“You’re far away. But the TV is right here.”

Personally, I constantly swing from side to side. I really value the days when I feel confident about what I need to do, about my ability to influence something. But then some new event happens and... In general, I do feel a sense of responsibility, but I try to separate this feeling from guilt and shame. Guilt and shame are completely destructive. But responsibility is an important thing that is useful for everyone to accept in the area where they want to become a professional. For example: I'm a musician; I work with a manager who negotiates on my behalf. But that doesn’t absolve me of responsibility. Responsibility makes me the master of my own life. And I think that even in such difficult moments, it's important not to shy away from responsibility so that we can one day become masters in our own home.

I agree. What happens in your name relates to you, even if you didn’t want those actions or didn’t support them. And you have to deal with that. Regarding my feelings, I can say the following. For a long time—probably since 2012—I have been developing an attitude toward everything I do as a kind of slow pedagogy mission. I increasingly realized that we wouldn't be able to quickly overcome the shortcomings of the existing system, that all social elevators and ways of transferring power have been usurped, that no one will give it up just like that, and that our generation probably won't be able to make any significant changes. Yes, we lost to these people because armed violence is taboo for us, while for them it is a monopolized everyday tool. While we were grappling with complex questions, they operated with simple and cynical answers. It seemed that all we had left was to educate the next generations on other values that we share ourselves, to promote those values and argue why they are important and healthy in our view. But we were not given time for that, as all our attempts were abruptly cut short. Naturally, the first emotion is confusion. From the very first day, I asked myself: what good can I do? And I came to the decision: to hold charity concerts and raise money for refugees. Honestly, I'm currently holding on to this idea—these concerts and the potential help we can provide to people who find themselves in a foreign country with absolutely unclear prospects, not knowing if they will ever be able to return to normal life and see their hometowns again."

Every boy is scolded by his mother in childhood for fighting in the yard, and she never accepted as an excuse that some other bully from the neighboring yard also fought with someone last week. For her, neither your conviction about the opponent's malicious intentions nor the stone in his back pocket was an argument—if she finds out that you were the first to start fighting, you won't be able to escape it. Because soon you'll be 14, facing criminal responsibility, and if you end up killing someone, the court won’t care whose knife was sharper in the kitchen drawer, and any provocations won’t help reduce your sentence. The only thing that will ease your life is a declaration of insanity. "Son, have you become a psycho?" she would sigh. Because the first blow makes a fight truly inevitable. Because the idiotic actions of others won't justify your own idiocy. Because conflicts should be resolved with words, not fists. And also, the argument "I wasn't the one who hit; I was just standing nearby" never worked for mom either!

I always feel very down when I go into the comments and read that all my actions are insignificant. You can build an entire chain from there. A hero is not someone who posted a black square, but someone who released a song with a subtext. A hero is not someone who released a song, but someone who played a concert. Then: a hero is not someone who played a concert... And this is an endless destructive ladder.

It’s demotivating, of course. Whatever you do seems pointless.

Yes. Even if you go onto the battlefield with a gun, for some, that will still be "not enough." In this sense, I really like Boris Nemtsov's quote: "Do you want to change something? Fight for it. Afraid to go out on the street? Write online. Afraid to write online? Tell your wife or mistress how life should be. Just do something, each one of you—whatever you can and whatever you're not afraid of." You don’t have to aim for something gigantic right away— even the biggest things are made up of small actions. You shouldn’t compare your level of support with someone else's, your contribution with someone else's contribution. All good deeds and words are valuable. Understanding this gives a lot of strength. Unlike Vanya, I’ve always been very shy and fearful about political issues. If you watch my interview with Yuri Dud, you can see how I was sweating when those topics came up. Now for me—it's a point of no return. Events have happened after which I no longer care about holding onto my career, possessions, or contacts. I'm ready to take risks and I'm not afraid of looking ridiculous. People with loud positions always look that way—but I’ve crossed that [internal] threshold. I’m ready to speak out passionately, to be funny, to be silly, but to talk about it in any setting. For me, there’s power in that. Of course, they want to convince us that all this is a meaningless movement. But we know that's not true.

I haven’t written a single line during this time. But I quickly switched to preparing for the upcoming charity concerts. That started a week after the war began, and at that moment life gained at least some sort of timeline. Before that, it felt like an endless mess; time and space froze and didn’t move. I remember that feeling: the war has been going on for four days, but it feels like a year has passed. As for music, I only listened to "Depth of Field" by Delfin and something from Metallica once during this time. Music just doesn’t come to me—neither other people's nor my own. The only format in which I interact with it is rehearsals.

