The DJs Behind the Sound of the Sanxtuary Issue 04 Launch

Interviewed and written by: Lucy Dover (@lucy_dover_)

At the Sanxtuary Issue 04 launch, celebrating cover stars Nxdia and Tayce, the music was never just background.

The room was filled with BIPOC and queer creatives, alongside friends and allies, and the DJs played a key role in shaping how the space felt. Across the night, three incredible Queer/BIPOC DJs Kemi, Dom and V4ND4N4 took turns behind the decks, each bringing a different approach to club music and the dance floor. What linked their sets was not genre, but intention: a clear sense of who they were playing for and the kind of environment they wanted to create. Following the incredible event, The Sanxtuary sat down with each of them to talk about their practice, their routes into DJing and how they approach the dancefloor.

V4ND4N4

For V4ND4N4, DJing feels inevitable rather than aspirational. “It feels like something I have to do, almost like it was pre-written,” she says. Growing up introverted and often feeling out of place, music became a regulating force in her life. “My iPod and Limewire soundtracked my childhood daydreams.” Although she wanted to learn from as early as her teens, the lack of visible womxn in DJ spaces meant it did not feel like a realistic path until later. That delay, however, sharpened her sense of purpose. “My mission is to bring people together, especially womxn, to experience the dancefloor as a healing space,” she explains.

Her work is underpinned by a clear political understanding of nightlife. “As a society, there’s a level to which we’re told to accept danger and violence against queer, trans and global majority people as usual,” she says. “I fundamentally think the dancefloor is a space that should be respected, as a place for people to find presence and expression within a safe container.” This belief is not abstract. It is audible in her sets and visible in the way she holds a room.

V4ND4N4’s DJ persona, V444, operates as an exaggerated articulation of self. “It’s an embodiment of my duality, sexy, sensitive and stimulating,” she says. Her sets blend genres rooted in queer self-expression, such as ghetto tech, perreo and guaracha, with sounds like GQOM, baile funk and grime, genres that remain heavily male-dominated despite their global circulation. Rather than flattening these influences, she weaves between them with intention, allowing the dancefloor to shift while maintaining a coherent emotional thread. Introducing people to unfamiliar sounds is central to her practice. “I enjoy stimulating the crowd,” she says, “introducing new genres and artists so the ecosystem of grassroots creativity stays alive.”

At the event, this approach recalibrated the room. Her set created space for womxn, Queer and BIPOC audiences within genres that have historically excluded them, particularly grime, without softening their impact. The energy in the room shifted as she caught the crowd off-guard, inviting participation rather than spectacle. This is where her sound feels most alive: in spaces that allow Queer bodies not only to attend, but to perform, move and exist without negotiation.

That same commitment extends into her curatorial work through SPYC.fm, the platform she founded to address structural gaps in the underground music landscape. SPYC.fm functions not just as a broadcast space, but as an entry point into wider industry networks, deliberately designed to move emerging artists from grassroots stages into more visible arenas.

One of the clearest examples of this is Hot Girl Sh!t, an event series developed under the SPYC.fm umbrella. The series is dedicated to showcasing underground culture through a femme-first lens, centring the work of femmes, womxn and non-binary artists across music, fashion and performance. Rather than separating sound and style, each event brings them together, treating DJ sets, live performances and runway presentations as part of the same conversation about resistance, visibility and creative power. The first edition took the form of a grime-focused showcase, featuring B2B womxn MCs alongside a runway of over 20 models, each styled in pieces by underground designers.

Importantly, Hot Girl Sh!t is structured as an industry-facing space without losing its grassroots focus. Photographers, radio bookers and event producers from platforms including Orii Community, Soho House and Reprezent Radio were invited to engage directly with the work, creating tangible routes forward for the artists involved. The results have been immediate. Missy P, who appeared on the Hot Girl Sh!t line-up, was later named in De Metal Messiah’s top 10 MCs in the UK for 2024 despite not having released original music at the time. Lesia was invited to perform at Warner Bros. in Los Angeles, while Shadev and Zubz were booked on Reprezent Radio the day after their appearance, following attendance from a grime booker. At the SPCY.fm Voices Radio takeover, producer duo The Afrosaxxons attracted A&R attention and have since entered label negotiations.

SPYC.fm also pairs emerging designers with artists, recognising that both face parallel challenges around shaping creative identity, image and visibility. When matched with care, these collaborations generate mutual growth rather than extractive exposure. V4ND4N4’s investment is visible in the platform’s extensive network and its resourceful reimagining of community exchange, building long-term infrastructure rather than relying on goodwill or trend cycles. Recent collaborations, including a showcase with Aether Magazine, have platformed over ten women and non-binary artists across multiple genres, signalling a sustained intervention into who is seen and heard. Together, these outcomes underline SPYC.fm’s role as more than a creative platform. Through careful curation and a deliberate mixing of underground culture with industry access, V4ND4N4 has built a model that supports both artistic development and economic sustainability, offering emerging talent a way forward without stripping away the politics or community at the core of their work.

As a DJ, her own career has taken rapid shape, including her first international radio feature on Rinse.FM with Jyoty. Looking ahead, she describes 2026 as a year of consolidation. “I learnt how to DJ in front of people,” she says. “Now I’m honing in on who I want to be within the industry.” With SPYC.fm radio broadcasts launching and a renewed focus on production, V4ND4N4 continues to contribute to a more vibrant and economically sustainable scene. Her work demonstrates how DJing, when paired with intentional curation, can function as both cultural practice and structural intervention.

