Few of clubland's jet-hopping DJs straddle cultural milieus quite like Steve Aoki. Spinning under the name Kid Millionaire, a wry nod to his father's Benihana fortune, Aoki, 28, has appeared alongside P. Diddy in a Diet Pepsi ad and cohosted parties at Manhattan's swanky Marquee. Yet that's also Aoki holding court at L.A.'s CineSpace, where the bottle of choice is Rolling Rock-not Cristal-and the guests of honor are likely to be the latest band of scruffy post-punkers to sign to his Dim Mak record label, home of the U.S. debuts for Bloc Party and the Kills. We caught up with model Devon's older brother for a night on the town in South Beach.

4:30 p.m.
Aoki travels light-there's little in his hotel room beyond his laptop and
vinyl. His business plan is also simple: "Regardless of whether a band sounds like country, rap, or rock, or how well it might sell, if it moves me, I'll sign it." A similar impulse took Aoki off the professorial career track. "I had my acceptance letter to NYU grad school in one hand and the Kills demos in the other," he recalls. "I chose the Dim Mak route; I took the blue pill."

5:45 p.m.
"I wish I had some more shoes to give love to," Aoki says, as Complex's photographer snaps away. His room is filled with pals in Miami for the Winter Music Conference's (WMC) all-night dance parties, including fellow DJs Junior Sanchez and Josh Madden (big brother to the Good Charlotte twins), VHS or Beta's Craig Pfunder, and a gaggle of scenester women.

5:58 p.m.  
If you find yourself at the Cardozo Hotel, do not cram nine people into its tiny elevator. The door slides shut, buttons are pressed, and then...nothing. We're trapped. Aoki is playful at first: "Should I MacGyver us out of here?" he offers, poking at a ceiling panel. Madden quips: "I've been in clubs packed tighter than this." "Exactly," says Sanchez. "Now who's got the E?" But after a few sweaty minutes, the girls' makeup is running, and the night is looking decidedly less fabulous. Suddenly, the elevator's speaker pipes in a recording of the room-service menu. "Hey, let's order champagne!" jokes Pfunder.

6:07 p.m.
An elevator rescue later, the streets outside are gridlocked, making a cab ride impossible. We're hoofing to Aoki's in-store set at the Miss Sixty boutique, weaving through spring breakers and WMC attendees who are blending in to one drunken mass. But Kid Millionaire walks along unfazed, transferring funds between Dim Mak bank accounts on his Blackberry.

12:20 a.m.
At the MisShapes shindig, the Shore Club's well-heeled regulars are clustered away from the disheveled hipsters. Is this a John Hughes film come to life? Can misfits and mooks ever get down together? Aoki's response is to spin a bar mitzvah set of '80s hits, and sure enough, everyone loves Bananarama.

1:14 a.m.
"John Mellencamp's ‘Jack and Diane' has a great hip-hop beat," insists Aoki, unwinding triumphantly with a bottle of vodka. "Yeah, I screwed up some of my segues, but if you can get people dancing, who cares if other DJs think you're cool or not?" Take that, haters.