I haven't listened to music in a long time; that habit disappeared a few years ago. But I write—I really want to write a lot. I've even shared some drafts. Of course, I can't evaluate these songs yet—they're written under the huge influence of emotions. Later, I’ll need to analyze them ten times and figure out if they're even needed. I don’t know yet.

Yes. And by the way, keeping a diary helps a lot—I highly recommend it. Two pages a day, three—it’s usually a guarantee that throughout the day, you'll find it easier to cope with your emotions. For me personally, I need to write songs and poems to articulate complex feelings that don't fit in my head. To look at them not as the anxiety that flits around your mind like a bird in a cage, but like this: face to face. This helps me not to fear the feeling, to analyze it, and to do something with it.

Well said. I recently came across a phrase in a book: "You can't fight thoughts with thoughts." It wasn't said about songs, but it applies to them too. When you articulate your feelings into a song, you kind of break that syncretic emotion that has consumed your consciousness into specific phrases. It's easier to experience it that way.

It's like how children are asked to draw a picture—and then psychologists work through that drawing.

Fortunately, my circle of friends turned out to be quite monolithic. The only exception is my grandfather and grandmother, who essentially raised me. It's particularly difficult to discuss what's happening with my grandmother. She still can’t accept the fact that the television is lying to her. I see that she doesn’t perceive any of my arguments; she hides from the emotions that she would otherwise have to let in and experience. It's very challenging, but we manage to maintain our relationship. I act gently because if I push too hard, we’ll just end up arguing, and that's it. She's already over 80; arguing is pointless and just cruel toward her. My mom passed away many years ago, and my dad left the family when I was nine, so these are my closest older relatives. My grandfather is hard of hearing and has almost lost his sight—they're very elderly people, and the most monstrous war of the last century has already shattered their childhoods. If I manage to reach them and open their eyes to what's really happening—then what? I'm afraid it would just break them. Still, I can't completely avoid talking about it with them. But I try not to cause pain and not to overdo it.

I also have several relatives of different ages with whom we have radically differing positions. They simultaneously care about me and disagree with me. I spend several hours a week talking with them and ask them not to shut me out. At first, I wanted to shut myself off—like, let’s not discuss this topic. But then I realized that this was wrong. I wrote to them: "Please, let’s not close off until the very end while you still have some chance to believe that I haven't completely lost my mind. Let’s keep this connection. Every action and every word of mine—I will explain all of it." And I do explain. These are huge messages and very long phone conversations. It’s difficult to talk about such things calmly because for all of us, it’s a personal story: we’ve all been to Ukraine, performed there, and we have many acquaintances from there. It’s very hard to calmly listen when they say, "We have to [conduct the war]." It’s very challenging—but I see this as an important part of my activity too.

This is a very important thought for me. For us, Ukraine is not just an image on television. It’s our friends, it’s a country where we have often been. I grew up in Belgorod, on the border with Ukraine. Many people in Belgorod and Kharkiv lived as if they belonged to two cities, traveling to each other on weekends. Kharkiv was our nearest metropolis—not St. Petersburg, not Moscow, but Kharkiv. As an active participant in the Belgorod hip-hop community, I dreamed of performing at Kharkiv rap festivals. On the way from Belgorod to Kharkiv, a shopping center was built on the Ukrainian side, designed for Belgorod residents. After 2014, when people stopped visiting each other, that shopping center lost its purpose. There are many such examples. I believe that modern Russian propaganda would have been impossible eight years ago. When people stopped communicating, they turned into images on television for each other, with a clear voiceover.

We haven’t seen each other for a long time. And now it has become very easy to convince viewers of "Russia 24" or RT that the photos of bombed Mariupol are necessary and that all of this is done for the greater good, and in fact, it’s not us who did it, but some Nazis whom we will soon defeat. But this required preparation, and it has been ongoing for eight years. In my opinion, the whole task of this propaganda machine was to turn real people into some kind of images with which anything could now be done. In the early days of the war, I inadvertently overheard a conversation among three truck drivers in a roadside café. One was spouting "classics": Nazis, Bandera supporters, "Moskalyaku na gilyaku," "Who doesn’t jump is a Moskali," it was high time—if not us, then them—and so on. The second one said that overall, everything was correct, but they should have dealt specifically with LPR and DPR rather than attacking on all fronts. And the third was trying to convince them: "Guys, you haven't been there; I go there all the time—there are people just like us; they always spoke Russian with me, and there were no problems." But those two didn’t believe him! Not at all. As my grandmother once said over video call: "You’re far away. But the TV is right here."

