music

A different type of British invasion had EDM fans in a trance at the Queen Mary in Long Beach.

Armed with turntables, social media-star-turned-professional-party-starter Fish56Octagon made his U.S. festival debut Nov. 21 and 22 at Insomniac’s Dreamstate SoCal, where he performed alongside some of the world’s most preeminent electronic artists, including Tiësto, Paul Oakenfold, Gareth Emery, Ferry Corsten and Chicane.

Fish, as he’s called, is a 46-year-old from the London suburbs who joined TikTok on a drunken whim after being introduced to the app by friends in 2021. Now boasting over a million followers across platforms, he’s seen his life flip because of that choice — quitting a full-time marketing career to become a DJ, produce music and play sets at some of the world’s biggest music festivals in the four years since he uploaded his first video.

Though his initial post was about his watch collection, the self-described “petrol head” quickly went deep into creating content about cars and made a successful side hustle within a couple years. Crossover between auto enthusiasts and the music lovers in his audience meant the dance songs he used to soundtrack his car videos and sporadic vinyl-haul unboxings spawned passionate discussion in the comments about the classic rave songs Fish was sharing with the world.

He also benefited from an accidental, scroll-stopping visual hook repeated across videos born from his employer asking him to ensure it didn’t look like he was posting during business hours: middle-aged, thin and bald, dropping dad moves in front of his sprawling Technics decks and pumping his fists to the beat between bites of Weetabix biscuits, all while wearing a red and black dressing gown (what Americans would call a robe), gifted to Fish’s wife by his mother.

“That gown is elegant,” wrote a fan in the comments.

“It was legit my mum’s but she found it too hot,” Fish responded.

“You the same build as your mum” another person wrote back, punctuating the comment with a sweating smiley face emoji.

Fish also began to livestream on TikTok late into the night, playing his own mixes for the first time in 20 years.

“I remember seeing people commenting on the Live going, ‘Mate, we were watching you before we went out. We’ve just gone on a whole night out in our city, come back and you’re still here playing,’” Fish said. “I just love it. Sharing and being able to get out those obscure records. Sometimes it’s the big anthems everyone knows and sometimes it’s a tune that was an anthem to me.”

He’s had a decades-long education in electronic music. Fish was introduced to the genre on the cusp of his teen years through an episode of the British detective show “Inspector Morse.” One episode took place in the illegal rave scene and he thought it looked like fun to party in an old warehouse.

Fish’s taste quickly developed by listening to pirate radio and vinyl. He pieced together his first setup with two hi-fi record players his dad had in the attic. Only one had pitch control. He learned to beatmatch by plugging a player into each side of his amplifier and using the balance knob to fade between them. He was given Soundlab DLP-1 belt-driven turntables for his birthday and his obsession accelerated over the next several years.

“By then I was just spending every penny that I had on vinyl building my record collection up. It was all rave music, early old school, hardcore jungle, and then happy hardcore, drum and bass around that sort of time, early to mid-’90s,” he said. “I played quite a few house parties.”

He became a de-facto resident DJ in college, spinning vinyl in the student union, and dabbled in music production at the same time. He eventually sold his analog kit and synthesizers when he switched to Ableton. He downsized his record collection as he converted them to MP3s.

The demands of his post-college marketing career meant the DJ dream disappeared for many years. That was until his TikTok Live sets gave him a second chance as club promoters reached out in the hope of booking him. Fish admits a lack of confidence caused him to stay on the sidelines. It was an offer in February 2024 to play a solo show at Hidden in Manchester — about the same time he switched his channel over entirely to music — that got him out of his house and onto a stage.

“Even if I wasn’t sure that people would come, I knew that anyone that did come would be coming to see me,” he said. “ … I ended up putting a night on where I played for five hours straight, just me from the start to the end. When the tickets went on sale, it sold out a good couple of months before the event.”

Fish wondered if it was a one-off event or the beginning of a life-changing run. Then the offers came in from other big U.K. cities — FishTales in Newcastle; acid techno at Beaverworks in Leeds; raves in Liverpool and Birmingham. He hired an agent. Dropped some merch.

“Not sure how this happened! But I’m here for it and hope you are too,” he wrote online.

