Fred Again at Sydney Opera House review – a record-breaking, turbocharged night | Fred Again

It’s 9pm on an otherwise unremarkable Tuesday, and the foyer of the Sydney Opera House is a crush of slightly smug excitement. Friends run to each other and whoop, then fall into selfie formation. Outside under the famous sails, groups vape in anticipation while cradling three cans apiece. Inside the moodily smoke-filled Concert Hall, a simple test of a lighting cue is met by a headliner-worthy cheer. On the same day that Taylor Swift left town, UK producer and DJ Fred Again has arrived to keep the hype alive.

All this escalated quickly, just as its mastermind intended. The musician born Frederick Gibson surprised fans on Tuesday morning by announcing a one-off Opera House show via Instagram Stories. After blowing up during Covid lockdown, Fred Again has become a savvy operator of social media, where his earnest, perpetually awed persona gives no clue to the major-label machine powering behind him. A staggering total of 125,000 fans immediately flooded the online queue for that same night’s performance, for a venue that holds 2,250 – making it the largest on-sale demand in the history of the Concert Hall. No one could accuse Fred Again of failing to capitalise on his moment: this review coincides with the announcement he will be touring Australia in March.

The build-up to this moment has been dizzying. Gibson was last in Australia in early 2023 for Laneway festival (where he also threw surprise parties for fans who missed out on sideshow tickets). Since then, he’s DJed alongside Skrillex and Four Tet to close Coachella, sold out multi-night residencies in New York and Los Angeles, and won a couple of Grammys. (Relevantly for tonight, he’s also a new fixture of the triple j Hottest 100, featuring four times on each of the last two countdowns.)

Previously working behind the scenes with everyone from Brian Eno to Ed Sheeran, the producer broke through as Fred Again with a trilogy of pandemic-era albums, Actual Life 1-3, that were deeply indebted to online culture. Musically, Gibson is equally all-tabs-open, jumping from throwback trance to festival-ready house to pseudo-Burial beatscapes. This newfound fame crested with the viral success of his Boiler Room set from London (30m views to date), which turbocharged his intimate productions in a sweaty, rowdy farewell to pandemic protocols.

My own introduction to Fred Again was as a chameleonic producer who was as comfortable working with drill rapper Headie One as he was making shimmering house with Jayda G. His solo output struck me as supremely polished yet emotionally hollow, a scepticism only compounded by the fervour, which seemed to drown out an explosive creative moment for UK dance music.

Not that petty haters matter one bit: unless Daft Punk dusted off their helmets, it’s hard to imagine any dance artist in 2024 matching this kind of hysteria. (The Chemical Brothers are yet to sell out their Sydney show this week.) Such is the self-fulfilling hype effect, which in Gibson’s case is as much about the collective giddiness he inspires as the music itself.

That ineffable charge is palpable as the lights go down on the packed-to-capacity room, and a thunderous roar goes up. Earlier on Instagram, Gibson set expectations for a “real stripped version of the show” pulled together after orchestra rehearsals. This set-up – with Gibson at his keys and microphone across from his offsider Tony Friend, a single rectangular screen suspended between them – creates a welcome intimacy in the vaulted Concert Hall.

The show begins with snapshots from Gibson’s “actual life” filling the screen, as he looks on adoringly from his stool, before launching into Kyle (I Found You), which he accompanies with his own spirited vocals. Fittingly for a producer who has had a hand in numerous pop hits, Actual Life cuts like Bleu (Better With Time) and Danielle (Smile on My Face) are direct hits to the brain’s pleasure centres, with accompanying visuals that fans already know intimately. On several occasions, Gibson – dressed in customary zip-off pants and Fred Again-branded Nike tee – skips to his MPC controller at centre stage to bash out his bass-heavy tracks such as Jungle and Leavemealone, in a style reminiscent of his Boiler Room set.

Throughout the show, Gibson takes a few moments to gather himself, his voice wavering with genuine nerves as he taps his heart and apologises for not being “match ready” after a break from performing. For every display of emotion and declaration of love for Australia, the crowd responds with deafening cheers. (There are even chants of “Tony, Tony, Tony” for Gibson’s onstage partner, who puts in a spirited cardio workout throughout.)

Mid-show, Gibson brings out his “best friend in the world”, Australian-born Henry Counsell of DJ duo Joy Anonymous, to debut a new song, complete with a directed crowd singalong. Every time I feel myself cringing at the too-muchness of it all, I only need to look at the two guys in front of me, who respond with shoulder squeezes and hugs, as if the whole story of their friendship is vibrating through the speakers.

While watching a show through other people’s phone cameras is nothing new, here it’s part of the point, as we watch visuals recorded on phones play out onstage through a phone-shaped screen, and wave our phone torches when instructed before going home to flood our social media feeds.

Via niche favourites such as Sabrina (I Am a Party), the set enters its final crowd-pleasing stretch with Marea (We’ve Lost Dancing) and Billie (Loving Arms) – one of the few moments where Gibson lets the songs weave and build on each other, rather than stopping for a gushy chat. As the beat drops powerfully on closer Delilah (Pull Me Out of This), the Concert Hall feels like it might shake loose.

