Gil Scott-Heron died yesterday in Harlem.

I don't know about you, but there's nothing more soothing than listening to Neil Young's high nasal on a hot summer day while cruising the streets of Philadelphia at full volume in my 1998 Nissan Maxima as everyone on the streets turn their heads to gawk at the kid who isn't playing Rihanna or Drake or whoever the cool new hip hop artists of today are.