5/8 : radio

bilgesez — 5/8 : radio at sol kazan, 18.05.2024 by 5/8 : Radio

tyutchenko — 5/8 : radio at sol kazan, 18.05.2024 by 5/8 : Radio

pasha yves — 5/8 : radio at sol kazan, 18.05.2024 by 5/8 : Radio

glamour pashok — 5/8 : radio at sol kazan, 18.05.2024 by 5/8 : Radio

robsn b2b dima safronov — 5/8 : radio night at kuznyacruise II by 5/8 : Radio

vasya saiko — 5/8 : radio night at kuznyacruise II by 5/8 : Radio

Apartment 66, eighth floor. Tanya looks at the beautiful lipstick imprint on the wine glass. The last guests have just left: she can still hear the elevator rumbling down, carrying Ildar and Sasha. Someone left the turquoise lighter on the kitchen table next to a cup of cold coffee. It became completely quiet and therefore a little melancholic. Perhaps she should have slowed down a bit. Then she wouldn't have felt the urge to tell that childhood story about summer camp in front of everyone (yes, the guests laughed, but it seemed more out of pity) or to plan a joint trip for the upcoming weekend (it's already clear – no one is going anywhere). And she definitely wouldn't have wanted to write that message to that person while stepping out to smoke on the balcony (of course, he read it and didn't reply). Tanya stretches her legs and closes her eyes. The interior of her tiny kitchen with a glowing garland, silly magnets on the fridge, and a pile of dirty dishes in the sink, smoothly transitions into spinning abstract paintings. Ahead lies an uneasy ten-hour sleep and a heavy morning, which can only be improved by a painkiller pill and a mix from 5/8: radio by our buddy Dima Krylov from Samara

Apartment 91, fifth floor. Ilya slowly stirs cheap coffee in an old mug with the picture of the Egyptian pyramids (his younger sister brought it from vacation in Hurghada about ten years ago). Just one more day to endure. Then he'll head to the train station in the evening and hop on the suburban train. It will be hot and stuffy in the carriage, his shirt will instantly stick to his body. Outside the window there will be graffiti-adorned concrete fences, garage cooperatives, auto repair shops, old houses, vacant lots, new houses, more concrete fences, other people's dachas, and finally, dense forest. He'll get off at a station with a funny name and walk along a sandy road between fields overgrown with tall grass. In the country house inherited from his grandfather, it will smell familiarly of an old books. Ilya will brew strong coffee in his favorite red polka-dot mug (for some reason it will taste better than at home) and, sitting on the porch, will listen as unfamiliar nocturnal birds sing beyond the fence in the twilight-darkened pine forest. The itching need to transplant the distant raspberry bush growing by the tilted barn will swiftly push out all other thoughts and desires. He will finally take a deep breath—feeling oddly pleasant and serene, as if he had turned on Perez's mix for 5/8: radio.

@accidentalpoint @sheva_music It's a sunny day, late March. You're smiling. Maybe it's because it's Saturday, you don't have to think about work, and there's an empty glass of lager on the counter in front of you. Or in your memory suddenly arose a picture from your childhood: you are driving your father's old car out of town for the first kebabs, in the trunk rattles disassembled brazier, and you anticipate how you will pedal along the paths of the dacha cooperative on an old "Desna". What? Do you really remember how beautiful looked in the sunset sunlight slightly disheveled hair of that very man (you are still shy and do not admit anything), while you went out for a smoke for five minutes? Or maybe there's a 5/8 broadcast playing in your headphones right now: radio from the Accidental Point space? Yeah, probably the latter.

@accidentalpoint It's a sunny day, late March. You're smiling. Maybe it's because it's Saturday, you don't have to think about work, and there's an empty glass of lager on the counter in front of you. Or in your memory suddenly arose a picture from your childhood: you are driving your father's old car out of town for the first kebabs, in the trunk rattles disassembled brazier, and you anticipate how you will pedal along the paths of the dacha cooperative on an old "Desna". What? Do you really remember how beautiful looked in the sunset sunlight slightly disheveled hair of that very man (you are still shy and do not admit anything), while you went out for a smoke for five minutes? Or maybe there's a 5/8 broadcast playing in your headphones right now: radio from the Accidental Point space? Yeah, probably the latter.

@accidentalpoint @uladzimirkolb It's a sunny day, late March. You're smiling. Maybe it's because it's Saturday, you don't have to think about work, and there's an empty glass of lager on the counter in front of you. Or in your memory suddenly arose a picture from your childhood: you are driving your father's old car out of town for the first kebabs, in the trunk rattles disassembled brazier, and you anticipate how you will pedal along the paths of the dacha cooperative on an old "Desna". What? Do you really remember how beautiful looked in the sunset sunlight slightly disheveled hair of that very man (you are still shy and do not admit anything), while you went out for a smoke for five minutes? Or maybe there's a 5/8 broadcast playing in your headphones right now: radio from the Accidental Point space? Yeah, probably the latter.

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.

«Заполярье 16.02.24» by 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

- a legendary project founded in 1983 in the secret Ural city of Chelyabinsk-70 (later Snezhinsk) by Igor "Gosha Ryzhiy" Shaposhnikov and Vladimir "Vova Siny" Emelev. The basic instruments of the project were tape recorders and magnetic tape rings, which served as artisanal samplers. Such musicians as Vitaly Stern, who later founded with Igor Kolyadny the cult electronic project "Vida Ryb", Andrey Kireev (Shake), Sergey Alexandrov (OMMIX) and Alexey Alexeev (Nikolai Kopernik) collaborated with the band. The project became a legend of experimental Soviet rock of the 80s-90s, and in 2023 celebrated its 40th anniversary with a jubilee concert at MMOMA.

- electronic duo specializing in such music directions as ambient, intelligent techno, experimental, spoken word. They use various instruments of sound production: grooveboxes, samplers, synthesizers, flute and voice, organically combining improvisation with prepared material, and traditional approach with experiments - conscious and intuitive.

Stropharia is a Moscow project formed by Dmitry Polikarpov 30 years ago, in 1993, on the wave of fascination with industrial culture, psychedelic electronics and the transgressive side of the rave scene. Over the three decades of the project's history, everything has turned upside down, but the most important things have remained in place: smart electronics, radical beats, digital hardcore, acid trance and the unchanging charisma of the speaker. At MMOMA, Dmitry Polikarpov's improvisation interacted with Alexei Chulansky's poetic recitation.

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.