Nero may have jammed out on a fiddle while Rome burned to the ground, but on nearby Greece — experiencing its own meltdown of sorts — he’d happily be spinning electronic dance music.

That’s certainly true on Mykonos, anyway, at its thronged, open-air Cavo Paradiso, one of the small island’s two biggest and bitterly rivalrous nightclubs (the other being Paradise Club). The idyllic isle competes only with Ibiza for southern Europe’s insular party capital.

It’s 3 a.m. and globetrotting DJ Loco Dice — a hip-hoppy, Tunisian-blooded German national — just rolled into the office: Cavo’s turntable booth.

Amid the aural and visceral seismic bass-thumping insanity he’s begun blasting the cosmos with erupting fire cannons, a dense cloudscape of machine-pumped smoke, strobing spotlights, speakers and amps bigger than smartcars and a hopping, crazed capacity crowd of thousands.

Really the only place to take a quick breather is inside the bathroom complex where a sweet little attendant lady hands you towelettes to wipe the cricks of sweat streaming down your face (it’s hot as balls, especially in late July, peak party season). Even in here, it’s still a rager: kids are throwing them ‘bows, drinking, smoking, hooking up. Not sure why they even bothered dividing it up into “men’s” and “women’s” sides, since — and you may want to cover your ears, North Carolinians — the bathroom entrances are door-less, offering plenty of opportunity to mingle like back in the good old co-ed college dorm loo days.

Back outside, this entire orgiastic oasis that is Cavo’s dance space — carved into a cliff atop a south coast hillside that overlooks the Aegean Sea’s crashing waves below — has one mission. To host pure, unadulterated, beat-driven bacchanalia around its large, illuminated central pool. And it does a damn good job; the frenzied pretty-people party is only contained from spilling over the bluffs by a few plants and a rickety beach fence.

If you’re any sort of jet-setting rave kid, this over-two-decades-old superclub, renovated in 2011, is hallowed ground: everyone from David Guetta to Tiesto to Paul Oakenfold has spun here. In 2016, they’ve locked down Alesso, Axwell, Benny Benassi, Bob Sinclar, Cedric Gervais, Fedde Le Grand, Ingrosso, Marco Carola, Martin Solveig, Nicky Romero, Paul Van Dyk, Richie Hawtin, Robin Schulz, Ruby Rose, Skrillex, Solomun, Steve Aoki, Sven Väth and Tujamo, just to name a few.

Fatboy Slim, who only played there recently, said Cavo was “on his bucket list” (see below).

But the irony of a Grecian setting for letting the good times roll is palpable.

Not sure if you’ve heard, but Greece has been in a bit of a rut lately.

The country, if we’re being honest, kind of peaked in high school — class of some-odd B.C. — as the birthplace of geometry, mythology, theater, democracy, philosophy, the Olympiad, metaphysics and the original not-that-there’s-anything-wrong-with-that approach to homoeroticism.

Now it’s better known for John Stamos-peddled yogurt, the Nazi-ish Golden Dawn party and massive, crippling debt. (Are all three related?)

Which isn’t to say Mykonos, a vacationers’ paradise, is somehow immune — vulture capitalists from Germany and elsewhere have been very busy picking at the bones of its sickly businesses.

It’s just that — despite the financial woes enveloping the nation’s mesimeri-happy mainland — its devil-may-care Cycladean islanders couldn’t care less.

Screw it: Mykonites just want to dance. It helps that they have one of the sexiest venues on the planet to do so (Cavo just reopened for the season in May; it stays open through mid-September).

At around sunrise, I finally find a taxi vanpool to return to my hotel (light-weight party pooper that I am, Cavo still has a few more hours of life left). I realize I haven’t seen much of the island in the daylight. The whole, 33-square-mile island is a stunning platter of rolling hills — which supposedly can be as green as marouli in the winter; but now it’s clearly brown town — clustered with diminutive, postcard-perfect bone-white buildings flourished perfectly with azure trim. Many are capped with blue, sometimes red observatory-like domes.

Passing by windmills, outhouse-sized churches and monasteries cowlicked with Christian crosses (and the not-so-devout Las Vegas strip club), the topography of Mykonos seems so beautifully weird and alien and seemingly oblivious to the country’s problems, especially in my fog of sleep deprivation.

It also seems like my van isn’t moving much. When these raver hordes wash up on shore, Mykonos’ anorexic, moped-mobbed, snaking and all-around congested streets can make getting from point A to B seem like an eternity.

But that’s all well and good when you can just pass out in the passenger seat of a cab and sleep the entire day away, only to rinse-repeat at the club come next nightfall.

Blade runner

Watch the overworked summer sun disappear into the Aegean Sea behind the noble sails of the windmills in Mykonos town. Quixotic to the max.

Phallus in wonderland

Next door, Delos island (a quick boat ride away, accessible only from Mykonos town), is a UNESCO World Heritage site whose human civilization dates back to 500 B.C.

Mythical birthplace of Apollo and Artemis, it’s also home to Stoivadeion, a temple for Dionysus (Nietzsche’s favorite party God who went plenty hard) guarded by stone pillars, two of note supporting giant headless penises. From a Greek antiquity perspective, this island is the most important spot outside of Athens.

Shore things up

Enjoy all sorts of sea sports at Elia Beach, one of the best in Europe. The sands here are quieter than most on the island, relatively development-free and paired best with a mojito.

Tasos Taverna — The island’s cat population seems more than a little infatuated with this Paranga Beach eatery (the first business to open there) and I trust fickle felines most of all when it comes to food. Must be the insane selection of locally sourced fresh seafood that tickles their whiskers.

La Rosticceria — All spanakopita’d out? Get your authentic Italian pasta fix at this restaurant run by expat paisans who settled in Mykonos decades ago.

Roca Cookery — Sitched at the old port in Mykonos Town (aka, Chora), you can fill your eyes with panoramic views of all the yachts and rich people who love them and your gut with even richer Mediterranean cuisine.

If you’re familiar with the old 8-bit video game “Elevator Action,” you’ll appreciate the layout of the hyper-elegant Myconian Avaton Resort. Ascending a rocky hillside on Elia Beach, its villas and rooms are connected by a labyrinth of ramping hallways and discontiguous elevator shafts. (It’s even more thrilling to negotiate after drinking at the resort’s DJ-equipped poolside bar.) Said pool area is usually populated during the day with exceptionally sexy people — guests and staffers, alike — and at night the pool is lit up like a liquid constellation. If there’s a big-name DJ in town (and when isn’t there?), this is where he’ll be shacking up. From $245

For a homier, less sceney, more scenery-focused stay, there’s the 14-suite Marina View Studios & Apartments complex near the central square of Chora. Nesting on a coveted-for-its-views hill above the old port, and near all sorts of fun, narrow shopping alleys, each of Marina’s spacious units sport a kitchen and, best of all, American mattresses (much comfier than the home grown, cheaper options notoriously served up in Greece — USA, USA, USA!). Easily the best views in town. From $135