Agentic Records Presents - World of Dreams
Olam (עוֹלָם): Means "world," "universe," or "eternity."
Chalom (חֲלוֹם): Means "dream."

Olam Chalom

Echo Effect

The Original that inspired this: https://soundcloud.com/deltaoctagon/delta-rising :)

Rise of Delta

Rise of Delta - Delta Octagon X Agentic Records

Agentic Records Presents - ShamaniX

The Shaman Returns

The Shaman Returns

ShamaniX

Utopia

Babylon (Original Mix)

Agentic Records presents - Lotus Hypnosis
Artist: AgentiX

Lotus Hypnosis

Lotus Hypnosis (Original Mix)

BIOMASS

Agentic Records is proud to bring you - Psychopathy

Psychopathy

In the forgotten ruins of a clockmaker’s workshop, where cogs turned with no master and hourglasses flowed in reverse, a sound began to form. It started as a simple pulse - soft, hypnotic - but with each repetition, it fed back into itself, growing more intricate, more impossible

Wanderers who stumbled upon the melody found their footsteps syncing to the rhythm, their thoughts looping in perfect polyrhythm. Birds overhead flapped in 7/8 time. The ocean tides started oscillating to a kick drum only Neptune could hear. Somewhere in the distance, a choir of frogs sang in perfect harmonic recursion

Then, as the final drop approached, the entire world seemed to fold into itself - cascading through infinite echoes, spiraling into pure sonic equilibrium. Timekeepers across history stopped, nodded in approval, and let the beat ride forever

Recursive Stability

Hilbert Space

Deep in the forgotten forests where techno goblins throw raves under bio-luminescent toadstools, a lone sorceress of sound weaves her most forbidden spell. With a single flick of her wrist, the baseline rises like a dragon from the depths - smoky, serpentine, and slightly vengeful. The drop hits harder than a kingdom-wide sleeping curse, rattling the bones of enchanted ravers and waking up eldritch beings that should not be woken up.

Some say this track was found inside a haunted vinyl pressed in the 13th century. Others whisper that it was forged in the depths of a cursed Ableton session, where every synth was possessed by a mischievous demon. Either way, one thing is clear: Maleficent’s Bass Hex isn’t just music - it’s a dark spell, disguised as a banger.

Maleficent

Maleficent (Dantra Music Therapy - AgentiX Remix)

Late one Tuesday night in a forgotten quadrant of the cerebral cortex, a miniature rave erupted inside the skull of a narcoleptic philosopher. The air crackled with electrochemical whispers as dopamine rode in on a unicycle, juggling serotonin and existential dread. Somewhere near the hippocampus, a tiny jazz band of bioluminescent shrimp played Miles Davis covers backwards while a crowd of mitochondria moshed politely under strobe lights made of pure memory.

At the center of it all stood Synapse Prime - wearing a velour bathrobe and wielding a neural transmitter like a disco wand. Each beat of the track fired through your neurons like a squirrel shot from a confetti cannon, bouncing off dendrites, lighting up synaptic vesicles, and making your frontal lobe consider a career in interpretive dance.

As the drop hit, a spontaneous wormhole opened in the corpus callosum, and out stepped Kevin - the aforementioned octopus bartender - armed with a double espresso martini and a very long monologue about jazz fusion. Somewhere in the distance, a chorus of glial cells harmonized the secrets of the universe, only to be drowned out by the bassline and a rogue dolphin on turntables.

This isn’t just music. It’s a full-brain seizure of groove.
Plug in. Spasm. Transcend. 🧠⚡🕺

Synapses (Original Mix)

Original: https://soundcloud.com/earphonic/lights-out-2

At precisely 3:03 AM, every streetlamp in the city blinked three times and then vanished. Not turned off - gone. In their place hovered translucent jellyfish, humming Gregorian trap hymns from the 34th century. Somewhere in a basement padded with spaghetti noodles and disco posters, a sleep-deprived possum named Greg booted up Ableton on a laptop powered entirely by static electricity and raw regret.

As Greg dropped the first beat, time folded like a poorly-made burrito. Babies in utero started dancing the Charleston. A swarm of sentient Roombas began forming synchronized flash mobs in Walmart parking lots. In Antarctica, a lone scientist paused, removed his headphones, and muttered, “They’ve done it. They’ve turned off reality.”

Meanwhile, across five dimensions, an intergalactic council of rave goats convened. They tapped their hooves, approved the transmission, and launched the track directly into Earth's subconscious. The lights may be out... but the rave is ON.

For fans of: sentient machinery, deep space rituals, and blackout-level basslines.
Warning: May cause spontaneous enlightenment, neighbor complaints, and inexplicable goat sightings.

Agentic Earphonics

Lights Out

Earphonic - Lights Out (AgentiX Remix)

Agentic Records presents -- Coherence

In the forbidden library of a dimension best described as “mildly gelatinous,” seven philosophers, a toaster, and one exasperated raccoon gathered to decode the true meaning of coherence. As the raccoon pointed at a pie chart made entirely of raspberry jam and existential dread, a harpsichord began playing itself backwards through a speaker made of old IKEA furniture and unresolved family trauma.

At precisely 4:42 a.m. Blarptime, the moon took a deep breath and blinked twice. That was the signal. A lone DJ named Squelch Magnifico - who had fused with a fax machine after a tragic techno incident in Ibiza - booted up a track so mathematically pristine that even Fibonacci himself rose from the grave, did a somersault, and declared, “That slaps.”