A 20-date summer tour featured three different sets at the famed Glastonbury Festival, and appearances at Reading and Creamfields. He also traveled to Ireland, Scotland and Malta, marking his first time playing professionally outside of England.

He quit his day job in August 2024 to DJ and focus on music production full time with the support of his wife, children and parents.

“They support me even though it comes at a cost that I can’t always spend as much time with them, but they understand that I’m following my dream, following my passion, and doing something positive,” he said.

He’s gained an appreciation as a historian of the genre. Fish’s followers have grown to include Skrillex, David Guetta, Disclosure, Bicep and more of the artists he has admired and now counts among his peers.

“For about the first year, I often would wake up in the morning — I’m gonna get a little bit emotional just talking about this — but I’d wake up in the morning and just think, ‘Wow, that was all a dream, wasn’t it?” he said. “Then I look at my phone. I can see that actually it was real.”

Fish attributes his success to social media, though he said it’s a mistake to think just having social media followers guarantees bookings and the upward trajectory of one’s career.

“They’re actually a function of each other. It’s because I was making content that proved to be popular about music that I managed to build up a following and have those opportunities come my way,” he said. “I’ve now played, getting on for, 200 professional gigs at various clubs, festivals, events, raves, all around the world.”

Fish waited until November 2025 to make his first trek to North America with an 11-date run featuring his first U.S. festival booking. He chose Dreamstate because he’s always had a special place in his heart for trance and the emotional connection people have with the music.

“I love all dance music, but trance is the one that can kind of tug at your heartstrings a bit with those melodies, and the chord progression, and the way that the beats can be so crisp when they come in, and the way the bass hits,” he said.

Fish performed Friday night on “The Vision.” It’s the same stage played by legends Chicane and Paul Oakenfold this year and Darude last. He also co-headlined an hour-long B2B with Night 1 Dreamstate headliner Gareth Emery early Sunday morning, as the top-billed act for the festival’s afterparty in the Grand Salon of the iconic Queen Mary.

He made his way to LAX after stepping off stage at 3 a.m. to fly to New York and play the last three hours of a 24-hour rave.

Fish has tour dates in New Zealand and Australia toward the end of the year, plus the largest show of his career March 28 at London’s O2 Academy Brixton. He’s also releasing music for himself and others under his record label Octagon Discs.

As his audience multiplies, Fish’s earliest followers remain enthralled by his seemingly infinite rise.

“How did the dude who recommends second-hand cars get to this. So happy for you dude,” one fan wrote in the comments of his Dreamstate recap video post.

“Music was my number 1 passion but i thought I was too old. Thanks for the support bro,” Fish replied.

“Amazing,” another chimed in. “But I would not recognize u in the wild without the bathrobe.”

PinkPantheress broke out in 2021 with a series of charming and inventive singles that placed her high, breathy vocals over skittering beats built around easily recognizable samples. It was as though the English singer and producer were trying to insert herself into pop-music history from behind a laptop in her bedroom — which is pretty much what ended up happening.

In 2023, her song “Boy’s a Liar Pt. 2,” a collaboration with Ice Spice, went to No. 3 on Billboard’s Hot 100; several months later, she landed a song on the hit soundtrack of Greta Gerwig’s “Barbie.” Last year she went on the road as an opening act for Olivia Rodrigo, and now she’s nominated for her first two Grammy Awards: dance/electronic album for this year’s “Fancy That” and dance pop recording for the project’s opening track, “Illegal.”

With nine songs in only 20 minutes, “Fancy That” maintains the TikTok-era economy of PinkPantheress’ early work. It’s also full of samples from the likes of Underworld, Basement Jaxx and Panic! at the Disco — one reason, perhaps, the singer, 24, describes it as a mixtape rather than an album. (An accompanying remix set, “Fancy Some More?,” features appearances by Basement Jaxx, Kylie Minogue, Sugababes, Ravyn Lenae and Groove Armada, among many others.)

Yet “Fancy That” showcases an expanding emotional palette too — it’s by turns funny, wistful, horny, melancholy and unimpressed. She spoke about it over matcha lattes in Los Angeles, where she lives when she’s not back home in London. “If you’re a musician, it’s sold as the place to be,” she says of L.A. “I was trying not to like it, but I really do.”

