Sync buttons do not make DJs; training does

In a market where a USB and a TikTok can launch a booking, Tinkz argues that training protects the music and the dancefloor. “You can teach yourself, but formal learning helps you avoid bad habits and learn from people who’ve done the job. You get told the things you wouldn’t discover alone.”

When Tinkz was coming up, DJs hauled bags of CDs to gigs. Now, most arrive with a USB and headphones. Even though the barrier to entry has dropped, the expectations have not.

“It’s easier to start than it used to be, but the work is still hard. Late nights, lack of sleep, and a lot of rejection. You need rhino skin.” Her manager’s rule of thumb: it takes ten years before things fall properly into place. Of course, viral exceptions exist, but long careers usually take time.

So, what does training give you that YouTube cannot? It starts with discipline and decision-making. A good course forces you to hear and fix the small things: phrasing, gain structure, EQ restraint, and timing under pressure. These skills keep a floor from emptying when energy dips. It also widens your understanding of context, including opening vs. peak-time sets, festival vs. corporate logic, how to manage requests without losing the room, and when to pivot your crate plan because reality disagrees with your preparation.

Training also addresses the real-world admin that makes or breaks livelihoods, including invoicing, scheduling, stage logistics, and safety.

Then there is career design.

“You can’t just be a DJ anymore. If you want to play globally, you’ll likely need to be a DJ-producer, too. And you’ll need other income streams.”

Her examples range from artists who run businesses to those who build content brands. It comes down to being able to connect the dots to move students from set-building to production basics and entrepreneurial thinking.

Training also situates DJs inside South Africa’s musical heritage. Tinkz highlights how Afro-centric textures (drums, marimbas, that deep Afrotech feel) have evolved because they mix with global sounds rather than imitate them. DJs curate that conversation every weekend. Understanding where your selections come from and where they land is part of the job.

None of this means formal training is mandatory.

“Everyone has a different path. If you taught yourself on VirtualDJ, cool. If you waited years to learn properly on CDJs, also cool.” But she is clear about the upside of structured learning. For example, time saved, avoiding mistakes, and gaining mentors who shorten the distance between your study and the booth.

Of course, infrastructure matters. A formal programme provides hands-on time with club-standard gear, multiple studios, and even broadcast-adjacent spaces. Students leave with fewer surprises when they plug into a real rig.

The case for training is simple. You must respect the craft and the crowd. Also, learn to mix by ear, even if you keep sync on standby. While classrooms do not replace clubs, they support and nurture them. The rest are hours of hard work, your ears, and the stubborn love of music that got you onto the dance floor in the first place.

Iwan Pienaar is an experienced content strategist, writer, and communications advisor. The views expressed in this article are his and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publication.