Kemi

Kemi’s route into DJing was shaped by curiosity, movement and immersion rather than a fixed career plan. She bought decks during Covid and taught herself, but it was living and studying in Amsterdam and Manchester that deepened her relationship with electronic music and club culture. “Being immersed in different electronic music scenes and club cultures is where I truly fell in love with partying and dancefloor spaces,” she says. “At first, it was honestly about wanting to play music I liked and party for free, but over time it’s become much more meaningful.”

That shift in meaning is central to how she understands her work now. “I DJ because of the community, connection and sense of belonging that music can bring,” she explains. Her practice is explicitly relational, rooted in the emotional dynamics of the room rather than technical display alone. “My practice is very rooted in connection,” Kemi says. “I curate and play music with the intention of bringing people together, often through shared identity and nostalgia.”

Her sets reflect this approach in real time. Moving fluidly between house, R&B, amapiano and club classics, she builds gentle narrative arcs rather than sharp peaks. Tracks like Aaliyah’s One In A Million in remix form sit comfortably alongside Kaytranada’s Lite Spots or Sade’s Kiss of Life, threading familiarity through more contemporary club sounds. Elsewhere, moments like Peggy Gou’s It Makes You Forget or Moloko’s Sing It Back act as collective anchors, songs that pull people together through recognition rather than spectacle.

“What I love most about DJing is its ability to tell stories,” she says, “and to create a collective feeling in a room.” Rather than rushing the dancefloor, her selections are given time to land. “I really value building a shared emotional experience through sound,” she adds. “That sense of closeness and unity is at the core of my artistry.”

Navigating the industry as a Black, queer DJ has not been without friction. For Kemi, the challenge has often been less about technical barriers and more about recognition. “The most difficult part for me has been finding spaces where I feel truly understood and appreciated as an artist,” she says. That realisation became a turning point. “What’s helped counter that is realising that sometimes you have to create the space you’re looking for yourself.”

In response, she launched Polyjammerous, a platform centring Black women and non-binary DJs. The project is as much about atmosphere as it is about line-ups. “It’s a space where artists can freely express themselves through music,” she explains, “but it’s also about being really intentional about how the environment feels for the audience.” The audiences, she notes, are largely Black and or queer, and that intentionality is not incidental. “That care is really important to me,” she says. “It changes how people show up, how they move, how safe they feel.”

Polyjammerous reflects a wider commitment to sustainability within nightlife, resisting extractive models of visibility in favour of long-term community building. Outside of DJing, Kemi works closely with young people and women, producing creative events guided by values of support and care. “I want to keep building community and connecting with others through music,” she says. Looking ahead, she is focused on growing as a DJ and producer while continuing to collaborate with other artists and develop spaces that prioritise connection over scale. “I’m excited to create experiences that genuinely bring people together,” she adds, framing DJing not just as performance, but as a form of collective work.

Dom

Dom’s relationship to sound is shaped by movement as much as music. Originally from Malaysia, he moved to the UK at a young age, an experience that quietly informs how he listens and how he mixes. DJing began for him out of frustration rather than fantasy. After years of attending events, he became increasingly aware of poorly mixed sets and inconsistent energy. “Every time I went to events, the DJs didn’t mix well,” he says. “I’m really sensitive to sound, so I decided to do it myself.” Early inspiration came from UK club figures such as Sammy Virji, Badger, Oppidan and MPH, whose bass-forward, high-energy styles shaped his entry point.

Dom describes his DJ style as deliberately fun. “I’d say I’m a really fun DJ, bouncy, high-energy. Sometimes a bit chaotic, but in a good way,” he explains. His sets move fluidly between baile funk, garage, house, pop, R&B and breaks, resisting genre purity in favour of momentum. “My sets are about keeping the energy up and making people move rather than being too serious about it.” At the Sanxtuary launch, that translated into quick shifts and recognisable moments woven through club-heavy selections. Tracks like Doja Cat’s Boss Bitch and Paint the Town Red were mixed alongside Silva Bumpa’s House Nation and Rush On Me, keeping the pace high while switching mood. Familiar hooks from Fergie’s London Bridge and Nicki Minaj’s FTCU landed easily before sliding back into dub edits like Lockerz Dub – Work and Señorita Dub. The set felt instinctive and responsive, shaped by how the room moved rather than a fixed structure.

His experience of navigating the scene is shaped more by geography than identity. Based in Brighton, Dom is clear that he has not faced discrimination, including in relation to his Malaysian heritage, which he attributes in part to the city’s progressive and open music culture. “I don’t think people factor in who they’d want to play based on skin colour, to be honest,” he says, but is careful to to situate that experience locally. “I guess that’s just Brighton. I don’t really have a lot of experience of DJing elsewhere.” Brighton is a small city with a busy nightlife, where DJs tend to come up through student nights, DIY parties and word of mouth rather than big club circuits. A lot of bookings happen informally, through who you know and who’s already visible in the scene. In that context, Dom’s experience reflects how getting gigs in Brighton often comes down to timing and networks, rather than anything more overt.

DJing currently sits alongside his Law Masters and SQE training, with music remaining something he wants to develop organically. “I do want to take it further,” he says, “but I’ve been demotivated after trying for months to play clubs and pubs.” Still, he remains hopeful that sharing mixes and building word-of-mouth connections will lead to more opportunities. His set at the launch reflected the reality of many grassroots DJs, sustained by commitment to the craft even when access and momentum are uneven.