5/8 : radio
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Apartment 35, ninth floor. Yana closed the iron front door with a clatter («Nina Valentinovna from 36th apartment will come to argue again soon») She carelessly put the heavy grocery bag on the tiled floor and the jar of pickles at the bottom of it clanged loudly («I hope it hadn’t crash!»). She couldn't get out of her head that Luzin was standing in line in front of her. The same senior high school student, Luzin, whom she secretly had a crush on in school. Now there was almost nothing left of that curly handsome football player she remembered: he had ballooned up like a ball and lost almost all of his curls. And those awful patent leather shoes... She wonders, if she and Luzin were a couple now («There was zero chances, but still»), would she notice all this? Or would he still remain in her eyes the same wide-smiling guy in silly tracksuits, just scoring a goal in the dusty backyard football box on Krasnaya Street. It was getting dark outside, the highway was humming as usual, the windows of the house opposite lit up with violet light from the phyto-lamps, and if there was anything that could save Yana from the spiraling thoughts of her unrealized life right now, it would only be Vanya's mix for 5/8: radio.
Apartment 113, second floor. Diana is standing under the hot shower. She doesn't like the vintage blue colored tiles, pink towel hooks made of cheap plastic, and the long crack in the sink. If only this was her apartment... The water makes a pleasant noise. It smells like shower gel (the aroma is «apple with caramel», she bought it on sale). For some reason, thoughts about the stooped man with sad eyes keep spinning in her head - a stranger she's been seeing on the way to the metro for about a year now, more or less in the same place. She hasn't seen him for a week now. Maybe he's sick? Changed jobs? Moved? What if he started deliberately avoiding her? All these questions, of course, will remain unanswered - neither in a week, nor even a month the man will not reappear. Diana will think about him from time to time, but over time she will not even be able to remember what he exactly looked like. In her memories, the stranger will turn into a faceless figure, walking towards her somewhere between the 24-hour pharmacy and the «Lenta» supermarket. In seven or eight minutes, she'll turn off the water, wrap herself in a huge purple terry towel, step out of the bathroom into the narrow hallway (feeling chilly in the first few seconds), the parquet floor will squeak under her feet as usual, and for a moment, she'll freeze and listen - a very pleasant and completely unfamiliar melody will be playing in the apartment on the floor above. Diana doesn't suspect it, but it's a mix by LVRIN for 5/8: radio.
Apartment 105, ninth floor. Slava slowly stirs sugar in a cup of black tea. Its porcelain surface is adorned with a pattern of flowers, birds, and gilding. The wall clock ticking loudly. Mom is slicing a waffle cake with nuts ("your favorite"), dad is talking about the road to the dacha, which, of course, is being cleared of snow, but not very well. Slava suddenly notices how much they have aged. But the apartment, on the contrary, seems unchanged since that evening in May several years ago when he walked out of its threshold with a suitcase full of his belongings. Here, everything still smells of soup, his childhood photo with a silly «bowl» haircut sits on one of the shelves in the living room, the carpet in the hallway covers the mark from a dropped cigarette of his school sweetheart, and there are traces of tape on the wallpaper in the small room where he used to hang posters. And Slava feels oddly pleased, about as pleased as someone who has put on the dx2ov mix for 5/8: radio.
Apartment 54, fifth floor. Sveta is smoking on the open balcony, wrapped in an old puffer jacket. It's the typical timelessness of a weekend day when it's impossible to tell exactly what time it is. Children in snowsuits that make a «whoosh-whoosh» sound while walking are dragging a huge snow tubing somewhere, and a group of red-faced men, drinking on the bench in front of the building, just emptied another bottle of vodka. But Sveta isn't here — she's in Sochi twenty-something years ago. Blond-haired Sasha sees her off at the platform. He arrived ten minutes before departure: his eye is bruised («last night got into a fight with a guy from Tambov, nothing to worry about»), and he's holding flowers, plucked from a flowerbed. He promises to call. But it never happens. Where is he now? And on which balcony would she smoke, if he had called twenty-something years ago? If Sveta knew about the Sanguine’s mix for 5/8: radio, which helps distract from persistent thoughts about things that never happened, she would immediately turn it on. But she doesn't know
In August 2023, MMOMA and vinyl store longpray records launched a joint program about non-obvious Russian music. In a series of lectures musicians and researchers talked about experimental electronics, genius outsiders of the 80s, Moscow industrial of the 90s and "mystical underground", and the event program included an electronic live duet green ice cream, an anniversary concert of the legendary Brothers in Mind and a joint performance by the Moscow project stropharia and poet Alexei Chulansky.
