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FAM Andy Pham of Dallas on Life, Lessons & Legacy

FAM Andy Pham shared their story and experiences with us recently and you can find our conversation below.

Hi FAM, thank you so much for taking time out of your busy day to share your story, experiences and insights with our readers. Let’s jump right in with an interesting one: Have any recent moments made you laugh or feel proud?
Absolutely. This past year has been filled with moments that made me both laugh and feel incredibly proud. The biggest one was marrying my beautiful wife. We somehow managed to wrap up our family photos in about twenty minutes flat, so we could actually be present at our own wedding. I remember the soft hum of conversations, the clinking of glasses, and that warm feeling of looking around the room and realizing every person there had shaped my life in some way. It felt like pressing “pause” on the world and just soaking in pure joy.

Another proud moment was releasing my first original track on a label — a song called “Feel You.” That was a true behind-the-scenes grind: long nights staring at my screen, tweaking tiny details only I’d ever notice, chasing that moment when the bass and melody finally lock into place. Hearing it out in the world — knowing it started as a quiet idea in my head — was surreal.

And then there was crossing the finish line at the BMW Marathon in 2025. The steady rhythm of footsteps, freezing temperature the burn in my legs, the crowd noise blurring into a wave of energy — it was equal parts pain, focus, and gratitude. When I crossed that line, it felt like every early morning and every ounce of discipline had gathered in one powerful moment.

This year has really felt like a culmination of years of quiet work when no one is watching — in the studio, in life, and within myself.

Can you briefly introduce yourself and share what makes you or your brand unique?
I’m a producer and DJ who discovered my creative side much later in life than most. Growing up — and even well into my corporate career — I honestly believed I didn’t have that “artistic gene.” I wasn’t the kid who painted or played piano at recitals. I was the one sitting under fluorescent office lights, feeling a little too boxed-in and convinced creativity just wasn’t part of my DNA.

Then I stumbled into DJing & music production — and everything changed.

There’s something surreal about building a track from scratch, layer by layer, and then stepping on stage to watch a room full of people move and vibe to something that once existed only in your head. That moment — when the bass drops, the lights sweep across the crowd, and you see strangers smiling at each other — that’s when I feel most alive. It’s like I finally found my canvas.

I still sometimes wish I had a classical music background — piano lessons would definitely make life easier — but my journey has become part of my brand. I’m proof with many others that you don’t need a traditional path to create. You can dive in, learn as you go, make mistakes, get curious, and still find your sound.

Okay, so here’s a deep one: Who saw you clearly before you could see yourself?
My mom saw me clearly long before I ever did. She’s always believed that if I set my mind to something, I could make it happen — even when I was unsure of myself. Growing up, I leaned into the “safe” path: education, career, stability. But through every pivot and every doubt, she never wavered. If I said I was going to do something, she simply believed me — and sometimes that faith was stronger than my own.

My friends also deserve a lot of credit. In the early days, I’d play small DJ sets at house parties, just experimenting and having fun. They were the ones telling me, “You should do this live — you belong on a bigger stage.” Their encouragement wasn’t loud or showy, but it was constant and genuine. They saw potential in something I barely recognized in myself yet.

Between my mom’s unwavering belief and my friends’ quiet confidence in me, I slowly started to see the version of myself they’d already been looking at the whole time.

Was there ever a time you almost gave up?
There have definitely been moments where I almost lost steam. Music production — and even building DJ sets — can be emotionally draining when you pour countless hours into something and the play count barely cracks a few thousand. It’s hard not to tie your sense of worth to those numbers. There were stretches where I’d look at the stats, feel that dip in motivation, and wonder if any of it really mattered.

But every time I got close to stepping back, something would reignite that spark. Sometimes it was seeing friends perform on bigger stages — reminders that the journey is long, nonlinear, and built on persistence. Other times it was simply reconnecting with why I started: the love of creating, experimenting, and expressing myself through sound. I had to remind myself that I’m doing this for me first, not for metrics on a screen.

One moment in particular stands out. A friend of mine brought me on stage during his set and let me play one of my remixes. As soon as the drop hit and I saw the crowd vibing — genuinely feeling it — it was like oxygen rushing back into the fire. That reaction, that shared energy, was the confirmation I needed. It reminded me that even if the numbers don’t always show it, the music is reaching people. And that’s what keeps me going.

So a lot of these questions go deep, but if you are open to it, we’ve got a few more questions that we’d love to get your take on. What’s a belief you used to hold tightly but now think was naive or wrong?
I used to hold tightly to the belief that becoming a touring DJ would be nothing but nonstop fun — a dream life of big stages, flashing lights, and endless adrenaline. But over time, I’ve realized that it’s not always sunshine and festivals. Watching some of my close friends who are touring opened my eyes to the reality behind the curtain — the constant travel, the sleepless flights, the pressure to always create, always perform, always stay relevant. You can see the exhaustion in their eyes, even when the crowd only sees the smile and the confetti.

It’s still magical in those peak moments on stage, and they wouldn’t trade the journey for anything — they continue to double down on their craft with so much heart. But I’ve learned that the lifestyle comes with sacrifices most people never see. That belief I once had — that touring was pure glamour — now feels a bit naive. What I respect even more now is the grit, resilience, and passion it actually takes to live that life.

Thank you so much for all of your openness so far. Maybe we can close with a future oriented question. What pain do you resist facing directly?
The pain I resist facing head-on is the question of how long I can keep making music and DJing as life grows fuller — especially as I enter parenthood and take on more responsibilities. People sometimes ask me, “So… when are you done?” And the truth is, I don’t have an answer. I’ve intentionally avoided thinking too deeply about that moment, because music has become such a core part of who I am.

I’m not ready to close that door — at least not completely. Maybe one day it won’t look like late nights and big stages. Maybe it will be a quieter version of the dream, a door left gently cracked open so I can return when life allows. I’m slowly learning to make peace with the idea that my relationship with music might evolve — and that doesn’t make it any less meaningful.

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Molly Polus

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