You’re enjoying the city despite yourself.
I think for me, it was just a case of: When I’m comfortable somewhere, I don’t enjoy exploration. What I know to be safe is where I stay.

Why?
It’s something with the way my brain works — I don’t think it’s a choice. My brain associates change — different environments and travel — with fear. I don’t go on holiday because of that reason. I find it very difficult because I genuinely don’t feel safe. Doesn’t matter where I am.

What do you do in L.A.?
I hang out with my friends. I get food. I do all the regular things. But it’s taken me years. When I first got here, I wasn’t like, Oh my God — the Hollywood sign! It was just like, Lemme find my footing. I think getting my house was when I was OK. I don’t like the stress of going out somewhere and being worried about how I come across to people.

If you’re at a restaurant, it’s hard for you not to think about the fact that someone might know who you are.
On occasion, if I’m not disguised well enough.

What are the disguises?
I think I’m gonna stop wearing my hair out in public.

So pop stardom — enjoyable or not?
It’s as absurd as everyone says. But it is 100% what I’ve always wanted to be. So I can’t complain now.

I mean, you could.
But I shan’t.

That would be poor form?
I’m a big believer of my words having an effect on everything I do going forward. So if I was to become comfortable complaining about my job — when I worked so hard to get here — then it’s gonna carry with me and it’ll come out in my behavior.

Do you drive?
I love driving. That’s another reason I like it here, because I can drive.

You like driving here more than in London?
I have a nicer car here. Well, actually, I don’t have a car in London anymore. The police took it.

Why?
Don’t know.

You must know.
I actually just don’t know. I literally got there and it was gone, and I was like, Fine. It was so cheap — like 2,000 pounds.

What kind of car was it?
A Peugeot 208.

In a recent interview with Zane Lowe, you named the people you called your blueprints: M.I.A., Kelela and Tinashe. All are well–regarded trailblazers, but none of them, I would say, is a pop superstar. That made me wonder: Do you want to be top of the pops?
I feel like in order to be top of the pops, I’d have to compromise a lot about my artistic choices. However, if the post-“Brat” era has taught us anything about music, it’s that you can actually be as experimental as you want, and if it translates, it will translate. So actually it’s not necessarily a recipe that’s too formulaic, as one would think.

Do I want to be top of the pops? I think that might be too much pressure. I don’t enjoy having to explain myself, and I worry that being big would make me have to explain a lot about myself. However, I do want to be well-regarded. I do want to be influential. And I do want to not have to worry, How well will this do? It’s less about top of the pops and more about having a very loyal fan base, which I prioritize above everything else.

I spoke with Lorde recently, and she told me she aches to be understood even though she wishes she didn’t. You said you don’t like explaining yourself. But do you feel compelled to?
I would say I definitely under-explained myself early on. And unfortunately that was a crucial error because — had I been on top of explaining my music and my musical mind from the jump — maybe now I’d be taken more as a producer. But because I didn’t, and because of the way I present myself, I do think people take me as more surface-level pop, and I’m actually not — I’m actually fully an art girl, like all the women I’ve mentioned.

So it’s kind of gone from not explaining myself to explaining too much. I hated that, too, because then it got people asking me more questions. Now I don’t want to explain anything anymore.

You’ve got the Sugababes on your remix album. Great example of an act that’s beloved in England but couldn’t get arrested in the States. Why do you think some U.K. acts cross over and some don’t?
If you have someone on your marketing team that prioritizes America, then I’m 99% sure you can always do it. I don’t think American people are put off by Britishness — I don’t think the music is too crazy for them to get it. The reason I did well in America was because I used a platform where the majority of users are American.

You mean TikTok. Did you use TikTok because that was the platform you were good at or because you knew it was the platform with the broadest reach?
I had no idea how it worked — I just thought about what has the most reach. I’m a child of the internet. I’ve always been online.

What’s bad about the internet?
There was a time when I would have said nothing.

At what age?
Sixteen — even older, honestly. The whole push of generated stuff has made it so unbelievably different. Back when I was on the internet, you wouldn’t have to second-guess any post you saw.

Whereas now you have to question whether something is real or AI.
Is this propaganda or is this not? That’s bad.