In August 2023, MMOMA and vinyl store longpray records launched a joint program about non-obvious Russian music. In a series of lectures musicians and researchers talked about experimental electronics, genius outsiders of the 80s, Moscow industrial of the 90s and "mystical underground", and the event program included an electronic live duet green ice cream, an anniversary concert of the legendary Brothers in Mind and a joint performance by the Moscow project stropharia and poet Alexei Chulansky.
In August 2023, MMOMA and vinyl store longpray records launched a joint program about non-obvious Russian music. In a series of lectures musicians and researchers talked about experimental electronics, genius outsiders of the 80s, Moscow industrial of the 90s and "mystical underground", and the event program included an electronic live duet green ice cream, an anniversary concert of the legendary Brothers in Mind and a joint performance by the Moscow project stropharia and poet Alexei Chulansky.
A nine-story panel building, four entrances, a hundred something apartments. Perhaps, every morning, you pass by this building on your way to the subway station, or its gray walls were visible from the window of a room in which you have not been for so long, and perhaps will never be again. In the tenth apartment on the third floor, six-year-old Vitalik wakes up. He breathes heavily. This horrible dream again about a huge red excavator trying to bury him. The old refrigerator hums in the kitchen. On the walls there are shadows of a tall birch standing in the front garden. In the next room, the TV is barely audible – Mom drank cognac again and fell asleep during the evening news. Vitalik wraps himself in a heavy blanket with a tiger pattern. In his little curly head, an unknown melody starts playing, and suddenly, it becomes somehow calmer and happier. Later, in the future, he will turn on the the Bevissthet mix for 5/8: radio, he will unmistakably recognize it, and on a particular evening, he will also become a bit calmer and happier.
This time we got into our hands a cassette without any indication where it was taped. From the handwritten caption, we know that it was meant for a party after a corporate meeting on December 8, 1999. Somewhere, some people did business, and afterwards they danced to the tape.
A rainy autumn day. You're quickly walking down a familiar street that steeply descends towards the embankment. It's barely noon, yet wine glasses already clinking in the corner bar – elderly folks loudly arguing about yesterday's match. A group of couriers speeds by on mopeds, honking and gesturing at cars at the intersection. Your long black hair, hoodie, and tote bag with textbooks are decently soaked. Whatever! Those thirty minutes of awkward hugs and shy kisses by the entrance door were worth it. Dios mío, the whole neighborhood probably saw it! In front of the «Carrefour», teenagers have gathered – eagerly munching on pastries, begging passersby for cigarettes. Near the vegetable stand, a petite dry woman watching a young curly-haired loader, looking like an ancient statue, unloads crates of artichokes. Suddenly, you decide to look up at the grey sky, cold raindrops falling on your face. How wonderful! Just as wonderful as it feels when you listening to nastya mira's mix for 5/8: radio.
It's late in the early winter evening. You are standing near the entrance to a chain supermarket. One of the windows of the five-story building across the street is illuminated by the violet light of a phytolamp. Large flakes of snow lay beautifully on the beat-up Audi, carelessly abandoned in the parking lot in front of the store. A girl in a short down jacket walks past with a quick step, sniffing her nose, she's holding a lit cigarette in her fingers shaking from the cold. You're probably better off somewhere else. But you're not going anywhere, because you're an empty bottle of good light beer left by someone in a snowdrift. And there's nothing more beautiful than the glint of your greenish glass in a streetlight. Except for a mix by a member of the \DEMO*/ collective named mirvnoutri for 5/8: radio. Hats off to Tanya @ta.tiani for working on it.
A frosty morning in the middle of winter. A small park not far from your home: pine trees with snow caps and a ski tracks parallel to the footpaths. You're wearing an unloved heavy sheepskin coat (but it's so cool to draw patterns on it with your fingers) and fleece pants which make funny rustle noises. The sky is so blue it hurts to look at it. You're riding on the sled down the steep slope of a dried up pond. The wind whistles in your ears and your eyes become watery because of the cold wind. Somewhere behind your back standing your parents: mother has a blush on her cheeks, father has probably pulled out a pack of «Marlboro». After all of that there will be hot tea from a Chinese thermos and a marmalade candies, which lying now in cellophane bag. Would it ever get any better? Of course it will. For example, when in a couple of decades you turn on the 5/8 mix: radio by Lay-Far, music producer, DJ, owner of In-Beat-Ween Music label and author of the album «True, Necessary, Kind» (we’re highly recommended to turn it on right after the mix)
@flacudm x zalman x пустыни и пустоши In Izhevsk in the late 80's - early 90's a phenomenon was mysteriously born that became a phenomenon: musicians, artists and directors, experimenting with everything they could get their hands on, formed an amazing sound, picture and image, imprinted in the minds of all witnesses as a myth, echoes of which we still hear today.
