When did I first see them DJ? They stood out on the floor, and when they took to the DJ booth, their set felt like a perfect blend of the sophisticated tastes and complex environment of modern Saigon youth, wrapped in their unique style. We officially met at a party at The Observatory on a weekday, and after hearing their set that night, I immediately thought, "I should invite them to the next episode." Weeks later, I listened to the mix they sent me twice and muttered, "I'm glad I asked," before hitting play again.
Slowbirds
DJ-ÖRK
Ok. First thing first. It’s DJ-ÖRK, with the hyphen, with the umlaut, like Björk. Not DJ ORK, not ORK, DJ-ÖRK. One syllable.
It’s no secret that no matter what kind of music DJ-ÖRK/Dan Ni is playing, they shall do so with an intense fervour of madness. Someone once called them ‘Björk from Shopee’ and they’ve really leaned into that persona, striving to be Vietnam’s cringiest DJ. Stacked with top 40 gems and a boundless devotion for K-pop ephemeral past and present, DJ-ÖRK has bewildered many promoters and club owners alike. In fact, their music has garnered so much hate that online trolls have dedicated time and effort into making (and since then deleting) videos to unleash their venomous bile, another achievement in DJ-ÖRK’s chaotic ‘career’.
One thing you could always count on DJ-ÖRK to deliver—apart from sick outfits—is the presence of mayhem. Some say it’s musical alchemy, most say pure pandemonium. In their musical tapestries, DJ-ÖRK weaves ancestral tunes with thunderous club beats, slides in viral TikTok sound bites, or dives into the darkest corners of SoundCloud for unhinged edits. As a chaotic angel, Dan Ni wants to obliterate the illusory borders that divide—club vs. non-club, institutional vs. internet, mainstream vs. underground—all while being silly and donning the SHARPEST eyeliner in the room.