On March 11, Daniil Matov, known under the creative pseudonym Mazzltoff, will perform at the Moscow bar association “Profsoyuz”. In honor of this event - and as part of the work on a research text about two generations of Tula musicians - Postmusic is publishing excerpts from a year ago interview with the artist.

Naked on the icy floor Whip my cheeks Look at your hands and don't recognize them I'll rip my face bloody Dip my head into the snow I scream, I scream into the crater of an empty home I cry a lot in a millisecond.

Prorva. I am a breakthrough. Break through the drowning Little eyes gasping for air. But they don’t breathe like that, They just measure the length. I am a flash. The length of these flashes Every day of the year Equal to cast iron. And therefore I'm exhausted. The sun in the window is a friend. The sun is in the window again. Friend again. I am a breakthrough. I am a flash. I drowned. Who cares? Stalagmite?... Stalactite?... Fuck it, what difference does it make?

The soul itches Itching Itching Itching The raven tells me You're the same carrion I'll wait until the body dies Then I'll have lunch I speak Have lunch now The soul itches Itching Itching Itching Let bronchitis Let the otitis Lord, let the wound get inflamed Just not the head Again, I can't stand it The Lord is silent The soul itches Itching Itching Itching There's a worm sitting in it Oh two No three Rotten from the inside You see the raven Eat The soul itches Itching Itching Itching Stinks

You and I are lying together You're like a body of water I'm like a fragile boat Let's sing songs together I'm rowing Are you worried?

(Excerpt from Viktor Mazin’s book “Sigmund Freud. Psychoanalytic Revolution”) In the article “On Childhood Theories of Sexuality,” Sigmund Freud calls sexual differences the most amazing and fundamental among all other differences between people. For many years he has been quite confident, one might even say masculine, in describing the anatomical boy's gender acquisition. Moreover, he believes in the symmetry of this story for the girl.

You are a stranger to me now, you are a stranger. On this bad weather day, I see you off. To the door, to the gate, to the avenue along the tiles. I will accompany you to the thin, frost-crimped iron gate Our touches with our hands, our nonsense conversations. They sometimes reflected sunrises and meanings of some kind Suddenly it happened; They contained a gift of comfort. The rock of fate, a rough knot of careless remarks. What we left on our fingers, on each other, on our hands.

I remember my thigh cutting the air I remember it ripped open space with a sharp angle I remember the ribs were stuck out with rods I remember you could drink water from your collarbones in sips And the pelvic bones seemed to be trying to jump out from under the skin I remember my grandmother said It's like I'm from Auschwitz Only legs like those of a simple girl I remember I tilted And someone blushed when they saw something intimate: My skeleton under my clothes But here I lie And the thigh

On March 13 at 19:00 the first event of the parallel program of the interactive exhibition-laboratory GAKhN DISPLACED will take place. The program opens a multi-format conversation about the connection between early Soviet artistic research and modernity. Theorists, historians, philosophers and artists will present lectures, discussions, reinventions and performances.

Vetla holds broken ice, we will meet the crane wedge, and flutters like a white butterfly with spring herbs the soul of winter. Bony poplar on the shoulders the sun will rise to its zenith, and to the beat of the melody of the stream the alder earring will ring. In a sensitive slumber, a quiet forest, February is not the time for birds' nests, but the promise of miracles conceals the silence of the birches. And may it not be easy today fill the empty pages...

Sooner or later this moment comes and, often, is an intermediate point on the path to a new life. The more you fear him, the more you attract him to you. It is because of fear that a feeling of complete imbalance suddenly begins to consume you, when all areas of your life fall into pieces like Margherita pizza. Coordinated and smoothly operating, they gradually diverge in different directions, and you are no longer able to control the situation. Is that what you do?