We were moving in our boat on a warm August evening, leaning against the edges, faces hidden under the peaks of our caps, when we heard a voice reaching us from the shore.
– Hey there..good evening!
 A man was waving at us. His broad smile lighted our hearts.
– Good evening..stranger! Fancy a ride? 
His name was Karel. Aka @klmn-1. K obviously, for his indisputable koolness, l for the limitless knowledge of music, m for the maturity of his sound, n for the never-ending ability to surprise.
Raw and sleazy, smooth and melodic, bouncing and pumping. He knew the deal. What a ride it was..

PM 02 klmn

The night was falling over the warm and loud September city. Beep-beep, could we have the bill please, where are you, Mary wait, excuse me, I love you, beep-beep. Crossing the street, we bumped into a young lady laughing at her phone screen and not watching the road.
 – Oops, sorry!
 – It’s ok, but you don’t go ahead until you tell us the joke.
Strangely, she agreed to that random stupid deal. The joke was killer. The girl was @olya-smok. We clicked instantly.
More evenings together followed. She appeared to be playful and witty, deep and thoughtful, gentle and sensitive, sharp and dramatic..like the music she played..

PM 03 Olya Smok

Long ago, on a freezing December morning, we were taking a walk under the blazing Kyiv sun. We stopped to take a picture of an ugly but in a way curious building only to find that we were not alone in enjoying that bizarre beauty. 
- Stunner, isn’t it? 
- Yes, indeed.
Our partner’s in crime name was @dimasokolovskyi. Coupled with his profound gaze, Dima’s placid and unembarrassed silences were so magnetic that we couldn’t extinguish the fire of interest towards him. So we started talking, just like we know. Apparently, he had a lot to say, and we continued our walk together.
Behind his gentle and humble look was just as gentle and humble soul with a deep love for melancholic darkness, dense matters, unpolished forms, and warped voices of the past. Bizarre, indeed..

PM 04 Dima Sokolovsky

At 5 am, the smoke was beginning to lift and a tender May sun was climbing up the horizon thrusting its rays into the dark corridor of a warehouse. Leaned against the resonating wall, a woman was taking a slow drag on her cigarette. 
- Hey, sorry, got a light?  
- Sure.
A soft warm smile lit her face that seemed so familiar. Turned out it was she who had been playing a few hours before making all present drip with sweet sweat. The character of her music was nothing like anyone else's but like a morning sun ray or a strobing in the darkness light, like an enveloping fog or an impenetrable wall of cigarette smoke, like fragility or power, like Karine..

@karine_closer

PM 05 Karine

PM 06 Alex Savage

It was a usual working day at the record store filled with the sounds of cashier bells, door slams, duct tape hugging LP mailers, and regulars chattering over new in on the speakers.

@amirhanani was emptying the return box when a record slipped out of the pile in his hands and fell on the floor. He bent down to pick it up but the record seemed to resist and as if on purpose sneaked out of the sleeve and back on the floor. A crimson red cover, and the label with some crazy art on it..a quick thought ran through Amir’s head: if I were a record, I would probably look like this one. No surprise now he was curious to hear it. He put the record on. Chattering fell silent. The only sounds one could hear was some exceptional music and the record whispering quietly:

– You pretty boy, finally got me spinning..

PM 07 Amir

On an early August morning, we were sitting at an old factory sports hall, talking and reflecting on what had been the best festival we'd experienced so far..An intimate circle of old and new faces caressed by warm and tender sun rays, the moment of pure life. A perfect moment for a joint, too, but as it sometimes happens among smokers, no one happened to have a fire..There was a guy we didn’t know. A curly fringe, a radiant smile, luminous eyes..His name was Kirill, and he came up with the idea we’d all known from our childhood years. Making fire with reading glasses and a small ball of tinder..After some searching around, a couple of easy actions followed, and he exclaimed: - "Iskra!". A sparkle ignited the fire. It was a long beautiful morning with old and new friends..sparkle, sparkle, iskra. @kirill-nilsson

PM 08 Kirill Nilsson

That day @diopsidd was working her very last shift in the skate shop. Summer had just started, yet the heat was full-on, unfairly burning the knees and noses of those who’d waited for it with a loving heart. Rose bushes were blooming in all possible colours exuding the perfume that tenderly intoxicated both humans and butterflies.  
Among the latter, the rumour had it that the girl from the skate shop was one of them, just without wings. Butterflies would occasionally fly into the shop to sneakily examine her in an attempt to justify or disprove the myth. Velvety skin, big eyes, gracious moves. And the music playing from the speakers...was like a bittersweet nectar from a flower, which is smiling, gorgeous, and yet a tiny bit sad. She was one of them, she definitely was..

PM 09 Doxan

PM 10 Rommedahl

PM 11 Shakolin

PM 12 DJ 69

PM 01 M.Tkachenko

Audio practices. Based in Kyiv 

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