Looking for Answers in the Fred Again Smoker’s Section

At 5:21pm on Saturday afternoon I got an email saying me and a +1 were on the door for Fred Again, who was set to play a last-minute show that night along with Skin on Skin. Doors were in an hour.

At around 6pm I was having a smoke and a beer with a friend, asking him if he knew who Fred Again was. He said he did not. An hour later and I’m two beers and two games of pool down, and I’m still deciding if I can be assed to go all the way to Port Melbourne for the gig. I don’t know a lot about Fred Again, but apparently everyone on my Instagram feed is a big fan and they’re all looking for tickets.

I decide I should probably go.

I get there at about 9pm. On arrival, people are asked to line up in two different lines: one for guest list, one for paid tickets. The line for guest list is about 15 people deep, the line for paid entry is empty except for one guy. Apparently he’d been kicked out of the venue at some unknown point before we arrived but now he was back in line, attempting to prove his sobriety, standing on one leg in front of security. It was borderline swan-like. Watching him I was mesmerised: this man is the most sober of us all.

But he was denied and told to move on. Swan mode deactivated, he stumbled down the street, defeated, into the darkness, dropping his phone on the way. We waited in the guestlist line for about 10 minutes. In that time, swan guy attempted, and failed, two more entries.

Once inside I realised the place was not full of teenagers like I had expected. Instead, it was full of older people. People like me. The balance of the universe was off. I got a drink and headed to the smokers. I spoke to a few people and they all told me they had entered ballots for their tickets, or received emails or WhatsApp messages.

Had anyone actually paid to be here?

The smoking area was sad and empty. Everyone was inside, enjoying the music. So that’s where I headed.

It was a really great vibe if you’re into seeing a sea of phones — which would actually be pretty cool if you were on drugs I guess. But if you were there to see the stage your only chance was to squeeze through to the front or the sides. 

This person’s hand was moving in a disturbing fashion, coming in and out of my view like a cartoon zombie reaching out from underground, wiggling fingers in the air. But in a still image it’s beautiful. Like a shadow puppet. Look honey, it’s a gacked puppy.

Despite how much fun I was having, it was time to head back to the smokers.

It’s there I met 22-year-old [redacted] who told me about an encounter he had with a home intruder when he was 11. He didn’t want a pic of his face but said I could include his hat instead.

“One time, it was around the time I discovered porn, I was in bed, having a bit of me time — and my room was right next to the bathroom right — anyway, this guy starts trying to break into my house through the bathroom window, which is pretty high up. I could hear him fiddling around trying to push the fly screen out to get in. So I just picked up a bat, ran out of my room butt-ass naked, still rock hard and fended him off.

VICE: Wait, why were you rock hard?

I was about to beat my dick man!

Oh, right, so once you scared the guy off, did you go back to your room and, like, finish?

No I didn’t actually, I got pre-nut clarity. I did the next day though.

Nice, so what brings you to Fred Again?

My friend told me to come and gave me a door spot. 

Seems like everyone here is on that door, did anyone actually pay?

I’m not sure man, to be honest with you the only Fred Again song I know is that “Everybody Everybody” song.

Next I got to talking to 38-year-old Vanessa and her friends, who all thought I was pretending to work for VICE. I was like, why would I do that? To which Vanessa responded by telling me she used to pretend to be a journalist to talk to people at festivals about their doof sticks, “just for the lols”. She had even thought up a fake publication name, Under The Line, which I thought was a clever name. 

When I asked her what brought her to Fred Again she told me he was her “favourite DJ in the whole entire world”. She then pointed to her girlfriend and said “That’s my girlfriend over there, and we fell in love to Fred Again.”

Wholesome.

Next, I met 30-year-old “Casper” who said I could take a picture of his shirt for the story. I asked him why he was at Fred Again.

“For me it’s not about who’s playing the music, it’s more about being surrounded by people that are so engaged in the expression. For me, what I was taught from a young age: first? Music. Second? People. Third? Getting fucked up; finding out who you are. Experimenting. That’s what it’s about. Yes, I’ll have a girl, or a friend, that I’ll need to pay attention to, but the reason I’m here is the music, the expression.” 

“Secondly I’m here for you,” he says, pointing at me. “And you, and you, and you,” pointing to everyone in our group. 

“To be born in this time… when I was younger, I used to wish I was born in a time when there wasn’t all this distraction — but the point in time we are at now — politically, philosophically — is so special. In 500 years, when they rewrite history — which is what they do, right? — we were there, we were here, we’re experiencing it right now so fucking immerse yourself in it. I hate Eckhart Tolle but I will quote that. If you were to walk in there, right now, there’d be at least 100 people on their phones, not in the moment. Just immerse yourself in the music.” 

When I asked him how he got in tonight he said “Through a friend… of a friend… of a friend.”

I could’ve listened to Casper speak all night but his friends summoned him to go inside. I grabbed another drink, rolled another smoke, and continued to roam around outside.

Soon I met 26-year-old Chloe (left), who told me she was on stage less than two metres away from Fred “about two or three minutes ago”. All her friends tell me they got in via the guest list, or were plus-ones of people on the guest list. I asked her how she ended up on stage.

“At one point… I was dancing, doing my own thing, and this guy comes up and is like, you look like you’re having a good time, do you want to go up there? And he gave me a wristband.”

The conversation, like pretty much every single one before it, shifted to the endless ocean of phones in the crowd.

“I think that’s just what it’s become. I don’t know how it started but it’s now a mania — like if you’re there, then you want people to know you’re there — so if you’re in there, and you go to record a video, all you’ll record is a sea of phones.”

When asked why she thought Fred Again was so popular, she said: “He’s obviously truly talented, he has really good PR, he’s doing collabs with people who are also great at what they do.” 

We then got into a group discussion about how many people were real fans and how many people were there for hype. The group consensus came to about 50/50, although even the people who weren’t there for Fred specifically, did recognise that he was good and talented, but it was more about being there for the cultural moment, and to be part of the lucky few who get tickets — people posting how they desperately wanted tickets created a snowball effect of FOMO. The Taylor Swift effect. The tickets themselves were the prize.

Before parting ways, I asked her how she got her tickets.

“Half an hour before. I got an email saying Fred Again wants you to come, You’re on the guest list plus one.”