Stoptime drew the ire of the Russian regime – set in Sweden

When guitarist Aleksandr “Sasja” Orlov strikes the first chords of Noize MC’s song “Swan Lake Cooperative,” St. Petersburg’s busy main street, Nevsky Prospekt, vibrates. That same year, the song was banned by a Russian court as “extremist” – and the performance ends with the band members being arrested by police in front of hundreds of young audience members who jump up and sing along to the chorus:

Where have you been for eight years, you damn beasts? / I want to see ballet, watch the swans dance. / May the uncle tremble in fear of his cooperative “Zero” / Away from the screen with Solovyov – let the swans dance…

For many young people in Russia, Stoptime’s music became a community lifeline.

– Our performances were a way to unite people, says singer Diana Loginova, known by the stage name Naoko.

In Noize MC’s song, anger is directed against years of indifference to wartime violence in Ukraine and against the core of Putin’s circle. When Stoptime lets the choir’s “Let the swans dance” echo between the building facades, the street concert becomes more than a performance – it becomes a real-time crime case in which every line can be interpreted as a threat to the state. A reference to the ballet “Swan Lake,” which was often shown on television during political crises during Soviet times, and to the idea that the regime might one day fall.

For Stoptime, busking is not about political activism, but about breaking the isolation in which many young people live.

– People with the same interests gathered. “It was important to see each other’s faces and understand that not everything is hopeless,” says Diana Loginova.

Many of the artists who interpret them – including Noize MC and Monetochka, who DN has previously interviewed – are labeled “foreign agents” and are rarely heard in public.

– Everyone was very happy, everyone sang along. They hadn’t heard these songs in public for a very long time, only through headphones and online.

Diana Loginova describes how music penetrates the bubble in which young Russians live isolated from the outside world. Seeing that the band was actually risking their freedom, they began to think about the war in Ukraine, which they had long tried to put aside.

– People had begun to close themselves off and avoid what was happening. Living in a state of bondage is very difficult.

It is not formally forbidden to perform all songs by artists considered “foreign agents” in Russia. But the “Swan Lake Cooperative” in particular was banned in court, and Stoptime is quickly condemned for, among other things, “organizing a mass meeting” and “petty hooliganism.”

In the fall of 2025, the trio was arrested three times because of their street concerts with anti-war songs and spent a total of 39 days in administrative detention.

The trial was an attempt to set an example, a public punishment, a deterrent, explains Diana Loginova.

– After the arrest, they made an example of us. Many began to believe that all songs were banned. The fear arose because of the way everything was presented.

The prison tours are characterized by interrogations and isolation.

– When I sang, I knew that Sasja heard me through the wall. It was our way of staying in touch when we weren’t allowed to talk.

Still, the band finds ways to hold on to something human. During a transport to the prison, Sasja proposes marriage – with a ring folded from a napkin and hidden in an empty cigarette case. In court on October 29th, Diana says yes.

After his third short prison sentence in a row, it is clear that it is no longer safe for Stoptime to remain in Russia.

According to Diana Loginova, after the arrests she was repeatedly called in for talks with Russian security agencies, including Center E, the police’s special anti-extremism unit.

– I knew there was no limit to how long they could go on like this.

Today Stoptime lives in exile in Lithuania and has shared the stage precisely with Noize MC and Monetochka, whose songs once ensured that their street concerts ended up in court.

For Stoptime, music becomes a temporary free zone where young Russians can reflect on each other – and discover that they are not alone, despite increasing oppression in the country.

– Then I sang for those left behind when I was in Russia myself. Now I sing as an emigrant for emigrants. But the feeling of unity is the same, says Diana Loginova.

The band’s Telegram channel has grown from a few hundred followers to tens of thousands.

– I don’t feel like a symbol. But I am glad that I united people and gave them hope. I’m proud that people sang with me. It’s the only thing that warms my soul.

Before the performance in Stockholm, Diana Loginova says that what she misses most about Russia is her grandmother and her aunt. Some of the songs help her feel closer to them.