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about
Paris-born, Brooklyn-based DJ Petite Nhi brings a classically-trained ear to the underground, spinning hypnotic techno and groovy trance that bridges introspective listening and uninhibited movement. Trained in classical violin for 15 years, she developed an obsession with subtlety and narrative arc that now shapes her approach to the decks—building sets that reward deep listening while commanding the body to move. Since picking up DJing, Petite Nhi has quickly established herself in Brooklyn’s underground scene, with recent performances at Bossa Nova Civic Club, Wonderville, and Honey’s.
spotlight
What do you pay the most attention to while you’re mixing?
I'm obsessed with the synergy between rhythm and melody—specifically, how they make you feel before you even process them intellectually. Coming from classical violin, I don't listen to vocals for lyrics; I listen for the notes, the chord progressions, the way a melody shifts your emotional state. My sense of groove has evolved from jazz and funk into the hypnotic, driving rhythms of techno. They're different languages, but they both demand the same thing: your body has to move.
How has your sound changed over time — and what shaped those shifts?
I started with melodic house and techno because they felt like a natural entry point—easier phrasing, more forgiving structure. But my heart has always been in hypnotic techno and trance. As my skills have sharpened, I've been able to lean into what I actually love: the meditative pull of hypnotic grooves and the full-body euphoria of trance. Blending them feels like finding my voice.
When you’re not playing, where do you go to get inspired?
I started going to DIY basement raves in Boston—literal house parties thrown by people who cared more about the music than the money. That spirit is what I look for in NYC's underground scene. I'm constantly discovering new artists and supporting my DJ friends whenever I can. Venues like Basement, Paragon, Bossa Nova, and Nowadays are keeping that ethos alive—spaces where the focus is on the sound and the community, not just the spectacle. That's what inspires me.
What does “a safer dancefloor” actually mean to you?
As a short POC woman, I know what it's like to feel unsafe in a crowd. A safer dancefloor means I can move freely without worrying about someone invading my space—and it means clear, enforced protocols when harassment happens. Too many times, I've had to remove myself from a situation instead of the venue removing the problem. A safer dancefloor requires accountability: visible safety contacts, tracked reports, and immediate action. The music can't be transcendent if you don't feel protected.
What’s something you’ve learned about vulnerability — behind the decks and on the dance floor?
DJ-ing is all nonverbal communication — I speak through movement and sound, and the crowd responds the same way. As a perfectionist who spent fifteen years training in classical violin, letting go of control has been humbling. Mixing isn't perfect. Sets go off-script. That's where the magic is. I've learned to embrace spontaneity and trust my instincts.
How are you approaching the arc of your radio set — emotionally and conceptually?
I'm building a journey that moves between meditation and release—hypnotic techno that pulls you inward, then trance that explodes you outward. The arc is about finding your body in the groove, trusting it, and letting it take you somewhere unexpected. I want the set to feel like a conversation between control and surrender, structure and chaos. That tension is where I live as a DJ.