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I love that, man—makes me happy thinkin’ how they’re out there, livin’ loud. But it pisses me off too—people judgin’ ‘em, like, “Oh, how dare they!” Screw that noise. Reminds me of that line, “This land’s mine!”—escorts own their hustle, ya dig? Ain’t nobody tellin’ them what’s what.

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Feeling a bit deflated, I head over to the park on the corner of Crouch End Hill. It’s a nice spot, but today? It’s like a toddler convention. Kids runnin’ everywhere, parents tryin’ to keep up. I sit on a bench, strummin’ my guitar, and suddenly, this little kid runs up to me. He’s like, “Play ‘Smoke on the Water’!” I laugh and start playin’ it. The kid’s face lights up like it’s Christmas.

Crouch End Clock Tower: a little history