Is Everyone a DJ Now?

It used to be that becoming a DJ required more than just a playlist and a Pinterest board of cool neon-lit corners. It meant crate-digging in dusty record shops, learning to beatmatch by ear, and clocking in endless hours behind the decks at half-empty basements. These days, it seems all you need is a Numark controller, a TikTok account, and a transition that slaps. So, what gives? Is everyone a DJ now?

Yes, probably. Your coworker. Your cousin. The guy you matched with on Raya.

And it’s both a beautiful thing and a bit of a mess.

In 2025, DJ'ing is no longer just a profession. It’s an identity, a social currency, a lifestyle aesthetic—and in some cases, a punchline. Arjun Rampal spins techno now. Abhay Deol spins Boiler Room-style sets. 

The new question isn’t “Who’s DJing tonight?” It’s “Who isn’t?”

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The Cost of Cool

Let’s get this out of the way: the barrier to entry has never been lower—and that’s not a bad thing. Thanks to tech, it’s easier than ever to get started. You can cop a decent beginner setup for less than a fancy dinner in Mumbai, download Rekordbox or Serato, and start experimenting from your bedroom. There’s no need for heavy crates, pricey turntables, or even a deep knowledge of music theory. You don’t even have to learn how to beatmatch—just hit that sync button. The curve has flattened, and the gates have flung open.

In many ways, this accessibility has democratised DJing. More women, more queer folks, more people of colour, and more people from all corners of the globe are stepping into the booth on their own terms. Whether it’s Peggy Gou’s pop-meets-Berghain energy, Keinemusik’s art-collective synergy, or the improvisational wizardry of artists like Four Tet, club culture is shedding its excess and stepping into intimacy. Our favourite artist these days, Fred Again, is the perfect example of this.

Fred Gibson didn’t burst onto the scene—he leaked in. From producing for artists like Ed Sheeran and Stormzy to winning the BRIT Award for Producer of the Year in 2020, he quietly laid the groundwork. But it was during lockdown, a time of collective isolation, that he cracked something open.

His Actual Life series stitched together iPhone voice notes, Instagram clips, and voicemails into electronic hymns of everyday heartbreak and hope. In a world of pristine Spotify core and AI-generated vibes, Fred brought messiness. And we loved it.

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That’s something worth celebrating. DJ'ing has become a form of self-expression, a social balm, a new-age community ritual. It’s also become, crucially, a vibe.

But here’s where it gets complicated.

For every DJ throwing sweaty, joy-fuelled underground sets, there’s a reality star doing a 45-minute iPad set at Coachella. There’s your neighbour’s cousin who played one frat party and now drops “DJ” in their Insta bio. There’s a sea of influencers playing to cameras, not crowds. We’re living in the age of the Insta-set. One angle. One drop. One moment engineered for the recap reel. Everyone is curating. Everyone is vibing. But who’s actually pushing the sound?

Culture As Currency

It’s not a crime, just a cultural shift.

We live in a world that demands visible participation in culture. Not just being in it—but broadcasting that you’re in it. You can’t just enjoy music; you must also prove that you have taste. Post your playlist. Film your transition. Hashtag your set. The DJ booth has become the new performative perch—right up there with the reading nook and the morning matcha shot.

As Ethan from View From A Bridge put it, people don’t want to be in culture. They want to be seen as the culture. In this light, DJing was almost too obvious a target. It's fun, it's visual, and it lets you hold a crowd without saying a word. It's music and main character energy rolled into one.

But here’s the rub: not everyone spinning tracks wants to headline Berghain. Some people just want to curate their own little sonic universe. In the same way that most people have sung in the shower or tried the guitar once in college, maybe this DJ boom is just a natural progression of humans expressing themselves with rhythm.

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The Real Ones

Still, for seasoned DJs—those who spent years learning how to move a room, not just impress a feed—it can feel disorienting. Even insulting. Watching someone with a ring light and two buttons land a club gig because their grid’s on-point is understandably maddening. You wouldn’t call yourself a dentist because you watched a few reels on flossing.

But here’s the thing: the stage is bigger now. There are more decks, more genres, more niches than ever before. The underground still exists. So does the polished mainstream. And the two don’t have to cancel each other out. In fact, they rarely even meet.

So, is everyone a DJ now? Maybe. Maybe not. But if you’re doing it for the love of music, the joy of connection, and the magic of making people move—whether it’s in your living room or a low-lit club—then spin on. Just know the difference between pressing play and playing the part. The crowd always can.