If you meet Tommy once, you won’t forget him. Sure, everyone mentions his haircut, a one-of-kind skullet, but there’s so much more than that. He’s the kind of guy that draws a crowd, the kind that people can’t help but gravitate towards because of his easy-going character—all smiles, all laughter, all the sense that there’s nothing to worry about in the world. I’ll always remember attending a mutual friend’s wedding. After the nuptials had taken place and it was time for karaoke, Tommy took the mic and with a big grin, began singing. It didn’t take long for the whole crowd to sing along, and with that, the venue became his stage. Tommy brings joy. It’s no surprise then that he’s a DJ because the best DJs are those who imbue their shows with a spirit of elation that can’t help but make you dance along with happiness. Through the hours and drinks we’ve shared, I liked to think that I had a pretty good read on Tommy. He was the happy-go-lucky type. The classroom comedian type. But no one is ever so simple. There’s more to most people than what meets the eye.
Tommy was born in Saigon and calls the Bình Thạnh district his home. From an early age, he had to deal with struggle. He didn’t come from a family with a lot of money which brought about a myriad of problems but at its core, there was always a prevailing sense of insecurity in the household. If that wasn’t enough, Tommy told me that when he was a kid, he had a lot of trouble focusing and remembering things. He was something of a day dreamer, always staring out the window at school, or playing with whatever pencil, pen, or ruler lay around. Tommy’s day dreams, however, were perhaps never as great as when he was at Church. Coming from a Christian family, Tommy attended mass regularly and compared to school, he found something magical about being at Church. He loved the choir especially—the ethereal echo of their singing reverberated in his soul and proved to be his first real experience with the power of music.
Your youth is one of the most formative periods of your life. The circumstances of your environment while you’re an adolescent have an immense, rippling effect on your future. As such, how a child reacts to their surroundings is crucial. Some, naturally, accept the hand that they were dealt. Others, like Tommy, use their imagination to escape. Even with his family’s financial difficulties and trouble learning at school, Tommy always seemed to be able to appreciate the good times. Even as a kid, he liked to take things slow, especially walks to school. They should’ve taken a quick ten minutes but he always paused and looked around at everything happening around him: spotting something new each day, turning his head to a sound he’d never heard before. He told me he felt a little like Alice on those walks and Saigon was his Wonderland.
Besides Tommy’s ability to take things at his own pace, art also became another means of escape. He started with dancing and acting. He recalled how naturally these came to him, how when he was in middle school and talking to his friends about their future aspirations, everyone always talked about the classic doctor, lawyer, or businessman route, but Tommy felt different. He wanted to, “spread his soul and energy to others,” and Tommy would, but first there would be more tragedy.
When Tommy’s parents got divorced, his world flipped upside down. A lack of financial stability is one thing. Difficulty learning at school another. However, when your parents split, all of a sudden no problem that you’ve dealt with up until then seems to be able to compare with the magnitude of that painful separation. Tommy moved in with his mother. Stuffed into a small home with other family members, he didn’t feel like he had any room to breathe. In such moments, he found just how liberating art could be. He started with acting. He loved it because there was an innate freedom in the pursuit. You’re stepping into a role, donning a character’s skin and in that process allowing yourself to forget all the trials and tribulations plaguing your actual life. Moreover, acting teaches you how to compartmentalise your feelings. You can’t let the outside world affect you because there is no outside world. There is only the here and now and the camera or audience looking at you, nothing else exists. As part of his work, Tommy acted on a YouTube singing channel while also doing promotional videos for sitcoms. These experiences allowed him to take a step away from the harsh reality of home life and into worlds that were sillier, more carefree, but perhaps most importantly, happier.
Eventually, Tommy fell out of love with acting. Being as free-spirited as he is, he didn’t like how authoritative some directors could be on sets. It was during this time that Tommy was heavily into the TV show, So You Think You Can Dance? While acting freed him in its own way, there were still constraints that one had to abide by during a shoot. Dancing, on the other hand, felt much more open. It was self-expression of another, perhaps even purer form: one without a script to recite, one where you don’t have a role to play but one in which you can express yourself through movement of any kind. And so Tommy started dancing. There was a contemporary dance club at school which he joined and for three years, Tommy didn’t stop dancing. His love for the art led him to competitions with dance clubs from other schools, and in this way he pushed the limits of what he thought was capable through movement. And just like that, Tommy's middle school years passed. Through talking to Tommy for this profile, something I came to realise was that he was more determined and ambitious than I’d ever thought. Even with the difficulties he grew up dealing with, he always tried to find a way out. He rarely accepted his situation but put the onus on himself to steer his ship in the direction he wanted.
