CHERNIHIV - Last weekend, Olga Korolova fled her home in Chernihiv, Ukraine, with her daughter, her dog and whatever possessions she could cram into two bags.

“I was driving like a crazy,” she says. “I saw a bomb and in my brain, all I could think was, ‘Get away because of the baby’.” She drove for hours, eventually crossing the border into Poland where, that same night, she had a gig booked. One of Ukraine’s top techno DJs, Korolova threw out her setlist and played music exclusively by fellow Ukrainian artists. “I was crying on the stage,” she tells BBC News. “I was playing and I was crying. It was the hardest set of my life, but I knew for sure I needed to do something.”

Korolova donated her fee to the Ukrainian army and charities helping people displaced by the conflict. The following night, she hosted a separate fundraiser on her YouTube channel. Her Instagram page, once home to glamorous travel photos and shots of nightclubs, now shares updates from Ukraine and footage of the Russian invasion. Her aim is to show fans - especially Russian fans - the extent of the destruction. “I’m in shock that Russian people are not seeing the truth,” she says. “It’s like they are in North Korea, without information. My fans from Russia, they send me messages saying, ‘It’s not true. It’s a lie. All of your posts are a lie.’ They don’t want to see it.”

Korolova is not alone. Faced with war, Ukraine’s vibrant and flourishing music scene has become a sort of unofficial news outlet, documenting the conflict for an audience that might not be tuned in to traditional news channels. “Everyone is now addressing their audience on social media,” says folk singer Khrystyna Soloviy.

“We are spreading information about events in cities, trying to reach out to Russians to go to rallies, telling them that this is Russia’s war of aggression against Ukraine.” Across YouTube, hundreds of Ukrainian artists have replaced the thumbnail image on their videos with a picture of the country’s flag, superimposed with the words: “While you are watching this video, Ukrainian people are dying from Russian attack. Stop it.” On Facebook, Svyatoslav Vakarchuk, frontman of the Ukrainian rock band Okean Elzy, is posting hourly updates about the conflict. In one video, he’s visiting wounded soldiers in hospital; in another he’s in a bullet-proof vest, making a speech on the streets of Kharkiv; in another, he’s delivering food and fuel to Kyiv in his car.

“I’m a well-known this person in this part of the world and I’m trying to use this position and do whatever I can,” he says.