Talking To A About Electro

I’m talking to A about electro. I quite like A. She’s looking at me the way you indulge a child who’s learned a new word, and with a slight superiority. She’s smiling in a half grimace, head tilted slightly. She means well, though.

I’m going on about Frankie Knuckles. I do not know if A likes Frankie Knuckles. I’m not sure if A has ever heard Frankie Knuckles. I’m uncertain if A is confused because she thinks Frankie Knuckles is an East End gangster from the Krays era, and not a proponent of eighties electro.

I realise that even though I’m stone cold sober, I’m waffling. I’m going on and on about the absence of Frankie Knuckles on tonight’s playlist. I’m wondering why I’m even fixating on Frankie Knuckles. He was all right, Frankie Knuckles. A just grimaces, and I can’t blame her. The show begins, and indeed, no Frankie Knuckles is played.

Later, I go home and play ‘Your Love’ by the eighties New York electro pioneer Frankie Knuckles. It’s a banger. I however, am a certifiable twat.