Jetlag, an event planning group led by NYU Music Business students, is hosting at the RadioNublu tonight, and Jane Rojanavilaivudh, better known behind the decks as Mary Jayne, is on from 3-4 a.m. She leads me into the throng of people greeting each other, getting drinks and starting to sway side to side. Red light mixed with the twirl of a purple disco ball engulfs my vision: The room is buzzing. I follow Jane downstairs to the graffiti-covered bathroom. She’s new to the DJ scene, but she’s got the coolness to fit right in with her infectious energy and bedazzled tank top reading “very sexy.”

Jane entered the music industry as an artist producing her own songs. “I feel like ever since I got into the business side, I haven’t had the time to make art,” she tells me while we dodge guests lining up for the bathroom. But with DJing, Jane has found her niche. “Somehow the balance works so well,” she says.

As she embarks on her new path of DJing, Jane finds the craft has deepened her love for music.

“I got more into house and mixing a lot of songs together that I wouldn’t usually be comfortable with,” she says. “When you make it work, it’s such a satisfying feeling, and blending between genres is so interesting to me.” 

Recently, the DJ scene has skyrocketed in popularity. This rise, however, is accompanied by the skewed perception of the craft as more of a vehicle for coolness rather than its own rightful form of art.

“I feel like people think DJs don’t really do shit and that it’s easy,” Jane confesses. “Everyone can be a DJ, but not everyone can be a really good DJ — there’s a lot of dedication and time in little details, especially when you get to scratching and all that.” 

Watching her later in the night, Jane has a grounded spirit behind the turntables, devoted solely to the beat instead of the crowd at her feet. 

“I kind of have to zone myself out a little bit and take a deep breath,” she explains while recapping her usual ritual to me. 

I can see a glint in Jane’s eyes as she remembers the feeling of being at the DJ deck.

“You’re kind of just spaced out in your old world, just you with the crowd,” she says. “It’s such a satisfying feeling when you look around the room; people are dancing, enjoying the music and you’re doing your mix, watching it from afar, but also with the crowd at the same time.” 

I quickly get her go-to track to play but the place is so busy it seems every artist is flitting around, greeting friends who came to see them play, and she has disappeared back into the sea of people. 

Right after he comes off of his set, I meet Tam Chokevikraikij, better known on stage as OrganDonor47, who’s been hunched over at the turntables, engrossed in the music.

“My favorite thing is being able to expand people’s tastes,” he says. “Finding new songs and then, you know, being able to play them for people.”

While new to the craft, Tam tells me it’s “quite simple — you go on there, you play some music, you try to get a crowd hype.”

Drawing from ’90s and 2000s grime culture’s influence of blending hip hop and jungle genres and the acid movement’s manipulation of certain filters on a DJ’s synthesizer, Tam curates a sound rather than just playing tracks one after another, filling the room with an electric energy.

“It’s very, very scary, but very, very fun,” he tells me. “It can be rough, considering you don’t know what gear you’re using sometimes. So in that regard, it’s surprising, but it’s also very rewarding.” 

As the night continues, the crowd around the set grows larger. Mosh pits ebb and flow, collecting and shedding people as songs cycle through. The last artist I meet is one of the headliners, Tyler Davis, better known as Tee Em Dee. He’s been playing for a while — a veteran DJ, if you will. 

“It came out of the pandemic,” he says, regarding his start with DJing. “Before I moved to Manhattan after college, I started exploring the live music and club scene, developing a passion for it. I was like backseat DJing.” 

As he grew more curious about the artistry of it, the free time over the course of the pandemic allowed Tyler to acclimate himself with the skills necessary to put on a good show. He credits his influence to his dad who introduced him to drumming and other artists.

“It took a couple months,” Tyler says. “But luckily I had a foundation in drumming … so the counting and the rhythm was really easy to pick up on.”

“DJing, I think, is the best way to share and express your taste in music.” 

At first glance, DJing offers a lifestyle of partying and excitement; however, its portrayal online creates misconceptions about the craft.

“Social media paints a particular picture, where people always try to put their best foot forward and show highlight clips, bangers and what not,” Tyler says. “But there’s a lot that goes on behind the scenes.”

By the time I follow Tyler back up the stairs, the party has eclipsed its peak. The handful of stragglers cling to moments from the night — the leopard print couch, the jukebox that glows like a beacon, the bartender. Some are discussing where to head next for the afters and trying to figure out whose turn it is to pay for the Uber. My ears are still somewhat buzzing from the constant stream of music, but the energy of the past few hours carries me out back into the cold with enough spirit to get me home for the night. While the city’s power grid might keep the city going, the DJs playing the small, hole-in-the-wall venues electrify the community, bringing everyone and anyone together through sound and dance.

Contact Maggie Turner at [email protected].