The Sitch Magazine

Let’s face it: The DJ is one of the essential elements of any function—if not the most important. Responsible for setting the tone (or killing the vibe), the DJ is both the infrastructure and the energy fueling the party. From the bumping club bops at The Underground to the vivacious dancefloors at The Heretic, 4WestATL, The Eagle, and more, often, the DJ is the reason why patrons choose to attend a party on a given night in Atlanta—undoubtedly. 

In today’s music culture, DJing has evolved into both a performance and a flex, especially on social media. Everyone with a curated playlist and a controller seems ready to claim their title, stake, or recognition, but few truly understand the art. With DJing essentials being more accessible than ever and clout chasing at an all-time high, everyone wants to spin—but not everyone knows how to move a room.

We sat down with three of the hottest DJs—DJ Calypso, DJ Whipp Appeal and DJ EGO—spinning in Atlanta event after event and night after night. Each brings a distinct sound, bold perspective and a few unfiltered thoughts on the current state of music in the city. From defining what it means to be a DJ to dragging the internet’s obsession with mashups, nothing was off-limits. 

So grab something to two-step in with your favorite drink in hand, and let’s scratch beneath the surface and get into the mix.

[Tap into the South’s style, sound, and scene as soon as it happens. Subscribe to Sitch and never miss a beat.]

If you had to write a tagline about your DJ style, how would you describe it in three words—no overthinking? 

DJ Calypso: Authentic, storytelling, unexpected. I highly dislike it when people can guess what you’re going to play next, but it’s essential to take your listeners on a journey. 

DJ EGO: Dancing, energetic and storytelling. I want my sets to make sense—within the space and the theory of the mix. 

DJ Whipp Appeal: Nostalgic, addicting, authentic. I love expanding people’s minds through different genres with an open format. I love showing people that Black music is truly all music and giving them a moment of discovery, whether it’s a new genre they didn’t know they’d like or just a good time.

What non-musical influences do you use to shape your DJ style?

DJE: People shape my set—plain and simple. I’m African. I have a vibe, energy and sound. But it has to mesh with the energy of the space I’m taking up—I can’t underscore that enough. Nothing is worse than someone not being mindful of the space they’re occupying and ruining everyone’s evening. 

DJC: I’ve always said I wanted to be a musical supervisor for TV shows and movies because nobody watches any production without the correct type of music accompanying the scene. Imagine how awkward that would be. This interest helped me hone my ability for storytelling and making [my sets] make sense. I’m very intentional and want my sets to be cohesive.

DJWA: Yeah, it sucks when you’re watching a show, and the song doesn’t fit in the show. But shows like Harlem and Insecure had superb music selections. As for my non-musical influence, I would say I’m my non-musical influence. As a kid, I was very curious, and I tapped back into this essence in my adult life. When you pull up to a show, you’ll catch me playing The Backyardigans or jingles and advertisements from our childhoods—like the JG Wentworth or Education Connection ones, because there was a time when those songs went off. However, I always try to keep my childhood self intact because that’s something society tries to dim. Those who stay in touch with this side of themselves often face ridicule, but they feel more authentic—being well-rounded and eclectic breeds magic.

DJE: Yeah, I hate a Top 100s set—it’s like, where’s your character?

This might get a little messy, but I must ask, what’s a DJ trend y’all wish would retire from the scene?

DJC: TikTok mashups. They have become so popular, but I feel like it’s so prevalent to the point where people are mashing up songs just for the sake of doing it.

DJE: Hello?!

DJWA: People are mixing two songs that are on the polar opposite of the musical chart, and you can hear it, and it doesn’t make a lick of sense. 

DJE: It’s like two seconds of this makes sense, but a whole two minutes leaves us clueless. 

DJC: And then people try to throw them into sets—baby, this is real life, not TV. You’re not creating a viral moment, babe. You must read the crowd, too. You have people mixing Chief Keef with Tame Impala. C’mon, man. It’s confusing.

DJWA: Also, a part of the art that’s missing—with the popularity of social media DJs—is music theory. Phrases, beats, bars, right? I’ve been to locations in Atlanta, no shade, where the DJ is popular, but when I listen to their set, they’re not playing on key and out of phrase; it’s sad. However, because the audience only knows this person for their clout, they tend to give them a pass. 

A big part of DJing is building a persona that creates the vibe you need to feel protected and in your zone during a set. How did you develop yours?

DJE: During a challenging time in my life, with the help of my therapist, I realized I had an interest in music, and I stumbled into becoming a DJ. For my DJ name, it’s a slightly more convoluted story. I was a psychology major in college, and the study uses Sigmund Freud’s theory of personality, which explains the ego, superego and Id. Morals and societal compasses govern the superego. The Id is the pleasure-seeking, instant-gratification part of the brain, while the ego is a mix of both. So, visions of ego means, when you see me, it’s through your own ego. When you listen to my music, it’s through your own ego. The feeling you’re experiencing is about your ego; I’m just helping you find yourself and whatever you need to explore.

DJWA: People don’t know that whip appeal is an old term, which means you’re p*ssy whipped—but cleaner. Whip appeal means somebody put something on you that makes you want to do whatever you tell them to do. When I’m behind the deck, whatever I want y’all to do, I’m exuding this energy. If I want you to dance, I’m giving the vibe to make you do it literally. So, I combined this enticing essence with my last name [Whipp], and we’re stuck.

DJC: My name and my entire ethos are about community. Calypso was a name I felt mirrored my music tastes as well as my sense of self, and it’s fab and different—simply put. 

In life, creating your wave of motion can be difficult without having a solid community behind you. How important has community and mentorship been in your DJ journey?

DJC: People pride themselves on being self-taught to their detriment. Newbies reach out to potential mentors, but if they do, the mentors often ignore them. But being afraid to put yourself out there never bears any fruit, which is why you must press on. 

DJWA: I agree with Calypso; the older generations of DJs can sometimes impede the creativity of up-and-comers due to an established way of DJing, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. However, these same individuals often gatekeep and can sometimes hinder the growth of the DJ community. Why not spread your knowledge to help everyone—we’re all still going to get booked.

DJE: This is true. I can relate. When I was starting, I reached out to several DJs for guidance, and they all ignored my requests. But it wasn’t until one DJ who spoke to me said, ‘Don’t drop your price, this messes it up for the whole community.’ I took heed to her messages to keep practicing and putting myself out there, and I’ve been on a roll ever since.

When it’s all said and done, what do you want your musical or DJ legacy to be?

DJWA: Hopefully, I won’t sound too cliché, but honestly, just follow your heart. You know exactly what you were placed on Earth to do; if not, you guide yourself to you. The need for manifestation and claiming what you want is also an aspect of my legacy.

DJC: That made me want to cry, Whipp. I want to leave a legacy of the notion that you can succeed while remaining true to yourself and being unapologetic about who you are and what you believe in. When applied authentically, people’s opinions about what you do won’t matter, and you will be happy because you’re secure within yourself.

DJE: I want my legacy to be ensuring that others know they don’t have to be limited by who they are and the space they take up. As a Black, gay, African man, I understand how it feels to be limited in self-expression, and no one should have to experience it. I hope the legacy I’m leaving behind is one of love and people who want to connect, engage, and get to know one another through my music and the vibe I create.  I do it for me and music lovers like me. I know my sound, and there’s a crowd that will always resonate with the magic. That’s the legacy.

This story appears in our inaugural Black Music Issue. A limited-edition print is available now — grab your copy while it lasts.

[Tap into the South’s style, sound, and scene as soon as it happens. Subscribe to Sitch and never miss a beat.]