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It’s a late November afternoon, the time where the fragile daylight fades, giving way to a dull, dusky haze. In a dimly lit East London café, strings of fairy lights illuminate the walls, casting a warm, gentle glow into the air. It is here we meet Jane Fitz. Immersed in this inviting ambience, we settle in to explore her free-spirited take on being an artist and the essence of a strong, authentic community.
Fearless authenticity
‘At its best, DJing is about freedom, creativity, and connecting with people in the most genuine way possible’, Jane casually shares, keeping one eye on her cheeky chocolate dog, Aubrey. With his big paw, he gives the chair a playful poke. She beckons him over with a nurturing touch. ‘Authenticity comes from doing things for the right reasons. If it’s not genuine, it won’t last.’
She speaks from the heart with an ease that suggests complete presence. The answers flow naturally, embodying the authenticity she describes. Fitz is known for true, storytelling submersion in marathon-long vinyl sets - a kind of artistry that only comes from decades of dedication. It is this, combined with her treasure trove of hidden wax gems unearthed from dusty crates across the globe, that has earned her big respect in the industry.
‘I like to feel part of something, to help, give, and build'
A cementing experience of this was at Brave! Factory Festival, a party in Kyiv from Closer that perfectly balances raw DIY ethos with expert curation and production. It was 2021, around 9:00 am on a Monday. Jane was on closing duties with a sunrise set - a classic Fitz slot - with an atmosphere feeling as though it was on the edge of a dream.
Orchestrating what felt like an entire ecosystem, Fitz soundtracked an explosively communal celebration. She wove together an eclectic narrative that ebbed and flowed with precision, sliding through an abyss of trippy old-skool trance, proggy pacemakers, acid-synched house, deep tribal, tentative minimal, and undefinable cosmic belters. When things felt a little comfortable, she would throw out a surprise banger, resetting the energy and vibe.
The same occurred during her Waking Life Monday morning closing set with Marco Shuttle in 2024. Soft mist rose from the lake, wrapping itself around a beautiful tapestry of people from different walks of life after five days of the fairytale festival. Strangers danced with comfortable familiarity while others swayed quietly on the fringes, lost in private worlds conjured by the same soundscape. This interplay between the collective and the individual, the external and the internal, felt like an innately special collective experience.
Reminiscing the Brave! Factory Festival, Jane adds: ‘In Ukraine, the energy is unmatched. The relationship I have with the place is incredibly deep.’ She leans back, reflecting with warmth and conviction: ‘People are truly there for the music, not for the image or the status of being at a party.’
Freedom in limitation
As a through and through vinylist with a collection of around 12000 records, the act of selecting is both a disciplined ritual and a source of creative liberation. 'The limitations of the record bag give me a hell of a lot of freedom’, she explains, acknowledging the obscure paradox: ‘If I turned up with a USB stick with 10,000 tunes on it, that's a disaster - chaos, panic, complete indecision, you know?’ She smiles coyly, dwelling on the alternate reality of playing digital. ‘Give me the limitations, and then within those limitations, I can be as free as I like.’
‘Being authentic means trusting yourself and the records you’ve chosen’, she adds. ‘When I arrive at the club, my work is already done. Now all I have to do is respond to what I see, feel, and hear.’ It’s this balance of preparation and spontaneity that allows Fitz to truly connect with the room, diving deeply into the mind, tinkering with those neurotransmitters while resonating with the energy of the space. ‘I like to tell my story, play my records and leave people feeling enriched in certain ways. Show people your connection to music, it’s not about showing off.’
When asked about what her "story" consists of, Jane explains that it’s not about having something specific to say. Instead, it’s a dynamic feedback loop between the environment and the crowd, a trust that elevates the freedom of the dancefloor. ‘Mutual respect is really important for me. There should be some kind of loyalty between us both, the way it works in a normal relationship. You respect the crowd, they respect what you’re doing.’
I’ll give you an example, Jane says assertively: ‘Two weekends ago in Mexico, the crowd were proper party people. They weren’t fussed about me being there. It made me feel I could be more cheeky, prod, and tease a bit. I want to challenge people and see them having a bloody good time. Don’t give them what they expect’, she expands on her mixing style. ‘Sometimes it’s about saying, “no, you’re getting this track now”. There’s an element of bloody-mindedness which I think is important. All the best sets I’ve heard are when the DJ has been unafraid of mistakes. If the crowd is respectful, intelligent, and truly listening, I’m gonna push myself more as well.’
Freedom in limitation
As a through and through vinylist with a collection of around 12000 records, the act of selecting is both a disciplined ritual and a source of creative liberation. 'The limitations of the record bag give me a hell of a lot of freedom’, she explains, acknowledging the obscure paradox: ‘If I turned up with a USB stick with 10,000 tunes on it, that's a disaster - chaos, panic, complete indecision, you know?’ She smiles coyly, dwelling on the alternate reality of playing digital. ‘Give me the limitations, and then within those limitations, I can be as free as I like.’
‘Being authentic means trusting yourself and the records you’ve chosen’, she adds. ‘When I arrive at the club, my work is already done. Now all I have to do is respond to what I see, feel, and hear.’ It’s this balance of preparation and spontaneity that allows Fitz to truly connect with the room, diving deeply into the mind, tinkering with those neurotransmitters while resonating with the energy of the space. ‘I like to tell my story, play my records and leave people feeling enriched in certain ways. Show people your connection to music, it’s not about showing off.’
