ANGIE Channels Ritual, Reflection, and Emotional Depth on Her Non Merci Debut
Since first stepping behind the decks in 2022, Cypriot DJ and producer ANGIE has quickly emerged as a singular voice in the island’s dance scene. A resident at Kesh Club in Limassol and a regular presence at key venues across Cyprus, she’s built a name on deep, emotionally charged sets that treat the dancefloor like something sacred. Now, she brings that energy to her first official release with “The M-Path,” a cinematic, atmospheric house cut out now, July 25 via Fiona Kraft’s Non Merci Music. The track marks a major step forward for ANGIE, whose rise continues to be grounded in intentionality, emotional connection, and the raw, personal power of music.
In this exclusive interview with Magnetic, ANGIE reflects on the ritual of DJing, the emotional architecture of a good set, and the quiet, powerful moments that remind her why she plays.
Do you ever think of DJing as something ritualistic or sacred—or does that language feel too heavy for you?
I definitely see DJing as something deeply ritualistic. For me, it is not just about playing tracks — it’s about creating a shared emotional journey through sound. There’s a moment, right before I step behind the decks, that feels sacred in its own way — like entering a different space where the outside world fades.
The connection between me, the music, and the crowd becomes this unspoken energy exchange that I don’t take lightly. Every set of mine is different, but the intention is always the same: to channel something bigger than myself and bring people into a state of collective presence, no matter where they come from. I wouldn’t say this language is heavy, but it is powerful. It’s a ritual of sound, emotion, and community that I feel honored to lead each time.
Has there ever been a night where the energy in the room felt bigger than music—something shared, even spiritual?
Beautiful question! Yes, absolutely.
There have been a few nights at the Club in Cyprus I am resident at where the energy was so intense and unified that it felt like something bigger than all of us — beyond just music. One in particular stands out: the crowd was completely in sync, almost like we were breathing as one organism.
I wasn’t just playing tracks; I was responding to something in the room, and it felt like the room was responding to me in return. People weren’t just dancing — they were feeling. There was this powerful silence between drops, this collective anticipation that felt sacred — and yes, I’m using that powerful language on purpose! I remember thinking, “this is why I do this.”
In those moments, DJing becomes more than a performance — it becomes a form of communion, a deep emotional connection that you can’t really explain until you’ve felt it. And maybe that feeling is different for each one of us — who knows — but the most surprising thing is that somehow, we’re all in it together!
What do you think people are looking for when they come out to dance—escapism, connection, catharsis?
I think people come out to dance for a mix of reasons — and often they don’t even fully realize what they’re looking for until they find it on the dancefloor. Some are searching for escapism, a way to leave behind whatever’s weighing on them.
Others are craving connection — with friends, strangers, or even with themselves in a new way. And then there’s catharsis: that release you can only get when your body takes over, when the music pulls something out of you that words never could. The beauty of dance music is that it holds space for all of that at once. It gives people the freedom to feel without needing to explain why.
For me, the most magical moments are when I can sense that the crowd is experiencing all of those things at the same time — it’s powerful, and deeply human and I have felt if previously myself!
Do you have any personal rituals—before a set, during, or after—that help you tap into the right headspace?
Yes, I do. Before a set, I always try to take a few quiet moments to ground myself — to slow down my thoughts and tune into my body. I usually visualize the kind of energy I want to create in the room, almost like setting an intention.
But I also spend time really observing. I check the vibe — the people, the gender balance, how they’re interacting, even how the venue feels. The space speaks before the music even starts. Set times matter too — playing early, late, or peak changes the whole emotional dynamic. And honestly, how I feel in that moment plays a huge role.
If I’m off, the crowd can feel it. That self-awareness helps me perform with more clarity and flow. It’s a mix of intuition, energy, and emotional preparation — and for me, that’s the real ritual.
How do you see your role in shaping collective energy during a set?
I see my role as guiding the energy, not controlling it. I’m not there to push the crowd in one direction — I’m there to read the room and respond in a way that feels right.
The vibe always starts with me, but I also stay open to what people are giving back. Sometimes they need a lift, sometimes they want to go deeper, and sometimes they just want to let go. I pay attention to those shifts and build the journey from there. It’s a give-and-take — and when we’re in sync, you can feel it in the air.
For me, it’s not just about dropping tracks and playing bangers. It’s about building an experience people can feel in their bodies and remember later, even if they can’t explain why.
Have you ever witnessed something on a dancefloor that made you see DJing differently?
There were moments, indeed, that made me see DJing in a different light.
One I’ll never forget was seeing someone in the crowd completely let go — eyes closed, arms open, totally in their own world, lost in the music like no one else existed. It wasn’t loud or attention-seeking, but it carried something raw and deeply emotional. It reminded me that DJing isn’t just about entertaining — it can create a space where people process their emotions, release something they’ve been carrying, or reconnect with themselves. That moment shifted something in me.
I started seeing the booth not just as a stage, but as a space of responsibility. People bring everything to the dancefloor — joy, heartbreak, anxiety, hope — and sometimes, music helps them move through it. Since then, I pay more attention. Not just to the overall energy, but to those individual, quiet moments happening within the crowd.
Watching someone go through something so intimate in a room full of strangers reminded me how personal this experience really is. It was humbling, meaningful and honestly, kind of beautiful.
When you look back at your most powerful nights behind the decks, what do they have in common?
When I look back at my most meaningful nights behind the decks, they all have one thing in common: a feeling of deep connection — with the crowd, the music, and myself. It’s not always about the biggest venue or the wildest energy. Sometimes it’s a smaller room, but something just clicks.
The communication becomes unspoken, and the vibe flows so naturally that I stop thinking and start feeling. In those moments, I’m not just mixing tracks — I’m telling a story, and the crowd is right there with me, reacting, trusting, giving back. It feels honest, alive, and unpredictable in the best way. That kind of synchronicity — when everyone’s present and open — is what I live for.
Those are the nights that stay with me.
