Blog

Stay nervous.

I just listened to a brilliant podcast between Will Clarke and headliner DJ Nic Fanciulli—someone who’s been in the game for decades.

They cover a lot. The ups and downs of the music industry. The grind of running a label. The nostalgia of those early Ibiza days. How dance music has evolved, how vinyl is making a comeback, and how community and collaboration are more vital than ever.

But what hit me hardest was this:

Nic still gets nervous. Every time.

Not at festivals—he joked it’s near-impossible to clear the floor there. But in smaller, more intimate clubs? He gets proper nervous. The kind of nervous that keeps you in the green room until the very last moment. The kind that doesn’t really settle until you’re into your second track.

Let that land.

Here’s a global headliner, who’s played every stage you can name, admitting that nerves still get him. That he still has that fire in his chest. That moment of “what if?” before he steps up.

And instead of gatekeeping that experience or brushing it off, he says it out loud. Openly. Vulnerably.

Which is rare. And honestly? Needed.

Because if you’re just starting out, or even a few years in, and you still feel nervous… good. That’s not a flaw. That’s not inexperience. That’s passion. That’s care.

It reminded me of a friend who used to act. She told me she stopped acting when she stopped getting nervous. Not because she wasn’t good anymore, but because not being nervous meant she no longer cared as much. So she shifted gears and became a director.

So maybe the nerves are the point.

Maybe the goal isn’t to eliminate them—but to stay nervous. To keep feeling. Keep caring. Keep putting yourself on the line.

Set your expectations right. Those nerves? They’re part of the ride. They don’t go away.

And honestly… they shouldn’t.

So stay nervous. It means you’re alive in the booth. It means you’re not phoning it in. It means you give a damn