DJ BabyChino, 10, has a passion for hip-hop

Ri-yan Dolan’s life is best summed up through a quick look at his two closest friends. There’s Seth, his old trick-or-treating pal who used to accompany him to Adventuredome and still joins him for sleepovers. And there’s Machine Gun Kelly, the scribbled-in-tattoos rapper who, at 22 years old, is more than twice Ri-yan’s age, but always happy to see him on the road.

“He’s my best friend,” Ri-yan says of MGK. Other than Seth, he doesn’t keep friends his own age: “I know a lot of stuff they don’t. I’d rather stick to one friend.”

What exactly does he know?

For a 10-year-old, quite a bit. But for an up-and-coming DJ touring the country, trying to create a lucrative career, perhaps not enough.

He knows what a sweaty nightclub smells like, what praise from Talib Kweli, Dr. Dre and Kid Rock feels like, what a custom-designed chain around his neck looks like, and what an endorsement with luxury hat brand Flat Fitty tastes like.

He rocks events at the Super Bowl and NBA All-Star weekend, dresses like the fourth member of Run-DMC and signs autographs for giggling girls after local sets.

But he also asks his mom’s permission to use questionable hip-hop terms, stands on a box to reach his turntables, and has cheeks as chubby as his pockets, thanks to that endorsement and paychecks of as much as $1,000 a gig.

His name is Ri-yan, but you can call him DJ BabyChino, the littlest big thing to burst out of Las Vegas.

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On a recent Saturday afternoon, in a parking lot across the street from the Thomas & Mack Center, the smoky air smelled of ribs marinating in team spirit. UNLV can’t have a home game without tailgating, and these fans can’t tailgate without a DJ.

BabyChino looked just as comfortable behind the turntables as he did behind two go-go girls with more shake than all of Harlem.

The dancers stretched both their booty shorts and the term “family event” to 2 Chainz’s “I’m Different” when an unexpected voice briefly interrupted the party: “It’s BabyChino with Hot 97,” the fifth-grader squeaked into his mic. “Let’s go!”

“It’s almost a buzzkill” for adults to see a child DJ at certain events, says Maria Garza, BabyChino’s mother. “I’ve seen people stare at him for 15 to 20 minutes, like, ‘Am I really seeing that kid here?’u2009”

It didn’t seem to bother 44-year-old Gustavo Gamboa, who walked through folding chairs and barbecue grills in rhythm to Dr. Dre’s “California Love.” At one point, he raised an imaginary roof. Not the typical demeanor of a guy who lost his job to someone whose voice hasn’t dropped yet.

The crowd knows Gamboa, with the Rebel-Net Tailgate Crew that hosted the event, better as DJ G. Until a few weeks ago, he enjoyed the spot behind the turntables behind the go-go girls.

“He’s awesome,” Gamboa says of his pre-pubescent replacement. “He plays my style of music. ... You gotta pass it to the next generation. That’s why music here isn’t successful, because everyone doesn’t support each other.”

BabyChino knows that story well. Five years ago, he made an appearance on the “Rachael Ray Show” that brought more hostility than celebrity. Critics emerged in droves.

Savvy viewers noticed the then-5-year-old used Serato, a DJ software program that eliminates equipment and leapfrogs skill for sound. People who rely on it get stamped “laptop DJs,” because they plug and play. Something so easy, a kindergartner could do it.

Although at an age when most kids are learning to use scissors, BabyChino’s youth didn’t grant him immunity from harsh criticism. In fact, his age in and of itself reeked of the “g” word: gimmick.

BabyChino’s parents, Garza and Patrick Dolan, stuck with their son’s $150 DJ starter kit for a while, but the Rachael Ray backlash kept biting. YouTube videos mocking the youngster aired, taxing their son’s confidence and tempting redemption.

Unable to beat the turntablists, they would join them. They invested more than $4,000 in equipment (turntables, a mixer and speakers) and hired DJ tutors at $50 an hour. They “went all in,” as Ri-yan’s father and now BabyChino’s full-time manager puts it.

“What I love about my parents is that a lot of artists don’t get a push from their parents, and I do,” BabyChino says from the back seat of his family’s Chrysler minivan just before a recent gig. “My parents work for me.”