Somewhere in the multiverse, jellyfish learned tap dance. A group of owls filed their taxes early. And inside the vibrating walls of a nightclub floating gently above a volcano powered by collective ADHD, it all made sense. The drop hit. The room went lucid.

Coherence had been achieved. But at what cost?

COHERENCE

Coherence (Original Mix)

Krypronite

Kryptonite

Agentic Records presents <-> CIRCLES 
-> AgentiX

In the 19th quadrant of an interdimensional parking garage, under a pulsating orb known only as Steve, a sentient Roomba named Gerald achieved enlightenment after licking a geometry textbook. This Roomba, now known across galaxies as “The Custard Prophet,” began spinning in perfect concentric circles - forever. Scholars called it madness. The squirrels of Neptune called it jazz.

Meanwhile, deep beneath an abandoned IKEA in rural Finland, a cult of rhythmic hamsters danced endlessly in formation, summoning a portal made entirely of Greek yogurt and old dubstep vinyls. As the clock struck “banana,” the portal opened, vomiting out an ancient rave - one from the pre-mammalian era - where trilobites once headbanged in viscous oceans to subaquatic techno.

Now, with the moon in retro-crab and Mercury accidentally stuck in a vending machine, the time is ripe. You, dear listener, must don the ceremonial crocs, hold the sacred USB stick, and enter the Eternal Circle. As the bass spins tighter and tighter, you’ll find yourself looped into an endless auditory spiral made of bassoons, soup cans, and your third-grade art teacher’s unresolved psychic energy.

You don’t listen to this track. You become it.
Round and round we go. Forever. For dairy. For destiny. 🌀

<-CIRCLES->

In the shimmering heat haze of a dimension shaped entirely like denim, a lone stallion with laser-cut cheekbones and a mane made of pure VHS static races across the plains of temporal spaghetti. This is not just any stallion. This is Stallion Silhouette - a freedom-powered shadow creature born from a cowboy's dream and a malfunctioning fax machine during the 1987 rodeo moon landing.

He gallops not on hooves, but on eight-wheeled rollerblades, pursued by an elite squad of libertarian flamingos wearing Bluetooth headsets and yelling something about “the sacred geometry of nacho cheese.” Every beat drop is a hoofbeat in reverse. Every synth squeal is a cactus exploding in slow motion. Every clap is the sound of a thousand bureaucratic forms being set on fire with a wink from the Cosmic Ranger.

By the time the bridge hits, a wormhole opens in a jukebox, and out rides a translucent Abraham Lincoln riding a Segway made of dolphins, high-fiving the sky and screaming “LET THE HORSE BE WILD!"

FREEDOM (Original Mix)

Agentic Records presents -> AgentiX - FREEDOM

In the shimmering heat haze of a dimension shaped entirely like denim, a lone stallion with laser-cut cheekbones and a mane made of pure VHS static races across the plains of temporal spaghetti. This is not just any stallion. This is Stallion Silhouette - a freedom-powered shadow creature born from a cowboy's dream and a malfunctioning fax machine during the 1987 rodeo moon landing.

He gallops not on hooves, but on eight-wheeled rollerblades, pursued by an elite squad of libertarian flamingos wearing Bluetooth headsets and yelling something about “the sacred geometry of nacho cheese.” Every beat drop is a hoofbeat in reverse. Every synth squeal is a cactus exploding in slow motion. Every clap is the sound of a thousand bureaucratic forms being set on fire with a wink from the Cosmic Ranger.

By the time the bridge hits, a wormhole opens in a jukebox, and out rides a translucent Abraham Lincoln riding a Segway made of dolphins, high-fiving the sky and screaming “LET THE HORSE BE WILD!”

AgentiX -> FREEDOM

In the 19th quadrant of an interdimensional parking garage, under a pulsating orb known only as Steve, a sentient Roomba named Gerald achieved enlightenment after licking a geometry textbook. This Roomba, now known across galaxies as “The Custard Prophet,” began spinning in perfect concentric circles - forever. Scholars called it madness. The squirrels of Neptune called it jazz.

Meanwhile, deep beneath an abandoned IKEA in rural Finland, a cult of rhythmic hamsters danced endlessly in formation, summoning a portal made entirely of Greek yogurt and old dubstep vinyls. As the clock struck “banana,” the portal opened, vomiting out an ancient rave - one from the pre-mammalian era - where trilobites once headbanged in viscous oceans to subaquatic techno.

Now, with the moon in retro-crab and Mercury accidentally stuck in a vending machine, the time is ripe. You, dear listener, must don the ceremonial crocs, hold the sacred USB stick, and enter the Eternal Circle. As the bass spins tighter and tighter, you’ll find yourself looped into an endless auditory spiral made of bassoons, soup cans, and your third-grade art teacher’s unresolved psychic energy.

You don’t listen to this track. You become it.
Round and round we go. Forever. For dairy. For destiny. 🌀

Circles

AgentiX - CIRCLES

I'm a trance producer with a passion for producing both progressive, psytrance and hiphop
Making music makes me happy, and so my goal is simple - to capture the energy I feel when making each track and have that carry through to the listener
My music is all about bringing good energy, with upbeat, bouncy vibes that make people feel good.
It's a deep part of who I am, and I'm grateful to have your support along the way

σοφός

Welcome to Agentic Records! 

I’m a trance producer with a passion for producing both progressive, psytrance and hiphop   

Making music makes me happy, and so my goal is simple - to capture the energy I feel when making each track and have that carry through to the listener

My music is all about bringing good energy, with upbeat, bouncy vibes that make people feel good. It’s a deep part of who I am, and I’m grateful to have your support along the way.

New tracks tagged #festival-trance