Клубняк2010

Sometimes life is like a sleepless night at a club - loud, expensive, and a little bit ridiculous. Everyone pretends to be confident, the lights are shining, and inside, each person is slightly stunned by their own desires. Here, they are proud of their character, measure success in Jägermeister, and believe that paper solves everything except loneliness. A world where flexing is the language of survival, and "new Russian" isn't a nationality, but a mood: a little pathos, a little pain, and a tonne of ostentatious calm. Satire in autotune, where they hide fatigue under a beat and call it style.