Noize MC: In many cities, I wasn’t allowed to perform last year. The Investigative Committee initiated an examination of my lyrics for extremism in early December. I haven’t left any of those lists [of undesirable musicians] since 2014, so I wasn’t surprised that another list started with me. I’ve been living in this situation for a long time. The new thing is the horror of knowing that right now people are dying in incredible numbers due to the actions of the Russian army. As for any additional pressure from the state, I haven’t experienced that. Yes, there was a wave of derogatory reports and articles about our concerts with Liza on state channels and other propaganda media, but personally, I found these helpless attacks somewhat amusing: "Look at them—they're supposedly helping Ukrainians, but the fund is Polish! And Poles are known to kidnap Ukrainians and make them sex slaves—what kind of charity is that!" In short, it’s like saying there’s elderberry in the garden while there’s no war in Kyiv.

I haven’t received any threats. And I’m trying to maintain a connection with listeners from Russia. It’s important for me to keep that label on my cheek: I’m a girl from Russia. For the whole world, this is an expressive label right now, but I won’t erase it. I’m ready for a thousand hours of conversation to prove that this doesn’t mean I’m a militant and evil person who is against liberal values. But I also won’t erase my label as a dissident from the other cheek. A dissident simply means someone who disagrees. And actually, our constitution allows me to be that person. I try to rely on this rather than on some emotional statements meant to intimidate me.

No. My acquaintances ask me, "Well, [abroad], do they hate you?" I haven't encountered anything like that. Not once in my life. All the hate, as always, is only online.

So far, not at all.

Right now, I feel a lot of unity with artists who speak out and behave courageously. Previously, there were some creative questions about many of them. But now, that all seems to fade into the background. You really see these people as your fellow tribesmen.

At first, I was surprised by the straightforwardness of someone like Valery Meladze. But then I remembered that he and his brother are from Mykolaiv. So there’s a personal story behind that. Again, those for whom Ukrainians are not just an image on television with a barking voiceover cannot physically not react. I was also inspired by Marina Ovsyannikova's actions; she is a great person.

Yes, I am. The old saying "Don't read Soviet newspapers before lunch" takes on new meaning. Yes, we need to understand what’s happening. None of us have the right to escapism today. All news inevitably catches up with me; I don’t turn away from what’s happening. But receiving it like an intravenous drip is suicidal. You need to establish a schedule; otherwise, it’s impossible to function normally. You have to take care of your family, work, help those in need, and make sure your roof isn’t leaking. My howling in the corner and banging my head against the wall won’t save anyone or help anyone. Although sometimes I do exactly that. I wake up at five in the morning and can’t fall back asleep—those horrors are right in front of my eyes. Then I pull myself together and start a new day. In my opinion, despair in this situation is as dishonorable as a lack of compassion.

Those feelings do come up, but you have to take care of yourself; otherwise, you won’t be able to do anything useful. You can’t dissolve into negative thoughts.

Of course, my first reaction is to convey [information about the war], to communicate, to convince. But I decided to check how necessary that was, so I did a simple survey: "Who started [the war]?"—and [offered three flags as answer options]. I looked at the results and realized that my followers don’t need to be scared [by news from Ukraine]; these particular people already read and see it. They need something else—support, so they feel brave, find some way to express themselves, and just not lose their minds. So they can live and function alongside me while doing something good.

None at all. It’s been difficult for me to adjust my brain to such a wave where you don’t plan anything ahead.

I live in a post-apocalyptic logic. Recently, a friend shared with me a very cool expression: "chaos management." So I live in post-apocalyptic logic and apply chaos management to the post-apocalypse. Here we are—in the era of true no future. Nothing is clear. In two days, there may not be peace anymore. I remember the night when the Zaporizhzhia Nuclear Power Plant was on fire. I refreshed the news every 20 seconds for several hours and felt like a nuclear disaster could happen right then and there. How can you make any creative plans in such a situation? The only thing you can manage to do is freestyle.