That’s precisely what worried Sherdon “Slip” Aquino about taking him on as a student. He and his wife, Christine “KrisCut” Aquino, local DJ’s, were charged with a task of Mr. Miyagi proportions: to supplement a kid with the fundamentals and history of turntabling.

“I wanted to see if he was force-fed this or if he really wanted to do it,” Slip says. “I wanted to know, ‘Is this what you wanna do or do you just wanna play video games right now?’u2009”

The veteran quizzed his potential pupil until the two became acquainted. He learned his student first heard hip-hop music at age 2, while cruising the Strip with his parents when they moved to Las Vegas from Texas. Dad drove, Mom rode shotgun, and BabyChino rocked the car seat.

He discovered his DJ name is a nod to his parents’ ethnic backgrounds. Dolan is half Korean-American, Garza is Mexican-American. “Chino” is Spanish slang for Asian.

Finally, he found out his student’s first foray into hip-hop came courtesy of breakdancing. BabyChino entered competitions locally, but abandoned it after becoming enamored with the DJ “because he controls everything.”

That sealed the deal. Slip and KrisCut agreed to teach him one to two times a week.

DJ school came in addition to regular home schooling and a mandated one-hour teacher visit each week. History was and remains BabyChino’s favorite subject: “Because I like to learn about old people and how they changed the world.”

Perfect, since his time with Slip and KrisCut would teach him about old school figures and how they changed music. Grand Wizzard Theodore, for instance, invented scratching, a fundamental DJ skill that BabyChino would eventually pick up, but not before learning its roots.

Before he could hit the wax, he had to wax on and wax off.

After watching the DVD tutorial “Shortee’s DJ 101” and studying books such as “On the Record: The Scratch DJ Academy Guide,” he graduated to turntables. Both his teachers agreed BabyChino had a good ear for music. He learned to scratch, beat juggle and blend, techniques audiences recognize by sound, not by name.

“We were trying to get him to be a talented DJ, to get respect,” KrisCut says. “We didn’t want people to say, ‘Oh, he’s a kid; it’s a gimmick.’u2009”

They consider their mission accomplished. So do BabyChino and his parents, who are fresh off NBA All-Star weekend in Houston and the MAGIC convention locally and heading for the Austin, Texas-based music and film festival, South By Southwest.

“Kid acts are cute and great when they’re 5, 6, 7, 8, 9 years old,” Dolan says. “But after the cuteness factor is over, the talent has to come out. You have to keep building that brand.”

While his son honed his DJ skills, Dolan blossomed as a promoter. After a recent set at a local high school, he passed out promotional pictures of BabyChino and reminded kids to tweet and Instagram him. He talks about getting “looks” from Adidas and Red Bull, which he hopes to parlay into contracts.

Dolan, who bankrolled his son’s early efforts with a cashed out 401(k) from Motorola, recognizes how it can all appear to outside parties, but insists he’s just a father helping his son realize a dream. Not a stage parent exploiting his kid.

“It’s just like it would be for a 10-year-old singer, rapper or athlete,” he says. “We’re just doing something no other kid has done at 10 years old, so I understand it will be scrutinized, but he’s a great DJ and a great son.”

Despite the sexy go-go dancers, partying and other adult behavior at some of his gigs, Dolan maintains that he realizes his son’s tender age and lets him be that age.

BabyChino spins only clean music. When he’s just being Ri-yan at his three-bedroom home in the southwest part of town, he enjoys World Wrestling Entertainment, has an affinity for the Miami Heat — especially when playing NBA 2K13 on his Xbox 360 — and saves every Sunday for the basketball court with his dad.

And, just when it seems he might know too much at his impressionable age, a flash of innocence makes a refreshing cameo. When talking about an upcoming gig, and the brand of music the crowd will want, he pauses and looks at his mom.

“Can I say it, Mom?”

“Say what?”

“You know,” he says, whispering the next word, “ratchet.”

It’s a hip-hop term for nasty, but that’s not important. The fact he sheepishly asked his mom to use it proves, at least for this moment, the chubby cheeks and high voice are perfectly placed.

Contact Xazmin Garza at xgarza@reviewjournal.com or 702-383-0477. Follow her on Twitter @startswithanx.