By David John Chávez
Any visit to an event town like Las Vegas will feature a bazillion billboards advertising your next life-changing entertainment experience, right at your fingertips. The hottest entertainers, biggest and baddest comedians, or a delicious dive into steak and eggs for $2.99, as long as you’re willing to devour a gargantuan hunk of meat between 11 p.m. and 6 a.m.
Yet you’ll notice the DJs spinning nightly all have something in common. Tiësto, Zedd, Calvin Harris, even a literal marshmallow – DJs people spend thousands to see, along with bottle service in VIP rooms, are all men.
That type of gender limitation certainly exists in the Bay Area, where prime gigs often go to DJ dudes who’ve been in the game for some time. Yet in the Bay, where hip-hop culture and all things hyphy hit a little different, there are many notable women and female-identifying people who spin to live and live to spin.
This is the first in an occasional Substrate Arts series on female DJs in the Bay.
DJ Lady Ryan
While Lady Ryan loves her some soul music, her DJ repertoire is much more expansive. It’s an open-format world, and based on where she’s plying her trade, there’s little she can’t or doesn’t do. Her look is distinguished – long dreadlocks, statement piercings, and a smile that disarms with ephemeral beauty. Gettin’ it at a house party, bangin’ out slaps at a corporate event, or spinnin’ in the front yard of the Dubs, Lady Ryan is easy to spot and hard to define.
“A lot of times I kind of get into one genre and I’ll get a little bit bored in it,” said Lady Ryan, who also simply goes by Ryan. “I really enjoy being able to be diverse in sound. I play hip-hop, and love nostalgia and throwbacks.”
Those throwbacks are straight vibes that Ryan leans into, often pumping her fist with the crowd. Her selections can morph from Benjiflow afro-pop and afro-beat directly into some tropical rhythms, the Lady Ryan swing in full effect as she doesn’t just play the music, but feels it.
Lady Ryan is everywhere: Who are you hearing at a Warriors game when you hang out in the Thrive City courtyard to enjoy some pre and post-game beats? It’s Lady Ryan dropping those. How about a San Francisco Giants game when another popular open-format spin master, DJ Umami, takes a few dates off? Yup, you guessed it. That’s not to mention clubs all over the Bay, including plenty of gigs in Oakland, and also on KALW 91.7, where she hosts a segment Wednesdays from 10 to midnight.
Ryan’s pathway to DJ life kicked off in a serendipitous way. Back in 2006, she was interested in producing music and making beats, so collecting records was the way to go. While she worked as a receptionist at a vocational school, a student let her know he was selling all his DJ equipment. Ryan had no particular connection with this student, making the interaction feet fateful.
“He was selling everything he had, turntables and stuff, and I talked to my parents about it,” Ryan recalled nostalgically. “They weren’t very encouraging about me spending $1200, because that was the first time I ever had savings, and I was going to spend it all. They said no, and I cried because I turned him down. But he came back to me one more time and said he still had two turntables and a mixer, and I was like, OK. So I went for it and did it anyway.”
“The paradox within that is that we want to be hired because we’re good at what we do, not because we’re women,” Ryan emphasizes, her voice stoic.
Ryan had the purchase she wanted, savings drained, parentals more than likely irked, but the next problem awaited – how the hell do you use this stuff?
Fortunately, one of Ryan’s mentors was legendary DJ fixture, Mellanique “DJ Black” Robicheaux, who took Ryan under her wing. It was a master class in mixology, one that paid dividends immediately. Before DJing kicked off and Ryan was doing more singing in bands, she found herself at Black’s house to do some recording. Little did she know, a mentorship was on the verge of changing her trajectory.
“Black told me to show her my set list and so the first record I pulled out was Roberta Flack, music that wouldn’t necessarily go over in a dance club, probably. I didn’t know because I had not been to a club. So when she saw that, she simply said, ‘I’m going to teach you’ and it really just unfolded in a way I could have never predicted.”
Ryan’s fledgling DJ career had honest, humble roots; she practiced her craft and got her name out through charity and fundraising events. Not long after, she landed her first residency at Oakland’s White Horse, one of the oldest gay bars in the country.