It’s 9pm on an otherwise unremarkable Tuesday, and the foyer of the Sydney Opera House is a crush of slightly smug excitement. Friends run to each other and whoop, then fall into selfie formation. Outside under the famous sails, groups vape in anticipation while cradling three cans apiece. Inside the moodily smoke-filled Concert Hall, a simple test of a lighting cue is met by a headliner-worthy cheer. On the same day that Taylor Swift left town, UK producer and DJ Fred Again has arrived to keep the hype alive.

All this escalated quickly, just as its mastermind intended. The musician born Frederick Gibson surprised fans on Tuesday morning by announcing a one-off Opera House show via Instagram Stories. After blowing up during Covid lockdown, Fred Again has become a savvy operator of social media, where his earnest, perpetually awed persona gives no clue to the major-label machine powering behind him. A staggering total of 125,000 fans immediately flooded the online queue for that same night’s performance, for a venue that holds 2,250 – making it the largest on-sale demand in the history of the Concert Hall. No one could accuse Fred Again of failing to capitalise on his moment: this review coincides with the announcement he will be touring Australia in March.

The build-up to this moment has been dizzying. Gibson was last in Australia in early 2023 for Laneway festival (where he also threw surprise parties for fans who missed out on sideshow tickets). Since then, he’s DJed alongside Skrillex and Four Tet to close Coachella, sold out multi-night residencies in New York and Los Angeles, and won a couple of Grammys. (Relevantly for tonight, he’s also a new fixture of the triple j Hottest 100, featuring four times on each of the last two countdowns.)

Previously working behind the scenes with everyone from Brian Eno to Ed Sheeran, the producer broke through as Fred Again with a trilogy of pandemic-era albums, Actual Life 1-3, that were deeply indebted to online culture. Musically, Gibson is equally all-tabs-open, jumping from throwback trance to festival-ready house to pseudo-Burial beatscapes. This newfound fame crested with the viral success of his Boiler Room set from London (30m views to date), which turbocharged his intimate productions in a sweaty, rowdy farewell to pandemic protocols.

My own introduction to Fred Again was as a chameleonic producer who was as comfortable working with drill rapper Headie One as he was making shimmering house with Jayda G. His solo output struck me as supremely polished yet emotionally hollow, a scepticism only compounded by the fervour, which seemed to drown out an explosive creative moment for UK dance music.

Not that petty haters matter one bit: unless Daft Punk dusted off their helmets, it’s hard to imagine any dance artist in 2024 matching this kind of hysteria. (The Chemical Brothers are yet to sell out their Sydney show this week.) Such is the self-fulfilling hype effect, which in Gibson’s case is as much about the collective giddiness he inspires as the music itself.

That ineffable charge is palpable as the lights go down on the packed-to-capacity room, and a thunderous roar goes up. Earlier on Instagram, Gibson set expectations for a “real stripped version of the show” pulled together after orchestra rehearsals. This set-up – with Gibson at his keys and microphone across from his offsider Tony Friend, a single rectangular screen suspended between them – creates a welcome intimacy in the vaulted Concert Hall.

The show begins with snapshots from Gibson’s “actual life” filling the screen, as he looks on adoringly from his stool, before launching into Kyle (I Found You), which he accompanies with his own spirited vocals. Fittingly for a producer who has had a hand in numerous pop hits, Actual Life cuts like Bleu (Better With Time) and Danielle (Smile on My Face) are direct hits to the brain’s pleasure centres, with accompanying visuals that fans already know intimately. On several occasions, Gibson – dressed in customary zip-off pants and Fred Again-branded Nike tee – skips to his MPC controller at centre stage to bash out his bass-heavy tracks such as Jungle and Leavemealone, in a style reminiscent of his Boiler Room set.

Throughout the show, Gibson takes a few moments to gather himself, his voice wavering with genuine nerves as he taps his heart and apologises for not being “match ready” after a break from performing. For every display of emotion and declaration of love for Australia, the crowd responds with deafening cheers. (There are even chants of “Tony, Tony, Tony” for Gibson’s onstage partner, who puts in a spirited cardio workout throughout.)

Mid-show, Gibson brings out his “best friend in the world”, Australian-born Henry Counsell of DJ duo Joy Anonymous, to debut a new song, complete with a directed crowd singalong. Every time I feel myself cringing at the too-muchness of it all, I only need to look at the two guys in front of me, who respond with shoulder squeezes and hugs, as if the whole story of their friendship is vibrating through the speakers.

While watching a show through other people’s phone cameras is nothing new, here it’s part of the point, as we watch visuals recorded on phones play out onstage through a phone-shaped screen, and wave our phone torches when instructed before going home to flood our social media feeds.

Via niche favourites such as Sabrina (I Am a Party), the set enters its final crowd-pleasing stretch with Marea (We’ve Lost Dancing) and Billie (Loving Arms) – one of the few moments where Gibson lets the songs weave and build on each other, rather than stopping for a gushy chat. As the beat drops powerfully on closer Delilah (Pull Me Out of This), the Concert Hall feels like it might shake loose.