Protecting the Vibe: DJ Lil Meow Meow and the Politics of the Dance Floor
Profile by Asheville Guide. Photography by Anthony Bellemare.
In Asheville’s crowded creative ecosystem, where every other person is a part-time artisan and a full-time dreamer, DJ Lil Meow Meow is doing something radical: she’s serious about fun. Not just the fleeting, forgettable fun of a Spotify playlist on shuffle, but the kind of curated joy that transforms a crowd into a community. Her sets are not just music; they are a vibe, and that vibe is protected.
There’s a story here, not just about Lil Meow Meow herself, but about the ways we understand labor and identity in a creative economy that rewards visibility more than craft. Asheville has a reputation as a music city—before and after COVID—but reputations alone don’t pay rent. Yet, as Lil Meow Meow has shown, DJing is more than a hobby or a side hustle. It’s a career. And her journey from someone who loved music to someone who lives it is a roadmap for how culture-makers thrive in cities like Asheville.
“I feel really fortunate that I started doing this thing that I love, and now it gets to be a real job for me,” she says, with a humility that is both generous and strategic. Her rise coincides with a shift in how people approach DJing. It’s no longer an exclusive club guarded by the high costs of vinyl and turntables. Controllers have made it easier—and cheaper—to start spinning. For Lil Meow Meow, that’s a good thing. “Part of what we’re seeing is that people can access it now. That democratization of DJing has brought so many different people into the scene.”
But democratization is never just about access. It’s also about redefining legitimacy. Who gets to be a "real DJ"? It’s a question that comes up often, both inside and outside the scene. For Lil Meow Meow, it’s not about gatekeeping. “I think that conversation is melting away,” she says. “There are so many ways to validate the work someone does.”
Still, she’s clear that DJing isn’t just about playing music; it’s about telling a story. And protecting the vibe of that story matters. She’s heard it all before: Why won’t the DJ take requests? Why can’t they just play what we want? But for Lil Meow Meow, it’s not about resisting the audience; it’s about respecting the craft. “Taking requests can throw off your internal understanding of the narrative of the night,” she explains. “Sometimes people don’t even know what they want. They’ll ask for a song you’ve already played or something completely out of sync with the vibe.”
This tension between art and service becomes even more pronounced at weddings, where DJs are often expected to cater to the whims of the bride and groom. Lil Meow Meow takes these gigs selectively, but even then, compatibility is key. “I’ve learned to ask people if they’ve seen me perform before. If they haven’t, I tell them to come check out one of my sets. That way, they can see if it’s a fit. And if it’s not? How great that we figured that out ahead of time.”
Lil Meow Meow’s approach to DJing is a microcosm of a larger cultural shift. Millennials and Gen Zers are redefining what it means to pursue creative work in an economy that often treats art as disposable. Her success is a reminder that joy—real, intentional joy—is work. And like any work worth doing, it requires boundaries.
When asked if the democratization of DJing changes what it means to be a DJ, she doesn’t flinch. “I think it does both. It democratizes it, and it changes it. But I think the change is good. It’s about making space for more people to tell their stories. And in the end, isn’t that the point?”
Lil Meow Meow isn’t just spinning records; she’s spinning a vision of what it means to create in community. And whether the crowd knows it or not, that vision is what keeps them coming back. After all, in the world of DJs, protecting the vibe isn’t just a preference—it’s a principle.