“From there, I realized I could make my rent.”
Not only did DJ work keep a roof over her head, but making a living that didn’t just mean playing weddings on weekends was now her reality. Plus, another momentous shift was about to take place.
In 2011, five years after purchasing that DJ equipment, Ryan was offered a residency at the now-shuttered Kingman’s Lucky Lounge on Grand Avenue in Oakland. For her, it meant a huge expansion. She continues to be iconic in the LGBTQIA+ community, but landing that gig did wonders for her career among a mainstream crowd.
Ryan was coming into her own as a DJ. Having the respect of her own community, a group that saw her as one of them, was a critical first step to relevance and authenticity – music fans can sniff out a fake like no other. But Ryan’s desire to be a DJ to serve all crowds, all people, all cultures and communities, meant that relevance to a cross-section of Bay Area DJ followers was in her sights, but not yet in full focus.
“I’m in the (LGBTQIA+ community) and I’ve always not wanted to be pigeon-holed in that regard. That gave me even more visibility in another community, and things started kind of taking off from there, as far as folks asking me to open for them or guesting at well-known events.”
Non-male DJs still deal with the perception that prime opportunities won’t always go to female and female-identifying professionals. Ryan continues to control what she can, doing her part to ensure that someday a female DJ might go by a much more desired and earned moniker – simply, a DJ.
“But I have to remind myself that I am totally worthy of this. I’ve worked really hard to get where I’m at and deserving of these opportunities.”
“This is just my opinion, but I think when people want to book, a lot of times women may not come to mind, unfortunately. When we are booked, it’s like a concerted effort to make sure there’s diversity, and sometimes that doesn’t happen at all. We have discussions amongst ourselves, and it’s not surprising. But I’m glad to see there are some folks stepping up to make things more diverse.
“The paradox within that is that we want to be hired because we’re good at what we do, not because we’re women,” Ryan emphasizes, her voice stoic.
And Ryan is very good at what she does. Since 2006, she has put both her mind and her grind on her career. She’s shared stages with George Clinton, Erykah Badu, and Anderson .Paak, and in 2016, East Bay Express readers voted her “Best DJ Who Dabbles in Every Scene.” Hard work has put her in a place where rewards are now ready for full reaping.
“When I get these phone calls or emails for these huge gigs, it’s really exciting, and they’re pinch-me moments,” said Ryan, with the self-assuredness of someone in the throes of a kick-ass career on pace to get ever brighter. “But I have to remind myself that I am totally worthy of this. I’ve worked really hard to get where I’m at and deserving of these opportunities.”
Say this for DJ Lady Ryan – like the place she fills with music at the Chase Center, she continues to thrive.
Instagram – djladyryan
DJ Del
Dell Lee’s journey in the Bay Area DJ scene started in New York City’s Lower East Side. Making it out west to study graphic design at Oakland’s Laney College, Lee, aka DJ Del, got started in the early 2000s, picking up the art of DJing when she was only twenty. While the Lower East Side offered up cultural opportunities aplenty in the heart of one of America’s great cities, Lee carved out an entirely new opportunity in the Bay Area, and the grittier and hyphier East Bay in particular.
In those early days, Lee, who identifies as non-binary trans femme and uses she/they pronouns, started off as a battle DJ doing scratching and really quick mixes. But in recent years, Lee has taken full advantage of the opportunity to expand upon how necessary versatility is to a DJ, utilizing four decks for gigs, which Lee says is not something lots of electronic music teachers are really doing nowadays. Four decks mean two extra decks sit silent, songs cued and ready to go but on the verge of bypassing the DJ and entering the party at a very precise moment. Two decks in play, two other decks on deck. With her thin spectacles, black curls, and intense tattoos, it’s how Lee rolls. She’s just that damn good.
“My style is, basically, when I’m doing drag shows, I play top 40 and whatever else they want,” said Lee with a quizzical pensivity as to how she got a reporter sliding into her DMs to interview her in the first place. “When I’m DJing raves, I get to play more high energy like Jersey and Baltimore club. More recently, in the past few years, a lot of my friends have really liked cyber trance throwbacks, and I’ve been making remixes of songs like that.”
