Nikita Shirokov is the type who has learned to draw conclusions from gifts-with-meaning and corporate parties without meaning. His concerts are chronicles of an anxious Tatar who discreetly hates team building and honestly doesn't understand why people believe in evolution when there are only smarter ducks around.
Shirokov dismantles life in manual labor mode: there are teeth in two rows, rescued bugs, and dances in which dance is only the name. He carefully explores the absurdity of ordinary days without trying to find hidden meanings in them, and it becomes clear: any adult philosophy ends with you waiting for your giant duck to brighten up another round of simulation.