@flacudm x zalman x пустыни и пустоши In Izhevsk in the late 80's - early 90's a phenomenon was mysteriously born that became a phenomenon: musicians, artists and directors, experimenting with everything they could get their hands on, formed an amazing sound, picture and image, imprinted in the minds of all witnesses as a myth, echoes of which we still hear today.
@flacudm x zalman x пустыни и пустоши In Izhevsk in the late 80's - early 90's a phenomenon was mysteriously born that became a phenomenon: musicians, artists and directors, experimenting with everything they could get their hands on, formed an amazing sound, picture and image, imprinted in the minds of all witnesses as a myth, echoes of which we still hear today.
@flacudm x zalman x пустыни и пустоши In Izhevsk in the late 80's - early 90's a phenomenon was mysteriously born that became a phenomenon: musicians, artists and directors, experimenting with everything they could get their hands on, formed an amazing sound, picture and image, imprinted in the minds of all witnesses as a myth, echoes of which we still hear today.
It's a late evening in mid-autumn. You are about to finish another cigarette, standing on an unfamiliar balcony. A chilly wind is blowing. Your fingers are terribly cold. An empty bus is slowly creeping along the street in front of the house. You hide your hands in your pockets, casually fumble in the left one for a coin that reminds you of that very person. In one of the windows of the house across the street, you see an old woman in a terrycloth robe stirring the contents of a large frying pan. Your eyes water, either because of the wind or because of the memories. Outside the balcony door, a dozen people you don't know well are drinking wine from beautiful glasses. After a couple of rounds of dry red (and a shot of something stronger) your evening will finally become pleasant, as pleasant as a kokorocore mix for 5/8: radio.
An unusual sunny day in September. You’re walking down a familiar street. Dry autumn leaves and small twigs crunching under your feet. A warm breeze sways the young maple tree growing near the small football pitch. Your back is slightly tired from the heavy backpack. The playground swings are creaking. Your fingers still have a hint of cigarette smoke. Two heavily sun-tanned old men are playing ping pong on the old metal table. Suddenly, you remember that you won't have to sit in stuffy classrooms for the next two days (the worst of all is the physics, with the stern faces of Niels Bohr and Georg Ohm over the blackboard), worry about yet another test, or attempt to climb that silly rope in gym class. You’re smiling widely. A decade (or even a couple of decades) will pass, and on a sunny autumn day you will smile just as widely when the mix by Apollon Telefax for 5/8: radio starts playing in your headphones
@user-421955822-60159261 b2b @d_krylov
lishniy - 5/8 : radio on air at hvat , samara 16.09.2023 by 5/8 : Radio
tilly - 5/8 : radio on air at hvat , samara 16.09.2023 by 5/8 : Radio
It's a cloudy day in the end of September or already in October. You're standing in an old garage site. On the left there is a noisy highway, on the right — a neighborhood with 16-storey Brezhnev-era panel buildings. You don’t look very good: rust can be seen under the peeling paint and the gates is overgrown with moss. A large old man in dirty overalls, everyone calls him Uncle Slava, as always doing something with his «Volga» car. He won't go anywhere, he hasn't been going anywhere for a long time. A stray dog greedily drinks from a dirty puddle. A kid in Kappa sweatpants is pushing his broken moped somewhere deep into the garage site. What did your owner look like? He seemed to have blond curls and a habit of wearing sunglasses even at night. Stop! Or he had a slicked back dark hair, deep scar above the eyebrow and a ring on his pinky? You don't remember anymore. All he left behind was a calendar on the wall (March 1997, a faded photo of a topless brunette girl with a seascape on the background), a tin can filled with cigarette butts, and beige «Lada» with a pine tree air freshener hanging on a mirror in the interior. If there is anything that can intrigue more than the fate of the garage owner who disappeared in the maelstrom of the 90s, then it will be Vika Shishatskaya's mix for 5/8: radio
gurugroova — 5/8 : radio on air at sol kazan, 26.08.2023 by 5/8 : Radio
rockid — 5/8 : radio on air at sol kazan, 26.08.2023 by 5/8 : Radio
sergey nasekin — 5/8 : radio on air at sol kazan, 26.08.2023 by 5/8 : Radio
zakary tuktarov — 5/8 : radio on air at sol kazan, 26.08.2023 by 5/8 : Radio