When he was in high school, Tommy started working at a coffee shop. It was during this period he met a group of guys who were starting a DJ collective called The Junkie’s Bass. One day, Tommy was asked whether he wanted to try it out. He didn’t have a clue what DJing was but was told he could make money if he got good. He jumped at the chance, admitting that at the start, he was only DJing because of this promise. It was only after a few months that he really got into DJing itself and began to consider it as something more than just a way to earn a few extra bucks. Just like acting and dancing had ignited Tommy’s passion for art, DJing did the same. Then came his first gig at Piu Piu. He was sixteen at the time and had to ride his bicycle to the venue. First time nerves resulted in a few too many drinks to loosen up. He admits he didn’t play his best but at the end of his set, Bobby D—one of Piu Piu’s cofounders—told him not to worry and handed him an extra two million Dong to take home. Tommy had never had money like that for himself and in that way, the promise that had been made to him at the beginning of his DJ career was fulfilled. The first thing he did with that money was buy a new pair of sneakers and get some fried chicken at Lotteria. It’d been a dream of his since he was a kid to have a taste of their fried chicken but he’d never had the chance until then. With that first bite it was as if he’d already made it.
Tommy continued playing at Piu Piu for about a year. Eventually it got to a point where he was there four nights a week. Tommy would leave Piu Piu after midnight, cycle home, get what sleep he could, and then wake up in the morning for school the next day. It took a toll. When he’d show up at school he’d usually get whatever sleep he missed out on during lessons, and though his grades were suffering, at least he had a pocket full of cash. But in tenth grade, it all came to a head. By then Tommy knew he’d found what he wanted to do with his life. He loved DJing, he loved playing music and watching people smile, dance, and let loose. If he’d already found what he wanted to do for the rest of his life, what was the point of staying at school? After all, it wasn't like he was putting in much effort. He made his choice. In tenth grade, Tommy left school and decided to go all-in on DJing.
In the following year, Tommy DJ’d around the city. You could hear him at clubs like Piu Piu and Arcan, but also at more laidback spots like Indika. It was a period spent building his chops. At the time he was playing what he described as bass-heavy music, partially because of the fact that there was an event he wanted to be a part of run by a collective called Bass Republic. Pioneers in the underground music scene, Bass Republic represented Saigon’s emerging DJ subculture, and to the young Tommy, nothing seemed more enticing. Despite his desire to play at a Bass Republic event, the military called up first.
Mandatory military service took Tommy to Tây Ninh. He spent several months in something of a bootcamp before returning to Saigon to live in the Gò Vấp district. While the bootcamp was grueling, once he was in Gò Vấp, things toned down. All in all, Tommy says it was a good experience. For one, the time spent in Tây Ninh proved to him that he could survive without a phone and the numerous other tools one takes for granted in their day-to-day lives. Naturally, no phones and other such tools meant that you had to learn other ways to pass the time, and this is why Tommy also credits this period with teaching him how to open up to others more. His team became a band of brothers, with stories and secrets shared that likely wouldn’t have been told in the outside world. Finally, military service also gave Tommy time to think and learn more about himself. Questions about his future regularly popped up in his mind and the answer was always the same: keep DJing.
Tommy’s service ended around Covid. Despite the circumstances, he said it wasn't a completely bad time because the pandemic gave him the space to acclimatise back to the real world after serving. While he got back into DJing, he admits that he spent more time actually listening to music than practicing with his decks. It was a period of expanding his mind to the different varieties and genres in the electronic music scene, and he credits these explorations with his discovery of techno in all its forms, as well as more experimental sounds. Once restrictions were lifted, this also meant going out and doing a lot of groundwork by listening to what other DJs in the city were playing. It was around then he also got in touch with a member from the Nhạc Gãy collective who was looking for a collaborator on one of their album’s tracks. Tommy hopped on. Overall, Tommy was having fun playing around with music but the only issue was, he wasn't making much money. Compared to when he was in high school and he didn’t really have to worry about expenses like rent and groceries, now that Tommy was an adult, there were more costs to consider. It wasn’t as simple as pocketing two million VND and taking himself out for some Lotteria—he was an adult with responsibilities now and simply put, a DJ’s wages weren’t reliable. While he played at Arcan semi-regularly, this period was more about going out and getting his pulse on Saigon’s dance music scene. On one such evening he went to The Village Project where he spent an evening listening and dancing to house music.
With the discovery of techno, house, and a variety of other experimental sounds and genres, Tommy felt like he’d begun to understand more of electronic music. However, just like when he was away in the military, questions kept popping up. Of those, one was most pressing: what separated him from other DJs? Now that he’d spent a good deal of time going out and listening to people that shared in his passion and love, he knew that if he was going to be successful, he needed to differentiate himself. To Tommy, this meant creating his own sound, one that people could recognise as soon as they heard it and one that would draw people to events for the purpose of hearing him play. When I asked him how he’d actually describe this sound, he explained it in a way that only he could. “It’s like the colour purple,” he said, “kind of rich and warm inside.” In more specific terms, when he designs a set he ensures there’s a nice blend of light melodies and punchy bass but never going too far that the music ends up sounding “heavy”. Just as most art has a tendency to reflect the artist, Tommy’s sets can be seen as an image of the man himself: fun, groovy, and always leaving you with a smile. With that, however, we have to remember that no one is ever so simple. There’s always more than meets the eye.
