Music & Mixes
Latest DJ sets, remixes, and music productions
Chicago Boss
"Chicago Boss" is the moment DJ Big Dill hands the mic to the coldest closer in the Windy City and lets her tear the entire real estate market — and your ego — apart over peak-time Chicago progressive house that hits like a commission check on a seven-figure flip. This isn't a flex track. A flex is when you talk about what you have. This is a BOSS track. This is when you talk about what you OWN.
Go Fast, Brake Hard
Everyone who's ever driven through a city at night and felt more free than they feel during the day — this is your track. Everyone who's ever said "one more mile" knowing it was never about the mile — this is your song. Everyone who's ever used the word "therapy" to describe what happens between the steering wheel and the sunrise — you already know.
Sax In Chicago
The saxophone doesn't just play in Chicago — it breathes here. DJ Big Dill takes you on a late-night cruise through the city's smoky jazz roots and neon-soaked streets, blending silky sax melodies with deep Chicago house rhythms, lush funk basslines, and soulful grooves that hit different after midnight.
Take Me Back to the Neon Lights
Close your eyes. It's 1985 and 2026 at the same time. Gated reverb snares echo off mirrored walls. Analog synths pulse with a warmth that digital will never touch. An arpeggiated synth line climbs like neon crawling up the side of a building. And a voice — soft, aching, certain — cuts through it all: take me back, take me back to the neon lights.
It's Just A Game
There's a version of this person in every room on every Friday night in every city. She walks in and the temperature shifts. Not because she's trying — because she's already decided how this ends before it starts. She'll smile at you from across the bar. She'll lean in close enough that you forget your own name. She'll laugh at exactly the right moment. And by the time you're reaching for your phone to save her number, she's already talking to someone else. Not because she likes them more. Because the game just moved.
What's The Big Dill
This one isn't pretty. It isn't polished. It isn't the Chicago on the postcard or the tourism commercial or the skyline photo your cousin posted from Navy Pier. This is the Chicago that doesn't get the filter. The one with the blue-and-red flash that's gone in a blink. The corner store saints. The wind that feels quick. The dogs that bark back when the night gets loud. The chaos that lives on the same block as the music and somehow — somehow — the music wins every single time.
32 Degrees of Swagger
There's cool. There's ice cold. And then there's a green pickle in oversized sunglasses playing saxophone over a hip-hop house beat while an army of gherkins loses their minds in the front row. That's thirty-two degrees. That's a different temperature entirely.
Dancing In Chicago
The daytime Chicago is architecture and commerce and commuters and concrete. But the nighttime Chicago — the one that starts when the streetlights paint the puddles gold and the Red Line hums a different frequency and someone texts "meet me downtown" and you're already moving before you finish reading it — that Chicago is a feeling you can't explain to anyone who hasn't been inside it.
All Night Long
There's a room in the South Loop. Back of the building. Back stairs. Red sign. No marquee. No Instagram location tag. You either know about it or you don't. And if you know about it, you know that what happens inside is the thing Chicago does better than any city on earth — put everyone in the same room and let the music erase the borders.