The underground scene was at the heart of what Lee felt the most passion for.
“When I came out here, I was fresh out of high school, and just fell in love with (the scene),” Lee reflects wistfully. “The rave scene back then was super poppin’, and we were going to all these awesome raves. They were happening like that all the time, way before the Ghost Ship fire.”
That fire, which began at an unlawful artists’ collective in December of 2016 and caused 36 deaths, exposed the potential horrors of the underground scene, which Lee was very much a part of.
“Cops were really cracking down on not-so-legal venues because of that fire,” Lee recalls.
Despite the crackdown, folks like Lee and others within the scene continued to reinvent themselves and provide avenues to produce art.
“…That feeling of just being able to throw on that third or fourth song and hear other people’s reaction to it, you literally feel the ground shaking to the beat.”
“Post-COVID, a lot of my friends that were underground or threw underground events began moving to legal venues. One of my friends actually is now opening up a venue in SOMA, which is pretty much a POC, trans and queer centered event space.”
Carving out spaces was not always easy in those early days in Oakland, but now, Lee’s work is different.
“It just feels like now everyone wants to book a transgender DJ,” Lee says with a hearty chuckle. “It was really rough at first, back seven or eight years ago, and it was really rough just being a queer trans-femme trying to center events. But after doing them for so long, I’ve had people come up to me to talk about events that we threw. I’ve had people come up to me and talk about events that we threw 10 years ago that they still remember.”
Lee is now at a point in life where years and experience add up, making them something of an icon.
“I think it’s wild that people have definitely called me a legend, and it’s also kind of wild to think about how long I’ve been doing this,” Lee says, reflecting on the rapidity of years flying by. “I did a radio interview a few months ago, and to hear them talk about music and specific events I did is wild.”
For Lee, a significant aspect of her work is the impact left on an audience. Much of that, she says, comes from meticulous planning crucial to her signature setup.
“Most of the time I spend is just in preparation of having all of my mixes on cue and on point, everything ready to go. The way I DJ, when you’re doing four decks you don’t really have too much room for error, so it’s really high risk,” says Lee, who loves the challenge of an unusual artform. “But it’s also just super high rewards. That feeling of just being able to throw on that third or fourth song and hear other people’s reaction to it, you literally feel the ground shaking to the beat.”
Lee has entered a new tier inside the DJ world. That East Bay grind is something she embodies, and now, after more than 20 years in the game, Lee continues to find ways to share a unique form of artistry.
“When I first started DJing here … it was really kind of difficult to break into underground raves and other club events, so it’s really nice to have that recognition nowadays.”
Del’s next show is at the huge Club Six, as one of nine DJs at a “techno party with a real underground spirit.” Unsurprisingly, the night is called Full Speed Ahead.
Instagram – @inebriatedfelon
DJ DeeAndroid
Known to the masses as DJ DeeAndroid, Diane Medina’s roots are firmly in mentorship and community. As a student at San Francisco State, she connected with that school’s Asian American community, leading to DJ engagements with many Filipino community and hip-hop events – her early days of networking. In 2001, she became part of a collective called Sisters of the Underground, a group of DJs lending their talents to the community, and Medina also started teaching DJ and hip-hop skills in San Francisco and Berkeley after-school programs.
Medina felt a big shift, though, in 2003. While music has never been a full-on career for her, it was also more than a hobby.
It was around that time Medina joined her sister at a rave at Planet Rock in Oakland, where she witnessed a DJ collective that changed her perception of what a spin master could do. Legendary turnablists Invisibl Skratch Piklz, led by DJ Q-bert, Mixmaster Mike and Shortkut, mesmerized young Medina. DJing, she suddenly realized, was not just a hobby, but an artform.
“They were using the turntables as an instrument, and ever since then, I kind of felt this was what I wanted to do,” Medina says, remembering the sheer dexterity of what these artists were able to do with a needle on hot wax. “It unfolded a whole world where DJing and hip-hop music was the center of my life.”