Through talking to Tommy, I was surprised to find that behind the laughs and jokes, there’s an introspection about him. He isn’t all fun and games, and this showed itself in two ways. The first was when he started producing his own music. Most notably were two tracks, Balloon Prices and Woe. He told me Balloon Prices was about how people would spend weeks saving their salary only to blow it all on one evening huffing balloons—a high which is over in the blink of an eye. Then there’s Woe. He got the inspiration for this track when he was watching the news and heard the story of stateless Vietnamese people living on the rivers and lakes of Cambodia. It struck a chord, which is why when he eventually made it over to the country himself, he made it a point to visit some of them to witness the harsh reality under which they were living. The backstories of these songs point to a deeper, more thoughtful side of Tommy. One that’s concerned with the tragic, cruel nature of the world and the fact that even electronic songs don’t have to be about partying. Then there’s what happened when Tommy eventually went on tour.
While Tommy had been steadily making a name for himself, around the October of 2024, things came to a halt. Out of nowhere gigs dried up and in desperate need for money, Tommy found work at a bakery making croissants and Vietnamese breads. He admits it was a dark period but it came with a silver lining. In the hands-on, meditative process of working with the dough, Tommy learned how to better control his emotions. In the following year, things looked like they were coming together. It started with a show at Bông Kia Sên. Though nervous, Tommy was given the advice to be himself by the founder of Saigon Exotic, Roi. That vote of confidence helped and needless to say, when Tommy played the crowd went wild. After that followed gigs in Bangkok with the Bangkok Community Radio Show and Durian Radio. Then another in Hội An, this time for an event with Tung from Neo-. 2025 was turning out to be one of the best years in Tommy’s life, and all of this culminated in a ten-day tour spanning Vietnam. Though everything was going well, Tommy still told me that when he left for this tour, he was going with the intention of finding himself. The reality was, after doing so many shows, he understood something about DJing that he never had before: it can be lonely. While DJing puts you in the position to be the life of the party, Tommy also noticed a separation between the DJ and the audience. For one you’re often inside or behind a booth rather than on the dancefloor with other people. Then sometimes you get finished playing a show and with that, the audience leaves and you’re left packing your things in a room that’s turned unusually, eerily quiet. This loneliness followed him on his tour. It was a weird dichotomy. Tommy was succeeding but he couldn’t shake this sense of alienation. Finally, after a gig in Hội An, he cracked. Taking a bottle of gin with him to the beach, he sat on the shore. More questions. Sitting under the moonlit sky, Tommy had never felt more alone. Maybe he’d always been alone? Perhaps he always would be. And yet when he continued thinking about it—the waves crashing at his feet—he realised countless people had helped him along the way. Tommy decided he needed to give back, to help aspiring DJs in the same way he’d been supported throughout his career.
Today, Tommy runs DJ classes at this home studio in Phú Nhuận. It’s his way of giving back and hopefully igniting a similar love for the art that he got thanks to The Junkie’s Bass crew. As for his DJing career, it’s only kept growing. He’s got an EP planned for release in the summer that takes inspiration from his countless trips to Tây Ninh and in particular, the Bà Đen mountain. Besides that, he’s played at numerous venues throughout Vietnam, and he’s even gone abroad to perform for international audiences. In this lies another surprising aspect of Tommy. While his talent as a DJ is becoming evermore recognised, the opportunities he’s had to play abroad have come in part due to his unwavering perseverance. When I asked how he got these gigs in the first place, he told me he’s been reaching out to venues across Asia for years. While some never replied, that never deterred the ever-determined Tommy whose persistence eventually paid off. This is why he’s played in Cambodia, Thailand, and Indonesia, and it’s also why he continues to reach out to clubs in Taiwan and Mongolia for future shows. All of this ties into his goal of exporting Vietnamese music across the globe—for Tommy, the world is not only his oyster, it’s also his dancefloor.
Hearing Tommy’s story, I was struck by just how far he’d come. Of course he’s had help along the journey, but still, there is something to the fact that Tommy’s paved his own path and done things his way. With all this, when I asked what his goals were, his answer was another surprise. While he wants to continue DJing and touring, more so than anything, he wants to make music for the Church. Ultimately then, it all comes full-circle. Tommy’s a DJ but more than that, he’s a dreamer, and those day dreams he had when he was listening to the choir sing at Church never left him through the years. He’d kept the heavenly music close in his heart, kept the ethereal singing rooted in his soul and perhaps this is why Tommy’s always got a smile on his face. He’s smiling because he knows he’s never been alone.
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