5/8 : radio

bankai — 5/8 : radio at sol kazan, 15.05.2026 by 5/8 : Radio

tag ear — 5/8 : radio at sol kazan, 15.05.2026 by 5/8 : Radio

vokbud — 5/8 : radio at sol kazan, 15.05.2026 by 5/8 : Radio

anton kalinin — 5/8 : radio at sol kazan, 15.05.2026 by 5/8 : Radio

You're riding an old bicycle along a dirt road through a dacha cooperative. Every time you hit a bump, the rusty bell and the slightly wobbly rear rack give a little jingle. In the distance, you can see a wall of towering pine crowns. The sky is clouding over, promising rain soon. You pedal past wooden houses with peeling paint on their walls, overgrown garden plots, lopsided fences tightly woven...

You're standing in front of a monumental building made of concrete and glass. The wind blows dry leaves across a small square paved with stone tiles arranged in a pattern that looks like your grandmother's living room rug. Under a wide canopy, an old-fashioned sign glows with cold neon light: "Cultural Center." A young man in a turtleneck sweater—with a strikingly familiar face—dashes out of the l...

Cloower Wooma — 5/8 : Radio #257 by 5/8 : Radio

You're standing on the embankment of an old town, pieced together like a construction kit from dozens of different places you've already been. Ahead lies a wide strait, where large cargo ships glide slowly past. On the opposite shore, veiled in a light haze, are the crimson lights of a TV tower and the sharp spire of a town hall, hemmed in on all sides by intricate old houses. You absolutely must...

Maybe it’s the pattern of the paving stones, or maybe it’s the design on a stranger’s scarf in the metro, but something suddenly reminds you of that apartment carpet. The very apartment that, not so long ago — just yesterday, it feels — was the very definition of home. With its old, creaky parquet in the hallway, the clothesline with multicolored pegs on the balcony, the sideboard from a city star...

You notice that nearly all the leaves have fallen from the trees outside your window, and through their bare branches, you can now clearly see the lights on in the bulding across the street. It suddenly brings back a memory of an autumn evening many years ago. It had grown dark with startling speed. Your parents were taking you with them to visit friends — there was no one to leave you with at hom...

Suddenly, you catch a faint, familiar scent — an aroma you first encountered in a far-off country. And it makes you wonder: does anyone there remember you, or that you once walked their streets? Maybe it's the woman in the green car, singing loudly along to the radio, who stopped for you at a crosswalk late one evening. Or the freckled cashier with braces, who rang up your bottle of ice-cold soda...

You look out the window, then at your phone screen, then out the window again. Why is it getting dark so early? Suddenly, images from a similarly cool August evening many, many years ago appear in your mind. The dim glow of a couple of yard lamps (there were three altogether, but the third one, as always, was out). An old bench with peeling paint. The creak of swings on the playground. The clingy...

This mixtape was recorded for the farewell disco of the senior group of the third stream of the Poseidon children camp 15 km from Varna in Bulgaria.

5/8 : radio at letnik — dima safronov b2b dima studitsky by 5/8 : Radio

5/8 : radio at letnik — lapti b2b dj wedding by 5/8 : Radio

5/8 : radio at letnik — dirty glassez by 5/8 : Radio

5/8 : radio at letnik — politkovsky b2b anya zakharova by 5/8 : Radio

5/8 : radio at letnik — interesnye oshysheniya by 5/8 : Radio

5/8 : radio at letnik — tim obscure b2b ayokeh by 5/8 : Radio

5/8 : radio at letnik — ratomskiy b2b manons by 5/8 : Radio

5/8 : radio at letnik — stereosobaka b2b kruchinski, 1.06.2025 by 5/8 : Radio

You notice the badly faded by the time painted name «Oleg» on the concrete fence, behind which there once stood a furniture factory, now — construction site for just another residential complex. Suddenly, you catch yourself wondering: what kind of person was this Oleg twenty years ago? Which sneaker did he usually put on first — left or right? Did he like how he looked in those group photos from y...

You suddenly hear the distant clatter of train wheels somewhere far away. And in your memory surfaces a summer day when you were still very young. A winding forest path. The crunch of pine cones under your feet. Clouds glimpsed through the branches of towering trees. You already know — what comes next is everything you once loved: the creak of the old metal gate at the dacha, the rope swing hangin...

You notice a pair of “weary” sneakers abandoned on the street near a trash bin. For some reason, your mind begins to wander, imagining the countless steps taken in them — through the streets of familiar and unfamiliar cities, all in an attempt to outpace bad thoughts. Sometimes it worked, and sometimes it didn’t. You picture them on a bright summer day, riding in a commuter train as the view outsi...

You spot a large crow sitting on a chestnut tree branch. Suddenly you go back ten, maybe twenty years. An endlessly long literature class. To kill time, you look at the dusty leaves of the ficus on the windowsill, the utterly expressionless face of Fyodor Dostoevsky in the portrait above the blackboard, the deeply carved letter "A" on the desk, the delicate gold-rimmed glasses of Yulia Alexandrovn...