When asked about what her "story" consists of, Jane explains that it’s not about having something specific to say. Instead, it’s a dynamic feedback loop between the environment and the crowd, a trust that elevates the freedom of the dancefloor. ‘Mutual respect is really important for me. There should be some kind of loyalty between us both, the way it works in a normal relationship. You respect the crowd, they respect what you’re doing.’
I’ll give you an example, Jane says assertively: ‘Two weekends ago in Mexico, the crowd were proper party people. They weren’t fussed about me being there. It made me feel I could be more cheeky, prod, and tease a bit. I want to challenge people and see them having a bloody good time. Don’t give them what they expect’, she expands on her mixing style. ‘Sometimes it’s about saying, “no, you’re getting this track now”. There’s an element of bloody-mindedness which I think is important. All the best sets I’ve heard are when the DJ has been unafraid of mistakes. If the crowd is respectful, intelligent, and truly listening, I’m gonna push myself more as well.’
Fostering a community
This interplay between artist and crowd, the reciprocal dynamic, might be the core of what Fitz sees as a healthy music community. With decades of experience spanning continents, Jane has witnessed firsthand what makes a strong, authentic community thrive. In an industry where the term is often overused, commercialised, and entangled with hierarchy, Fitz reflects on what it truly means to foster genuine connection.
‘For me, being part of a community goes back to authenticity - being true to yourself and offering the real part of who you are. Without that, you’re just this week’s DJ’, she says. ‘I like to feel part of something, to help, give, and build. That’s why I enjoy playing alongside local DJs, hearing what their scene is all about, and understanding what informs their music, both technically and culturally.’
Cultural commentators like Elijah have even created visual tools to challenge perceptions, urging us to reconsider the purpose of a DJ within these spaces. As, ultimately when scenes primarily focus inward without room for growth or evolution, they risk imploding rather than flourishing into new, exciting and prosperous realms.
'No one’s better than anyone else'
Thoughtfully lingering on the subject, with a pause that adds a weighty importance to her words, Fitz points out that every community is shaped by its unique context - whether it’s a small clubbing scene, venue-based, or a queer community. Sensitivity to the defining factors of these spaces - geographical, cultural, or musically - is, she emphasises, essential. ‘The most important thing is to make people feel welcome, important, and equal. That way, your community just forms naturally. You know, it’s no magic. It’s just treating people with respect.’
She reflects on her own experience with Night Moves, the London-based party she co-founded with Jade Seatle in 2012. ‘A key part of this was abolishing the concept of guestlists. One thing we consciously did was that every single person would pay for this party. Unless they work for us or they booked us, we would give something back. No one’s better than anyone else. I hate guestlists.’ By removing unnecessary social divisions, Jane cultivated a space where respect was at the core, allowing the community to form naturally, without the constraints of a predetermined structure.
Shifting paradigm of club culture
In an evolving digital landscape increasingly shaped by algorithms and curated personas, Jane Fitz stands as a reminder of what lies at the heart of club culture: passion, skill, and community. Conscious of how times have changed, we ask Jane whether she thinks it's possible to replicate the same kind of hedonistic, rebellious, and free-spirited essence when throwing parties in a world so fixated on image - and if so, how?
‘Yes, absolutely. I think you need a bit of knowledge. For me, it’s really important to have a mix of ages at the party, so the new, younger generation can learn from seasoned clubbers who can share their knowledge. Suddenly, parties are just people of all the same age, and I think, how are younger people meant to learn? How to be a respectful clubber, how to treat each other?’
An emphasis on intergenerational connection highlights a way forward in building community, yet the imminent backdrop of contemporary nightlife pertains to undeniable challenges. Social media has become an indispensable, invaluable tool for gaining recognition, but it often feels at odds with the values of authenticity. What advice has Jane for younger DJs trying to get noticed for their craft while fostering a genuine connection with their scene?
‘Start with your friends’, she begins. ‘Don’t put yourself on a pedestal or tell people you’re brilliant. Don’t put your face or appearance in the middle of everything, showing how cool you are. Show people your connection to music and find the people who are into what you’re doing. Stay small for a while until you simply cannot. Don’t be overambitious.’
While Jane critiques the obsession with image, she acknowledges the inevitability of using social media as a tool. Her perspective suggests a balance - using digital platforms to showcase craft and connect with similar creatives while avoiding the pitfalls of ego and performativity. Additionally, she notes connectivity allows one to learn more about new music scenes and cultures: ‘it also gives you a chance to do your homework. Get informed.’
Onwards
The future of clubland may feel precarious, especially with the Nighttime Industries Association reporting over 100 independent clubs lost in the UK over the past 12 months. Jane attributes much of this decline to the gentrification of urban spaces, a worsening housing crisis, and the economic strain on both venues and attendees.
‘It’s heartbreaking’, she admits with palpable compassion as we briskly walk through the frosty evening, leaving the café behind while Aubrey cheerfully zigzags ahead of us. I feel sorry for young people who can’t experience the same opportunities I had growing up in London in the late ’80s and early ’90s - it was so rich. So many clubs were open every night of the week, all sorts of venues, squats, warehouses...gentrification has decimated nightlife in London.’
Despite the warranted nostalgia, Fitz expressed that with intention and care, the essence of club culture - connection, joy, and authentic expression - can persist. ‘Let loose. Forget your lives. Have fun with your mates. That’s it. There’s a philosophy in a nutshell, really - let loose, have fun.’
