Misha Krupin discusses his son serving in the Israeli army and his own mobilization in an interview with Focus.

You have been in the show business for nearly 20 years. Can you share if you are satisfied with your creative journey?

I have my own path, which is distinct, and I wouldn't want to label it as absolute show business. It is simply my creative life. The songs that are on the radio have emerged over the past five years. But if we are talking specifically about my creative journey, then yes, I am satisfied with it.

What can we expect from Misha Krupin's new music? What should your fans anticipate?

Fans should expect the worst. Seriously. I will strive to be different from what I was in my previous songs, and this is truly my life motto. I often hear that my earlier songs were better. Yet, for some reason, the numbers tell a different story.

I am currently actively writing an album, practically living in the studio or on my way to it. I can already say that this will be new music. New, but still mine. You will be able to hear the new material live on March 8th. My team and I are preparing a major solo concert at the Oktyabrsky Hall.

In the past, you worked with Yuri Bardash, who has since sided with the occupier. What was your last conversation with him? What would you say if you accidentally met him?

That was a conversation on the eve of his birthday in 2022. We tried to make plans and understand what was happening, discussing the war and how long it might last. What would I say to him now? Well, that’s a tough question... What would you say to Putin if you met him? I would tell him: "What’s up, goose?"

You are from Kharkiv, a city that frequently faces shelling. How long has it been since you were there? What is your hometown like during the war, in your eyes?

I am in Kharkiv almost all the time now. It is my hometown. I want to be in Kharkiv so that people see that I am here and that it is possible to live here. The city is gloomy. I increasingly see apathy among the people, unfortunately. Every day, Kharkiv residents hear explosions at night, during the day, in the center, on the outskirts — constantly and everywhere. When things improve, people return; when they worsen, they leave. That’s how life looks there right now.

It’s a large city, and many think it has been leveled to the ground. But that’s not true. It is alive, businesses are opening — I am very glad about that.

You previously mentioned that your mother raised you, but later you met your father. Do you communicate with him now, and do you maintain relationships with your half-siblings? Where is your mother now?

My father passed away. That was a long time ago, seven years ago. Before that, we didn’t communicate much because he lived nearby — I often ran into him. He used to fish right outside my windows. I do not maintain relationships with my half-siblings. My mother also passed away six years ago.

Your personal life today. It is known that you were married and have children. Do you communicate with your kids? How long has it been since you last saw them?

My daughter lives close to me, so we see each other often. She loves my music, hears new songs first, and learns them. My son called today — I was sleeping (laughs). Generally, we communicate frequently; he is in Israel, serving in the army.

At the beginning of autumn, you mentioned that you were going into the army. How has your military fate unfolded, where are you currently serving, and what are your duties?

Right now, my fitness for service is being assessed. There are questions that are delaying the process.

What would you say to those men who are hesitating whether to go or not?

Those who go are doing well. I believe it is the duty of every citizen. If you are afraid to join the Ukrainian army, then you will have to deal with the Russian one later. It’s that simple.

You are one of those who once sang and wrote songs in Russian, but now you categorically do not perform Russian repertoire. What would you like to say to those people who, three years into the war in Ukraine, still refuse to embrace Ukrainian identity?

I can only wish them success. I cannot judge (can I?) these people. I don’t want to measure everyone by my own standards. Just because I made a transition doesn’t mean everyone should do the same. Ultimately, it is each person's choice.

I would tell them that the Russians, along with the USSR, created conditions such that even Ukrainians were forced to sing in Russian. No one is forcing you to write in Ukrainian now. Initially, you were compelled to write in Russian. And only after that were you asked to do so because Russia attacked us. Because our neighbors do not like that we sing in Ukrainian.

A person must understand that the Soviet Union, and later Russia, created a vast amount of Russian-language content. And you never know who is singing it: a Ukrainian, a Belarusian, a Russian, a Kazakh, an Armenian? The Russians appropriate all this through language. It turns out that it is a contribution to someone else's culture.

And everything there mixes together — that is the main goal of the imperialists. They created a sea, and our Ukrainian song is just a drop. The goal of every conscious Ukrainian should be to increase that drop. We must stand out and separate ourselves.

I understand that there are people who still do not know the language, and I was recently even messaged: "Misha, do you no longer sing in Russian?" People, get with the times! There are still those who think that once the war is over, they can travel to Oryol or some Saratov again. Sometimes I get that impression. It is these people who write Russian-language songs.

Tell us about your path to Ukrainianization. Was it difficult to switch to communicating in Ukrainian? How did you learn your native language?

It all started with a complex. At first, I felt self-conscious about not being able to communicate freely. Then, a friend from Chernivtsi suggested that I speak exclusively in Ukrainian. With some Russian influences, as it turns out, but still speaking. I then gave one interview, then another. Sometimes I forget words, sometimes I replace them with direct translations. But I've started to speak more or less fluently.

However, writing songs is a completely different matter; it’s like diving into another world. I used to write from my head, but now that doesn’t work — I pull out my huge dictionaries, and it becomes a research project. I write songs and learn the language. Plus, I’ve completely excluded all Russian-language content: I read, listen, and watch exclusively in Ukrainian.

Although I still have a Russian-speaking circle: my grandmother, aunt, and some friends. Sometimes I forget a Russian word.

However, I can no longer sing in Russian at all. I tried once, and I thought, "Am I really singing this? It feels unnatural now." When we recorded a song with Prytula, there were words like "scary for a Russian," and I couldn't bring myself to sing it. It has become a caricature of a language for me.

I would really like there to be even more Ukrainian. I am glad that I can contribute to this: giving interviews in Ukrainian, writing on social media, and of course, creating music. My first Ukrainian-language album will be out soon, and I feel a certain responsibility towards my listeners. So now I say goodbye to you and get back to work.