She started her own collective, Skratchpad, along with co-creator Celskiii and a handful of other ambitious DJs in May of 2003 – a move that nudged her away from hobby status and into a lifestyle. While Medina has not made the DJ life her full-time gig, it’s definitely the way people know her: the jet black hair, the stylish earrings, the sporty jackets with Adidas stripes, and above all, the fingers that move at warp speed. Balancing it all hasn’t been easy; even before becoming a mom, gigging three to five times a week and traveling around the country was her normal. Ultimately, she found life on the road unappealing; lugging equipment from event to event, living out of a suitcase, and plain homesickness caused the more basic aspects of roadlife to lose their luster.
“…It still feels like a boy’s club. Now, there’s more women involved, but it would be nice if there was more representation on stage, because there’s not enough women.”
Medina recognizes the roads she and her colleagues have carved out for women DJs, and appreciates those who identify with her and her challenges, whether dealing with misogyny, male gatekeeping, or reaching for the stars while trying to be the best mom she can be.
“You know, from the time I was out there, there’s always been female DJs on the scene,” Medina quickly points out, keeping in mind that women have been breaking hip-hop barriers for years. “A lot of times we were behind the scenes, and even when (Skratchpad) was on tour with artists like KRS-One, you still felt the friction and tension between men, women, and hip-hop.”
As Medina knew the critical nature of representing other women in the business, she made certain that her work was clean and on-point.
“There were a lot of times when the sound guy would be a jerk, and try to treat me as if I didn’t know what I’m doing. But once he would see my skills, then the tables turned real quick.” She also knew she had the talent to be on stage with anyone, and didn’t need to wait to be accepted by the many men who served as gatekeepers for the prime gigs.
“It’s almost like every time, you’re being judged by what someone thinks you are. You’re Asian, you’re Filipina, you must be submissive or like, I don’t know. It still feels like a boy’s club. Now, there’s more women involved, but it would be nice if there was more representation on stage, because there’s not enough women.”
While those reductive standards may be applied to her from those full of ignorance, she only uses it to shove someone’s misogyny right back into their face.
“One thing that’s satisfying is when I show up and someone treats me poorly, and once I show them what I do, they instantly change their vibe and energy and just treat me like, ‘Wow, you’re amazing.’ …The truth will win out, and that is very cool to me.”
Medina has accomplished plenty in her life, and in some ways, her DJ life today is better, more balanced. Both of her children accompany her on gigs, seeing firsthand why their mom is known by many. And at this point in Medina’s career, she knows who she is and what she brings to the table.
“Sometimes I feel like I’m curating this for everyone else to have fun, but there are genuine people who come up and thank me for building community, and that’s something that touches my heart.”
“There’s a lot of hardship in this type of work, and there are still challenges. I’m not one of those DJ women who is after status or fame, and I’m not showing my body or legs to acquire something. This is really about my skills, community, and speaking something that’s positive and good. And of course, when you do this community work, there’s always like an asshole or weirdo, but I kind of have to grab myself and remember there’s a greater purpose.”
But one thing hasn’t changed for her, and it gets her audibly choking back tears.
“There’s a lot of blood, sweat and tears doing community work,” she says, reflecting on more than 20 years centering her skills for the greater good. “Sometimes I feel like I’m curating this for everyone else to have fun, but there are genuine people who come up and thank me for building community, and that’s something that touches my heart.”
Spinning a favorite track to brighten someone’s day, or scratching with high degrees of artistry so her kids can say, “That’s my mom,” certainly contributes to what “greater purpose” truly means.
Instagram – @deeandroid
While these DJs have the skills and knowledge that makes them unique, the thread that connects them is pure joy. Music has the power to shape tears of both sadness and thrill, to call forth euphoria and melancholia. Great music can tell anyone’s story, and each of these unique, professional DJs helps audiences tell theirs. It goes without saying, but we’re saying it – these three DJs make the Bay Area a better, more badass place, one mix, scratch, one track at a time. Or maybe even four at a time.