Losing Haringey Songtext
von The Clientele

In those days there was a kind of fever
That pushed me out of the front door
Into the pale exhaust fumes parked by Broadwater Farm
Or the grubby road that eventually leads to Enfield
Turkish supermarkets after chicken restaurant after spare parts shop

Everything in my life felt like it was coming to a mysterious close
I could hardly walk to the end of the street
Without feeling there was no way to go except back
The dates I′d had that summer had come to nothing
My job was a dead end and the rent check
Was killing me a little more each month
It seemed unlikely that anything could hold much longer
The only question left to ask was what would
Happen after everything familiar collapsed


But for now the summer stretched between me and that moment
It was ferociously hot and the air quality became so bad
That by the evening the noise of nearby
Trains stuttered in in fits and starts
Distorted through the shifting air
As I lay in my room I could hear my neighbours discussing
The World Cup and opening beers in their gardens
On the other side someone was singing
An Arabic prayer through the thin wall

I had no money for the pub so I decided to go for a walk

I found myself wandering aimlessly to the west
Past a terrace of chip and kebab shops
And laundrettes near the tube station
I crossed the street and headed into virgin territory
I'd never been this way before
Gravel-dashed houses alternated with square 60s offices
And the white pavements undulated with cracks and litter
I walked and walked because there was nothing else for me to do
And by degrees the light began to fade

The mouth of an avenue led me to the verge of a
Long greasy A-road that rose up in the far distance
With symmetrical terraces falling steeply down
Then up again from the distant railway station

There were four benches to my right
Interspersed with those strange bushes that grow in the area
Whose blossoms are so pale yellow they
Seem translucent, almost spectral


And suddenly tired I sat down
I held my head in my hands, feeling like shit
But a sudden breeze escaped from the terraces
And for a moment I lost my thoughts in its unexpected coolness
I looked up and I realised I was sitting in a photograph

I remembered clearly
This photograph was taken by my mother in
1982 Outside our front garden in Hampshire
It was slightly underexposed

I was still sitting on the bench
But the colours and the planes of the
Road and horizon had become the photo
If I looked hard I could see the lines of
The window ledge in the original photograph
Were now composed by a tree branch and
The silhouetted edge of a grass verge
The sheen of the flash on the window was replicated by bonfire smoke
Drifting infinitesimally slowly from behind a fence

My sister′s face had been dimly visible behind the window
And yes, there were pale stars far off to the west
That traced out the lines of a toddler's eyes and mouth

When I look back at this there's nothing to grasp, no starting point
I was inside an underexposed photo from 1982
But I was also sitting on a bench in Harringay

Strongest of all was the feeling of 1982-ness
Dizzy, illogical, as if none of the intervening
Disasters and wrong turns had happened yet
I felt guilty and inconsolably sad
I felt the instinctive tug back
To school, the memory of shopping malls, cooking
Driving in my mother′s car
All gone, gone forever

I just sat there for a while
I was so tired that I didn′t bother
Trying to work out what was going on
I was happy just to sit in the photo while it lasted
Which wasn't for long anyway

The light faded, the wind caught the smoke
The stars dimmed under the glare of the streetlamps
I got up and walked away from the squat
Little benches and an oncoming gang of kids
A bus was rumbling to my rescue down the hill
With a great big fire Alexandra Palace on its front
And I realised I did want a drink after all