Tucked away in a cosy corner of popular vinyl bar, Renae in Manchester, Faster Horses sits down with SNC Mag to discuss the highs and lows of being a touring DJ. From Amnesia closing parties, Tomorrowland in Brazil and a headline show at Albert Hall, at just 23, Joe Germains has already ticked off milestones most DJs spend a lifetime chasing.
Yet there’s no sense of self-importance. “When I’m not behind the decks, I’m in the mixer,” he admits, “I love raving, and I always will.” Germains moves easily between global bookings and local normality – the city’s best Italian restaurants, YouTube rabbit holes, loading up Minecraft on a Sunday night. It’s this duality, from international stages to Northern Quarter routine, that defines him.
Preparing for his biggest headline show.
April 17. Albert Hall. A 2,000-capacity venue that is one of the most popular clubs in the city and has hosted some of the most established names in dance music. This time, that name is Faster Horses. “My agent suggested we could do Albert Hall this year, and my first thought was, ‘this is too big.’ But my headline show at Hidden sold 800 tickets in three days. All of a sudden it was like, maybe it is time to do it.”
He’s honest about the nerves, not about the crowd but about the scrutiny that comes with modern dance culture. “Crowds can be quite judgey at times. If I play badly, everyone’s gonna be straight on TikTok. With stuff like this, I’m at the mercy of social media.”
It’s a current pressure: the idea that a moment can be clipped, reposted and dissected before you’ve even left the stage. Still, Germains isn’t reinventing himself for the occasion. “Music wise, it’ll just be what I normally do – good vibes, party music.” But this isn’t just another club slot, this is a headline show in his adopted home city. Naturally, Germains is up to the task, “I feel like I’ll have the confidence to dig a bit deeper with some of the selections.”
At Albert Hall, expect to hear the genre fluid sound Faster Horses has become known for, moving techno into progressive trance and pumping UKG. Flirting with multiple genres doesn’t concern him, “it stems from just loving music, I like soundtracking what’s going on.” The fluidity feels instinctive rather than strategic.
Before the DJ booth
Despite what the bookings might suggest, DJing wasn’t the original ambition. “I actually didn’t always want to be a DJ. I never really cared. The music came first.” Germains started producing at 12, sitting beside his dad (a music lecturer) trying to reverse engineer tracks in Logic. “I’d be sat there trying to figure out how they did it.”
A love for production spawned. Before the bookings and festival slots, Faster Horses was building his sound in Logic. Working within a hybrid of dark-room techno and progressive, euphoric trance that began to gain traction with tracks like “Europa” and “Celestial.” His sound has since evolved and recent releases lean into UK garage textures and breaks. This is epitomised by his recent wobbler “Get On Ya Knees”, which demonstrates a willingness to stretch beyond the trance-leaning framework he first became known for. Faster Horses has also secured an official release with Kerri Chandler and collaborated with Morgan Seatree, milestones that reflect both credibility and range.
Performance followed production and his first trip to Parklife left a mark and paved the way for a career in dance music. “I’d never been to anything like that. I remember seeing it all and being like, this would be cool to do.” Then lockdown stripped everything back. “Sitting in my parents’ house watching sets on YouTube, I realised I’d love to be able to control a crowd the way they’re doing it.”
Manchester: Finding home
Manchester’s music heritage needs no introduction, but it’s worth setting the scene. The Northern Quarter alone now houses vinyl listening bar Renae, recently expanded with a new upstairs room, alongside small-capacity late-night spot Unit 3, a stripped-back club space built around a pumping soundsystem. It’s a city where genres, cultures and communities overlap: the type of environment that draws music artists in and keeps them here.
Born in Liverpool but never fully identifying with it, Manchester became the first place that felt like his. “It was the first place where I was like, I finally feel at home.” For Germains, it wasn’t just about legacy or reputation. It was about the environment and atmosphere. “The whole vibe felt like me. There’s a freedom here to express yourself without feeling weird for it.”
His rise wasn’t built on strategic networking. It came from loving raving and being present at The White Hotel, at The Warehouse Project, at local nights where the dancefloor mattered more than the lineup poster. For Germains, Manchester operates less like an industry ladder and more like a community: mutual respect, shared spaces, a common understanding of what the music means. Manchester was built for the underground and one that continues to shape the artists who commit to it.
“I was never trying to make it. I’d go out because I liked the Teletech headliner. I liked being around that crowd.” He talks about slipping backstage not to pitch himself, but because he genuinely enjoyed it. That authenticity matters. “If you surround yourself with people who only care about the DJ thing, it’s very easy to slip into that bubble.”
Most of his friends were around long before the bookings, that grounding still shapes him and is a reason how he maintains humility.
Desensitised to success?
It’s easy to forget he’s just turned 23. Last summer alone included the closing parties at Amnesia, major European clubs and an offer to play EDC Las Vegas – declined due to visa timing. “I’ve become quite desensitised to it, to be honest.”
But… What if he knew this when he was only just starting out? “Tell me at 17 I’d be playing the Amnesia closing parties and flying to Brazil to play Tomorrowland, I’d be like, shut up.” The scale only sinks in afterwards.
“There’ll be times when I get home on a Sunday night, sit in front of my TV and load up Minecraft. That’s when it really kicks in. I think wow, that was a really mental weekend.” Going from global festival stages to playing minecraft in his Angel Meadows flat seem worlds apart, but its where perspective settles.
The highs and lows
Success, he admits, isn’t a constant high. “I get such a big dopamine rush from DJing.” The comedown however can be harder to manage. “I’ve found it harder to relax recently. I’m always kind of chasing that next high… which isn’t really that nice and something I’m speaking to my therapist about”. There’s a self-awareness there that feels rare, as Germains seeks sauna sessions at Fix, another Northern Quarter establishment, and attending the gym as deliberate attempts to regulate a life that runs at festival tempo.
Being a DJ permits a life on the road, often in between hotel rooms and airports, it rarely offers an opportunity to actually travel. However, over the winter period, Germains was lucky enough to visit the idyllic paradise beaches of Thailand, even venturing to Chinese metropolises with bullet trains, limited phone signal and even less spoken English.
“There’s nothing like handing out the back of a truck with people I met 15-minutes ago”. Germains talks fondly of his recent experience travelling, “it was out of my comfort zone in a good way and was the first time ever where I felt of freedom”.
More than the clubs, more than the stages, that’s what seems to matter. “I’ve got the financial freedom to do this and feel good about it.” No bravado. Just gratitude.
The Future: “I just want to play cool shows”
Ask him about long-term goals and the answer is simple: “I just want to play cool shows.” America is high on the list, the Netherlands too as “they’re throwing the best parties right now.” He mentions Space Miami, more festivals, more music. No manifesto. No ten-year blueprint. Kerri Chandler is the dream B2B. “Michael Gray – The Weekend” is still the go-to last track.
“It sort of feels like we’re just getting there.”
Albert Hall in April. Australia after that. For someone who insists he’s still figuring it out. The trajectory suggests otherwise.