Is TikTok still fun?
I don’t really go on social media at all, so I don’t know.

You just make your posts —
And dip. Or I interact with people that help me towards my craft. People that make fan edits, I love it, so I’ll interact with them. But I don’t really scroll.

Did someone say to you, “Listen, you need to stop scrolling”?
No. I actually have no vices, so I didn’t have a problem with it.

Everyone’s addicted to scrolling.
Hell no — I’m not. If I want to stop something, I can stop right now.

Do you drink? Smoke weed?
I can’t do any drugs. I get drunk once or twice a month, and that’s my limit. I make sure to count that.

Why no drugs?
I’m a hypochondriac.

What are you afraid of happening?
Dying. Also, it’s just not enjoyable for me. When I get drunk, that’s the best amount of chaos I can experience in my inner self.

Dying?
Too much coke could kill you — cause an arrhythmic heart. And as I’ve said, if I fear something, I’m not gonna step foot towards it.

Who said no to being on the remix album?
No one said no. But I don’t ask people that I know are gonna say no — I just refuse to ask them. There was one person that was like, “Oh, I saw this too late” [makes “Yeah, right” face]. And one person didn’t reply. Maybe two people didn’t reply.

Were your feelings hurt?
No. Yeah. Maybe. When it comes to features and everything like that, I very much understand — I get how the mind of a singer works. I think people that get hurt are maybe not putting themselves in their shoes.

Surely you’ve said no to people at this point.
It’s a horrible feeling. And I try and make it work as much as possible. But sometimes it just doesn’t make sense. The vibes are off.

Have you heard the Lily Allen album?
Yes.

Thoughts?
Really good. And earnest.

She’s just laying out all her business.
She’s a Brit — that’s what we do.

Are Brits essentially earnest?
I think there’s something in our music that’s extremely earnest. That’s why you get someone like an Adele or someone like a Raye right now. You can feel them bleed. They’re bleeding out onto the stage — bleeding out onto the pieces of paper.

Beyond what we’ve talked about, I know virtually nothing about your personal life.
Exactly.

Whereas now I know a tremendous amount about Lily Allen’s. What do you make of that impulse to dump everything out into the world?
What I love about Lily Allen is that she’s always been very honest from Day 1. She’s an open book in interviews — she’s an open book everywhere. It works for her because it makes her very personable and makes her music all that more enjoyable because we feel like we’re actually experiencing her as a human being.

I would love to be that earnest. I simply don’t think I’ve gone through half the amount she’s gone through in her life. Because I fear so much, I end up not being in very exciting or controversial situations, and that could translate as boring. But I wouldn’t say I was a boring person. I relish in the mundaneness of interacting with others and the excitement of being myself. I’m actually obsessed with myself. When I’m with my best friend, we’re just so fun together. Other people, they’re like, “The f—?”

You’re on Coachella next year. You’ve talked about festivals not being your ideal performance venue.
I’m definitely better now, for sure. Two years ago, I was pretty s—.

What’d you learn from the tour you just finished?
Oh, a lot. I learnt that I’m in control of my body. I learnt that I’m in control of pretty much every element when I’m onstage. One thing I’m realizing as I talk is that the reason I don’t like drugs is because I like full control. When I’m onstage, for some reason, I always imagine that I’m gonna lose control — I’m gonna have to faint or have to run. I don’t know why, but that’s my biggest fear with performing, and hence why I’ve always been quite nervous.

But doing that tour made me realize that I can choose if I want to have a good time right now. And I chose to have a really good time — it was a really fun experience. I’m still learning how to dance. I’m still learning how to look good onstage. I think I’m built in quite a funny way, which makes me look long. And when you’re shaped in a long way and you have long limbs, you look bad at dancing.

You’re taller than I expected.
Every single person says that.

Why do we all think you’re going to be shorter?
My voice is quite high. I also think I shrink myself — less in physical ways and more in how I portray myself. I’m not like [shouts], “I’m here!” I’m more like [whispers], “I’m here.”

The singer of the band lights up a cigarette and smoke drifts into the theater. Ditto for the pungent aroma of marijuana when a few band members share a joint. “Stereophonic,” which is playing at the Hollywood Pantages through Jan. 2, isn’t biographical, but it sure feels close.

