The Daily Telegraph - Features
How a Marlborough-schooled son of a KC became the world’s hottest DJ
Millions are flocking to see Fred Again, whose graft and talent transcend his posh roots. By Laura Craik
It’s Monday night at London’s Alexandra Palace and emotions are running high, both inside and outside the 10,000-capacity venue. “Please,” says one fan, weeping as security guards explain that no ticket means no entry. Inside, Romeo Beckham, his model girlfriend Mia Regan and a sea of mainly Gen Z cohorts are moshing out, brows sweating, phones aloft, singing along as a tall, gangly bloke in a baggy white Uniqlo T-shirt crouches over his mixing desk with an expression halfway between agony and ecstasy.
They’re watching Fred Again – real name, Fred Gibson – a 30-year-old south London composer, DJ and producer whose emotional brand of electronic dance music has turned him into a global superstar.
When Selena Gomez recently posted a photo of her and Fred to her 429million Instagram followers, she sent the rumour mill into overdrive, while other fans include Jodie Comer and Emma Corrin.
Tickets for his four London dates sold out in under two minutes, as they did for all 22 dates of a tour that will see him play in cities including Paris, Berlin, New York and LA.
His critics would opine it’s fitting that Fred has chosen to start his tour at Alexandra Palace. After all, “he’s basically King Charles”, according to one Reddit commenter. For Fred – full name, Frederick John Philip Gibson – is the son of King’s Counsel barrister Charles Anthony Warneford Gibson and Mary Ann Frances Morgan, both members of the British peerage, and the greatgrandson of Ann Fleming, wife of Bond author Ian Fleming.
That he was educated at Marlborough College, the £40,000-a-year private school whose alumni includes the Princess of Wales, has led to charges that he is a “nepo baby”, his success handed to him on a silver mixing desk by his well-connected parents.
Granted, Gibson benefitted from a private education, though his career path is far removed from his father’s (if anyone can explain what sway a KC has in the world of dance music, feel free).
The only charge of nepotism Gibson’s critics can levy is that he had an early mentor in Brian Eno, the legendary producer whose a cappella group he joined aged 16, and who was a nearby neighbour. Nepotism or opportunism?
Wham’s Andrew Ridgeley was a neighbour of Mark Dean, owner of the Innervision record label, to whom he gave an early demo tape in the 1980s. Never has Ridgeley been called a nepo baby.
Even if Gibson did have the best possible start in life, his success has been earned with hard graft and talent that transcend his posh beginnings. It’s salient that Brian Eno has described their relationship as “more of a two-way street”.
His first major success was with the megahit Shotgun, co-written with George Ezra in 2018. The same year saw him co-write songs for Clean Bandit and Rita Ora; he’s also worked with Stormzy, FKA Twigs, BTS and Little Mix. Such is his heft that he had a hand in one third of the UK’s No 1 singles in 2019. Gibson wrote and co-produced 12 of the 15 tracks on Ed Sheeran’s fourth album, and in 2020 he won producer of the year at the Brit Awards, the youngest ever to win.
Yet none of these are the reasons that people love Gibson. “I don’t want to s--- on something that matters to people, but it’s just not why I do it,” he said in an interview.
People love Gibson because he is sincere. In the frequently po-faced, serious arena of electronic dance music, he DJs with a smile on his face, at one with the crowd rather than above them on a platform. At one point during Monday’s gig, the crowd parted as he headed to the middle of the auditorium. He interacts with fans on TikTok and Instagram in a genuinely collaborative way, recently asking his 1.7 million Instagram followers to send him specific video footage, now used in his tour visuals.
He posts snippets of tracks he’s working on, asking followers to name their favourite. It’s what led him to release his current single, adore u. Searingly emotional (“I want this played at my wedding” was a common fan response), it showcases not only Gibson’s skill as a composer, but the vocal talents of the Nigerian artist Obongjayar (real name: Steven Umoh), without whose skills the record couldn’t exist.
As the parent of two teenagers, I’m older than Gibson’s core Gen Z fans. But his music is the first in a long time to feel as urgent, euphoric and visceral as the house music I grew up with.
One of the nicest things about Gibson is that he pays it forward. What you sense he truly loves isn’t working with successful names, but with those for whom success has proved more elusive. His collaborations are ongoing, and fully credited. In an era when too many borrow and steal, Gibson’s integrity feels important. So does his gratitude: Monday’s gig was full of heartfelt “thank yous” to the crowd and he’s also assiduous in sharing the love he receives, asking the crowd to shout out (thank) Tony Friend, his mixing/ DJ/sampling partner.
While his fanbase soared after Glastonbury this year, the bulk of his fans discovered Fred over lockdown, when human connection was short and distant, behind a screen. It’s hard to explain the significance of his Actual Life albums among those left lonely and disenfranchised by the pandemic: suffice to say they touched a nerve, or rather, an artery. But if the songs were deeply emotional, so too was their presentation. In a 2022 interview with Zane Lowe, he explained how he was interested in taking “very fleeting moments and trying to expose as much beauty as is in them”. He collects audio and video samples with forensic obsession, tracking down the owner of clips he’s seen online and asking for permission to use them. He’ll also video record people he meets, such as Carlos, a construction worker whose “we gon[na] make it through” became the foundation of a song, and whose words became a rallying cry over lockdown and beyond – so much so that some fans went on to have the phrase tattooed on their flesh.
However fancy his background, the DJ’s intentions are humble. Fred just wants to give people a marvellous night.
People love him because he is sincere. He DJs with a smile on his face, at one with the crowd