DANIELLE THE DJ
What is your name?
My name is Danielle, most folks know me as Incognita.
What do you do?
I play with sound. I’m a DJ, pianist, accompanist, post-sound designer and producer. When I’m not experimenting with sound, I’m an Administrator for an Insurance company.
How do you reconcile the pressure to be "on" in nightlife with your natural instinct to keep to yourself?
I enjoy going out and connecting with others, but social anxiety often overtakes that enjoyment. I live so internally that I often forget how to exist externally. I have to remind myself that inspiration, growth and opportunities to heal live everywhere - especially in the places where we feel most discomfort. I challenge myself to reframe the anxiety as excitement for connection with others. That’s all that it is at the end of the day, and honouring that pushes me through.
You talk about wanting to play something people haven’t heard before. Do you ever feel the need to balance that with giving the crowd what they expect?
Sometimes, but not so much these days. One of my mentors often reminds me to “be the thermostat, not the thermometer”. You must remember that you've been invited in to set the tone and you're trusted to do that. That shift in mindset has made me a more passionate DJ, and I think that’s the type of magic crowds take to.
What’s a moment during a set where you completely lost control—whether in a good or bad way?
I bombed the biggest event I’d ever played. I was booked with a lineup of incredible Black Women making waves in the Canadian DJ scene. The event felt larger than life. It felt like more of a production than it did a dance. I was propped up onto a podium with cameras and bright lights. It was intimidating. I started strong, but when it felt like the performance became the main point, I crashed and burned. I can laugh about it now, but it showed me that I still have inner work to do around being seen. It also affirmed that I DJ to centre sound, not myself, and that's okay too.
What’s the biggest misconception people have about DJing that you wish you could correct?
DJing is more than pressing play—it’s our businesses, it’s where we find community, and it’s a path to confidence. DJing teaches us to say yes and no, to exercise creativity, to be equally humbled and inspired. It asserts our beliefs or helps us let go of them if they don’t serve us. The journey is deeply personal, often unseen, but it quietly transforms DJs into strong, courageous, disciplined, and benevolent people.
How does your background in classical piano and sound design change the way you build a DJ set?
Classical training made me rigid, but I’m working on letting that part of myself go. I used to map out every set, track by track, transition by transition—strategic, but stiff. Boredom eventually pushed me to start taking risks. Now, I throw my favorite tracks into a crate and trust my ear, instincts, and training to guide me live. It’s a different kind of challenge, but it’s much more fun that way!
You taught yourself production during the pandemic. How do you think your music would sound now if you had never gone through that period of isolation?
Isolation brings out an honest creativity in me—it’s eerie, melancholic, and messy. You can hear it in my production. Without it, I might have leaned into more upbeat, Afro/Caribbean-centred, rhythmic sounds - similar to what I DJ. Looking back at the pandemic, I’m grateful I had the time and space to create cathartic music that truly embodied who I am when no one else is looking.
You went from playing music written by others to creating your own. At what point did you stop feeling like a student and start feeling like an artist?
I think I’ll always feel like a student. There’s still so much to left to learn. Though, I started feeling like an artist when I noticed recurring patterns in my productions. I have a signature that I can pinpoint and others can too. It feels like my style of production is an auditory expression of bits of the soul. To me, sharing that inner sound is the very essence of being an artist.