The authenticity springs in part from the quality of the songs being recorded by the fictional band on stage, which were written by Will Butler, a multi-instrumentalist and former member of the Grammy Award-winning band Arcade Fire.

“Stereophonic,” which holds the record for the most Tony nominations of all time for a play, unfolds over the course of a single year as a rock band on the cusp of megastardom struggles to record its second album as the first reaches No. 1 on the charts. While the pressure to produce a hit builds, the band falls apart. For proof of the formula’s resilience, look no further than the success of VH1’s “Behind the Music” series, which plumbed the depths of dozens of rock ’n’ roll train wrecks.

“We really tried to just make something real,” Butler said during an interview in the small, cluttered green room at Amoeba Music before he joined the cast of the show for a brief in-store performance. “This is three hours of what it’s like to make a record.”

Is it ever. There is something inherently combustible about being in a band. (Full disclosure: I played in a semi-popular indie band for a decade, which imploded with huge amounts of drama right on cue. I know at least a dozen other groups that have unraveled in similar fashion.) Despite, or rather because of, Arcade Fire’s massive popularity, Butler knows the crash-and-burn nature of being in a band. He joined Arcade Fire after one of its original members quit in the middle of an encore following a fight with the lead singer — Butler’s older brother, Win Butler.

Will Butler left Arcade Fire at the end of 2021, saying at the time that the decision came about organically. “There was no acute reason beyond that I’ve changed — and the band has changed — over the last almost 20 years. Time for new things,” he wrote on social media.

“Stereophonic” was one of those new things, and Butler has brought his understanding of volatile band dynamics to bear in his work on the show, as well as his thoughts on the fragile, ephemeral nature of recording in a studio.

“There’s a little booth, and you go into the booth and you lose your mind,” Butler said of the experience of laying down a track. “And you exit the booth and you’re just a boring human.”

The boring — and boorish — parts of that humanity are on display in “Stereophonic,” where there is more control room conflict than actual music making. This also feels true to form. Romances blossom and bottom out in spectacular fashion. Drugs are consumed in copious amounts — particularly cocaine. This is 1976, after all. The long-suffering recording engineer reaches his breaking point after becoming totally fed up with the band’s self-absorbed, self-destructive behavior.

Human beings weren’t meant to create art in this particular kind of pressure cooker. Until they do. There is a moment in the making of every great song when each musician becomes part of the whole during the act of recording, and the band’s genius is temporarily realized. The song can’t be made by any one member — it can only come from the spontaneous transcendence of the group.

This moment happens in “Stereophonic” after a truly frustrating number of stops and starts, when the group plays a song so beautifully that the theater erupts in effusive applause. This is why the band stays together despite its constant feuding — and why the audience has come.

“The music in this show has to crack open the world because it’s so much talking and it’s so much sitting around,” Butler said. “And then when they play music, you have to instantly realize why they’re together.”

Butler first met playwright David Adjmi and heard his idea for the show in 2014. Butler was intrigued, but had to wait for the script before he could work on the music in earnest. The songs needed to fit into the script like puzzle pieces, Butler said. Sometimes he needed to write a whole song and other times he needed to focus on composing the first 30 seconds of a song — which would be heard on repeat.

“And then we cast it, and now the music exists in a different way,” Butler said, noting that the music changes with every new cast. A cast — like a band — has its own particular strengths and weaknesses. No rhythm section is ever the same. You know John Bonham’s tom fills when you hear them, just as you can immediately recognize the sound of Ringo Starr’s hi-hats.

The whole process of constructing “Stereophonic” as a play is very meta — with Butler producing the band that is in turn producing itself onstage in the studio. During the course of the show, one of the songs is actually recorded live and played back from the control room. It is slightly different each time, in ways both meaningful and incidental. Just like in real life.

The in-store performance at Amoeba, however, is wildly different from what happens onstage at the Pantages. The cast members are not — with the exception of the drummer — trained musicians, and stripped of the confidence that comes with costumes and a set, they appear somewhat vulnerable in the process.

This is in stark contrast to Butler, who displays all the verve and conviction of a bona fide rock star. The cast will do the same across the street later that night. For the moment, however, Butler is showing them just how it’s done.

