Introducing me to the world of Fred again is probably the best thing my Spotify algorithm has ever done for me. It happened through a random shuffle suggestion, because I had looked up – for work purposes – one of the songs he had produced. It’s very rare that something accidentally gets thrown at you and you’re instantly like: „How is this exactly what I needed right now?“
The first of Fred again’s three „Actual Life“ albums was released in the spring of 2021, in the midst of the pandemic. To me, it filled a void that had started to unravel inside of me, caused by the constant repetition of slightly lifted, then once again prolonged lockdowns. There was the propulsion of electronic dance music I didn’t even know I had missed for so long. But also the tackling of fundamental, universal problems we were all struggling with at that time. The deprivation of communal joy like dancing or simply being around other people. The loss of a loved one. But also the idea of enjoying the small, uplifting moments, like seeing the face of a dear friend, even if it was only via Facetime. And the music. Nobody can take the music from you, even in a time of such devastating silence. I found myself thinking: who is this Fred and why does he know exactly what I am dealing with right now?
Three years later, Fred Gibson, the man behind the moniker Fred again, has become a global superstar. It is an interesting phenomenon: there seem to be just as many people who have never heard of him, as those desperately trying to get tickets for his live shows. This summer, Fred again was the first electronic artist ever to headline the main stage of the prestigious UK festival Reading & Leeds. He played his first stadium show at the Los Angeles Coliseum, which sold out within minutes. There seems to be no limit to the number of people Fred again can draw to his shows, which is why I recently, lovingly, called him „The Taylor Swift of Techno“.
But It’s not solely about the scale. I am not a Swiftie, but the people I know who religiously admire Taylor Swift, when trying to put their feelings into words, speak about feeling seen, about being spoken to directly, in an almost uncanny way. And that’s the case with Fred again as well. His storytelling is extremely specific and personal but -weirdly – that makes it all the more universal and easy to get attached to.
What’s even more interesting is that throughout the three albums of his „Actual Life“ cycle, Fred again achieved this mostly without using his own words. The emotional storytelling of the songs was built up around voice notes from friends, random encounters he had recorded on his phone, or samples from artists he had found on the internet. Even back then, Fred Gibson wasn’t a stranger to the music industry. In fact he had, whilst only in his mid-twenties, written and produced songs for huge names like Ed Sheeran, BTS, Ellie Goulding and George Ezra. Despite this, artists like Dermot Kennedy and Angie McMahon recall having no idea who this mysterious Fred was, who reached out to them one day, asking whether they were willing to let him sample their music. Nor did they have the smallest idea how big the songs they contributed to would become in the end.
There is something extremely heartfelt about the music of Fred again, and it connects people on a deep emotional level. The sense of community he creates plays an important part here. During Covid I was dancing to his music alone in my living room, manifesting that once it was all over, I would be able to see him perform live. Now we can dance together at his shows, and I cannot help but feel a very special sense of appreciation in the crowd, an extraordinary level of elevation and euphoria, that I haven’t really sensed to the same degree before. The feeling is only enhanced by the way Fred himself engages with his audience through social media. It’s his tone of speaking to you directly, of setting up pop-up shows in special places, as if he was casually inviting a handful of friends to a night out. And the regular apologies that he issues to fans for having far too few tickets available, to meet the growing demand.
I’m not naive: of course all this is driven by an excellent sense of marketing. The pop-up shows, limited merch and vinyl releases, all of which are presented directly by Fred to fans via the community he has built across Instagram, TikTok, a Discord Server and a Whatsapp channel, are all powerful tools to create a bigger and bigger buzz. Considering also the very personal and emotional messages in the music, the question of genuineness arises and is being widely discussed these days. Part of the discourse is the fact that Fred Gibson comes from a British aristocratic family, attended one of the most expensive and prestigious private schools in Britain and as a teenager was already being mentored by his neighbour Brian Eno. But all of this wouldn’t work if he wasn’t so genuinely good at what he does. How can you not want to be part of something that makes you feel so good? And at the same time gives you a deeper understanding of feelings like loss and grief, ultimately providing a safe space for you to deal with it all?
It cannot be denied that Fred Gibson’s background makes him an overly fortunate person. But denying someone the genuineness of their emotions based on where they come from, seems incredibly cynical to me. He has this generous way of sharing his world, that makes him so appealing as an artist to turn to, when you are in need of emotional support and guidance. It’s the way he opens up about his own pain and struggles. One of the central themes in his music is his very personal story of falling in love and having to watch the love of his life fall sick. He talks a lot about grief not being linear, about how it can creep up on you again, just when you thought the worst was behind you. But he also takes you by the hand, when all you need in that moment is the best party in the world. And it is also how he shines the spotlight on the people he works with.
His new album „ten days“ marks the end of the „Actual Life“ era, and the beginning of a new way of creating his music. The ten songs on „ten days“ aren’t mainly compiled of quotes and samples: they belong more to the tradition of classic songwriting. They feature a number of guest artists, who all contribute significantly to the sparkle of the album. There’s British R’n’B artist Sampha, who duets with Fred on the soulful „fear less“, which radiates the teenage-angst-sturm-and-drang vibe of early The 1975 ballads. Or US rapper Anderson. Paak, who lends his vocals to the incredibly uplifting „places to be“.
Probably the most astonishing moment on the album is „just stand there“. While based on an electronic beat almost resembling a heartbeat, the driving force of the song is a seemingly endless piano crescendo that builds up so intensely, it physically takes your breath away. Hovering above it all are the most beautiful lyrics by UK singer-songwriter SOAK, describing the feeling you get in the wake of inexplicable beauty: „I feel like all four seasons happen in one day. And I just stand there.“ It’s the exact description of the feeling this song leaves you with.
There’s the no-brainer dance floor banger that is „glow“. There’s „where will I be“, the collaboration with US country-rock legend Emmylou Harris, that sounds like an invitation to an Irish folk dance circle. And there’s the album closer „backseat“, a reworking of The Japanese House track „Sunshine Baby“, which proves that something already beautiful can become even more beautiful, when two like-minded individuals come together. Even the slightly cheesy dance pop of „peace you need“ feels organic within the whole scheme. Especially if you have ever been asked to sing along to it at a Fred again show: „I let you take a piece of me. I hope you get the peace you need.“
In the end, the true quality of „ten days“ isn’t defined by technical aspects (even though some of the production is insane and, incidentally, Fred himself is showcasing some of his own best vocal work to date). Nor is it a question of genre. Is this, by definition, still an electronic dance record? And most of all, does it even matter? There is just so much life in this record, an awareness of all the aspects of it, that inevitably transfers to the listener. What is it that connects us as humans, as different as we may be? The desire to pull through, the desire to survive, to do better and be better. The music of Fred again can give us the consoling and unifying feeling that at some point, we’ve all been there. Luckily, most of us make it through. And sometimes, music like this is essential to it.