene settled into a more sedate solo career and then quit the music business entirely to join the Hare Krishna sect. Her third solo album, Generation Indigo, was released last month.

In an era where female singers are expected to be model-worthy pinups parading around in barely-there outfits with vocals tweaked beyond recognition to sing generic come-ons to unseen horndogs, it's easy to be nostalgic about Styrene, who was the real deal. She made the ugly beautiful and put the beautiful on notice that the rest of us can't be bothered with their plastic world.

"I live off you/ You live off me/ And the whole world/ Lives off everybody," she sang with a bored sneer in "I Live Off You."

"See, we gotta be exploited/ See, we gotta be exploited/ By somebody, by somebody, by somebody."

The name might not ring a bell for you, but along with Woody Guthrie and Pete Seeger, the one-named singer — who passed away Tuesday of heart disease at the age of 77 — was one of the giants of the folk world. Her deep, haunting tones made her one of the voices of the civil-rights movement in the 1960s.

Born Odetta Holmes in Birmingham, Alabama, on December 31, 1930, at the height of the Depression, the singer's musical style was formed by the prison and work songs of the era recorded in the fields of the Deep South, according to a New York Times obituary. "They were liberation songs," she told the paper in 2007. "You're walking down life's road, society's foot is on your throat, every which way you turn you can't get from under that foot. And you reach a fork in the road, and you can either lie down and die or insist upon your life."

After moving to Los Angeles with her mother in 1937 following her father's death, the young singer discovered her voice by listening to blues, jazz and folk music, eventually earning a classical-music degree from Los Angeles City College.

Performing everywhere from small coffeehouses to Carnegie Hall, Odetta's landmark albums of blues and ballads influenced everyone from Bob Dylan and Joan Baez to blues-rock belter Janis Joplin. But it was her rendition of the slavery-age song "O Freedom" performed at Martin Luther King Jr.'s March on Washington in August 1963 that cemented her status as one of the musical touchstones of the civil-rights movement. The Times said that Rosa Parks, who started the boycott of segregated buses in Montgomery, Alabama, by famously refusing to give up her seat, was asked once which songs meant the most to her and she answered, "All of the songs Odetta sings."

She was awarded the National Endowment for the Arts Medal of the Arts and Humanities in 1999 by President Bill Clinton, was a Kennedy Center honoree in 2004 and was reportedly hoping to sing at President-elect Barack Obama's inauguration on January 20.

Legendary on the West Coast for solo classics such as "Ain't No Future in Yo' Frontin'" and collaborations with superstars such Tupac Shakur ("I Gotta Get Mine"), Flint, MI native MC Breed died Saturday, his publicist confirmed. He was 36 years old.

Breed was rushed to the hospital in early September for kidney failure. The rapper was on life support for two days before slightly recovering. In late September, he conducted a phone interview with his publicist Jonathan Hay where he talked about his health crisis.

"The doctor told me my kidney was insulted and stopped filtering what I was taking in," Breed said at the time.

Breed also talked about coming with a new album, boasting his skills were as sharp as ever. Before he passed away, Breed was in the process of inking a deal with Ichiban Records, according to his camp. His rep also tells us Breed's album was to be called "Mc Breed - The Original Swag" and had lined up features from Too-Short, Erotic D, Ant Banks and others. The D.O.C was also writing records with him.

Our very own Sway Calloway was a friend of Breed and definitely has fond memories of some of their interactions. Here, he gives a little insight to his buddy as an artist and person.

I can honestly say that no rapper at the time made more people aware of the Midwest than MX Breed. The songs "Future in Your Frontin" and "Gotta Get Mine" with Tupac exploded around the country like an e-mail blast! I played "Future in Your Frontin" every day on KMEL. People in the Bay initially thought he was from there! The Dr. Dre-styled beat was competitive with street anthems around the country, but his lyrical delivery had an early universal swagger. He talked about a region in this country that was still trying to break through. It was refreshing, and the video was an introduction to a new world. Breed was important to the evolution of the rap game because he proved that Midwest rappers can make hits and sell records. He put Flint on the map. Breed, Common, Twista, Crucial Conflict, Da Brat were some of the early pioneers to open doors for the Midwest. I'm glad I had a chance to interview him at a time when his career was first taking off. One more soldier to R.I.P.

The name may not be instantly recognizable, but chances are you're familiar with Finn's work. He mixed Green Day's 1994 release Dookie and their 1995 LP Insomniac, and produced Rancid's breakthrough disc ...And Out Come the Wolves. He also helmed records by Blink-182, the Vandals, Fastball, Madness, MxPx, Sum 41, Sparta, Alkaline Trio and Bad Religion.

Finn will always be remembered, in my mind at least, for mixing Jawbreaker's 1995 offering Dear You. But more than that, for me, he'll always be the dude who worked with AFI on their two smash hits, 2003's Sing the Sorrow and 2006's Decemberunderground, two records that brought the band out of obscurity and straight to TRL. The man will be missed.

Do you have a favorite Jerry Finn-produced album? Let us know about it in the comments section below.