The Ticket Master
on Fred again.., verified fandom, and beating the bots
Welcome to Human Pursuits, the column that features need-to-know names and stories in media and other creative spaces. Today, we interrupt our regularly scheduled programming to bring you a special report from the Ticketmaster trenches, ahead of Fred again’s surprise pop-up show in Vancouver tonight.
There will also be a very special Saturday edition of the newsletter arriving in your inbox tomorrow. Talk soon.
It was after 10 on Saturday night when Goose texted the Wedges.
“Fred again.. in van next weekend 👀”
For weeks, fans of the DJ have speculated whether he would finally play Vancouver as part of his UBS002 pop-ups. They’ve tapped through his Instagram stories like they’re finger drumming on an MK3, debated tour routes on Reddit like they’re Neal Page and Del Griffith trying to get home for Thanksgiving.
This is, to some extent, part of the fun. Other artists announce tour dates via a slow drip, letting the message marinate for weeks, maybe months. But Fred is not like other artists. He plays Ticketmaster the same way that he plays the CDJs. He fiddles with the mechanisms of commerce, works people into a fervor.
He curates the vibe before ever taking the stage.
While I’ve encountered many conspiratorial conversations about Fred over the years—watched as Shomas and Alex and Kate speculated about surprise sets at Celebrities on Davie Street, or up at Whistler—Saturday felt different. His show was no longer a matter of “if” but “when”. It was shifting from a dream to a reality.
Those in the know said he’d be playing Friday. They were right.
A flurry of logistics followed. On Monday, fans signed up to receive a unique code that would allow them to buy up to 4 tickets. An email explained, “The Ticketmaster waiting room opens 15 minutes before the onsale. If you join during this pre-queue period, your place in line will be randomised, so it doesn’t matter if you enter 15 minutes or 2 minutes before.” It also noted Friday’s concert was using Face Value Exchange (FVE) to limit scalpers. “Ticket transfer will be turned off to help keep prices fair and ensure tickets stay in the hands of real fans rather than resellers,” read one bullet point.
I had hoped to attend Fred’s show casually—to enter a presale code, click 'purchase' and move on with my day—but this proved impossible. His fans will tell you that he is a once-in-a-lifetime artist, and perhaps they’re right. He’s definitely a once-in-a-lifetime marketer. He understands that pain and pleasure are closely intertwined; that there’s a positive correlation between your effort and enjoyment.
I texted Shomas, who has seen Fred five times, to ask about the dynamic.
ES: So I’ve been thinking about Fred again.. and some of the hoops people jump through to get tickets. What is the fan perspective on the whole secret link/surprise drop thing? Is it a way to reward the community? Keep casual fans like me out?
SM: The whole drop mentality of his concerts, and not knowing where you’re gonna be playing the next week, is really cool but also really anxiety inducing. For weeks you’re wondering where is he gonna play? Do I need to keep my next Fridays open? I say that even as a dedicated fan with good intel… You can’t plan. You can’t be chill about it. And so there’s a general sense of anxiety around the drop mentality, which might be controversial, but it’s also interesting and fun and novel…
Fred’s whole perspective is that he wants to prioritize his fans... He doesn’t want resellers or bots to win and so he has done everything he can to keep tickets at face value. He doesn’t allow for inflated exchange, even through Ticketmaster, and he doesn’t allow you to transfer your tickets because he wants to limits the possibility for reselling. Even then, bots are still winning and so he’ll go into Discord, which has been going for years, and drop some tickets there to reward a select group fans that he knows care about his music.
It mostly works. Having been to the show in Toronto, it felt like true fans were there. There was this sense of like euphoria, like we made it through all these fucking hurdles to be here. Everyone was so kind and so happy.
Intentionally or not, Fred’s tactics seem designed to keep casual listeners like me from attending his shows. He’s mostly preaching to the converted, prioritizing his most passionate fans. In return, he gets their undivided devotion. Dead Head-style dedication without the tie-dye.
I wasn’t ready to pledge my undying allegiance, exactly, but I decided to stay the course. 15 minutes before the sale, I logged on to Ticketmaster.
At 10 a.m., a digital chime rang out, alerting me that I had officially entered the queue.
At 10:01, I was 11,198th in line.
At 10:18, everything was sold out.
At 10:19, I closed the app.
In the group chat, I watched as Goose and Kate celebrated their good fortune. They had beaten the bots. They were going. I realized I was outside the winner’s circle, looking in. I suddenly felt desperate.
In a last-ditch effort, I joined the Fred again.. verified Discord. I watched the messages roll in, one after the other, as other unlucky fans urged each other to hold the line. Was I a fan? On Saturday, I might’ve said no, not really. Now I’m not so sure.
Hours passed. Then days. I sat quietly reading the thread. Wednesday bled into Thursday, which bled into Friday. “Is anyone still in queue” someone asked. The answer seemed obvious. I was too busy tapping refresh on the Ticketmaster app to type out a reply.