Even though Visalia holds the title of being the oldest city in the San Joaquin Valley, it’s more likely a place you’ve passed through on your way to visit General Sherman or the infamous carved Tunnel Log. Many Angelenos don’t even know how to properly pronounce its name.

But Visalia (say it: vai-SAY-lee-uh) — a place long known as “the gateway to the Sequoias” for its proximity to Sequoia and Kings Canyon national parks — is becoming a destination in its own right.

The 151-year-old Central Valley city has been working hard to shed its bucolic stereotypes and reinvent itself as a cosmopolitan oasis with hip boutiques, craft breweries and a revamped downtown. Changes started happening about five years ago when the Darling Hotel opened in the bones of the former 1930s Tulare County Courthouse annex. The Art Deco boutique hotel offers chic accommodations, catering to design-savvy travelers. Nowadays, downtown’s East Main Street, which plays host to tchotke-laden antique stores and patio dining, is a vibrant, walkable hub. At First Friday Downtown Art Walks, people can groove to a steady playlist of popular tunes thanks to a speaker system the city installed along the sidewalks. And although its Chinatown has been dismantled for years, many Chinese restaurants and a sizable Asian population remain, along with some of the community’s original Asian-inspired architecture along Main Street.

With farmlands nearby, farmers markets are held not once, but twice a week in Visalia’s downtown area, while local farms offer pick-your-own visits and plenty of restaurants make use of the local and seasonal produce at their disposal (seek out the honey glazed shrimp made with locally grown walnuts at Canton Restaurant as well as the berry pies and fruit preserves at the Vintage Press Restaurante).

Counterculture types will find respite at music and vintage store Velouria Records, cult film fans can catch free and low-cost screenings at the historic Visalia Fox Theater and paranormal-enthusiasts can chase spirits on ghost tours or late-night jaunts to the notoriously haunted Visalia Public Cemetery. There is even an extensive underground tunnel system — once used to operate gambling joints and opium dens — that still exists below downtown. Some people still find their way into them — those who aren’t deterred by massive spiders or trespassing charges, that is.

The city comes together for annual events, such as the twice-yearly downtown Wine Walk, the culinary extravaganza Taste of Visalia or the wintertime tradition Candy Cane Lane Parade, which celebrates its 79th anniversary this month. Also notable: Visalia became the first city in the United States to be designated a Certified Autism Destination in 2022, training at least 80% of its guest and public-facing staff in autism and sensory disorders.

As the city continues shucking its former reputation as a drive-by dot on the map, SoCal residents seeking a weekend escape only a few hours away would do well to take note. There is plenty of natural beauty to be found in the area, and one doesn’t have to drive into the higher elevations of the Southern Sierra Nevada Mountains to get some adventure time in. Rent a boat or a kayak at nearby Lake Kaweah, strap on a helmet and do some whitewater rafting in Three Rivers or wander through preserved wetlands that have been untouched for centuries.

It might not be the first place on your California vacation bucket list, but Visalia is worthy of a visit — and with its rapidly changing cityscape, will likely have more to offer with each passing year.

A banner advertising Spotify’s public trading debut hangs in April 2018 from the facade of the NYSE in New York City, N.Y. The streaming platform Spotify experienced a brief disruption to its services in the morning hours, according to social media updates. File Photo by Monika Graff/UPI | License Photo

Dec. 15 (UPI) — Spotify said Monday an unknown glitch hampered service for thousands of users of the music streamer.

The streaming platform Spotify experienced a brief disruption to its services in the morning hours, according to updates on social media.

“All clear! Thanks for your patience,” Spotify Status posted on X at 10:34 a.m. local time.

Spotify first acknowledged the issue around 9:45 a.m. local time. But the cause remains unclear.

“We’re aware of some issues right now and are checking them out!” officials wrote in the morning.

At one point, Downdetector showed more than 10,000 reports on the issue.

The company followed up roughly an hour later confirming the outage had been resolved by 10:34 a.m. local time.

In May, Spotify announced that Apple had approved its app update following a federal court ruling that found the tech giant in violation of an earlier injunction.

Meanwhile, Spotify said Monday if users still experience issues they can find out more on a community support thread page it posted.