In a broadcast discussion about past music scenes, Viktor Drobysh spoke about his mixed feelings toward Natasha Koroleva during the 1980s. He recalled a period when the rock group St. Petersburg burst onto the stage with an energized performance of Yellow Tulips, a moment he associated with a strong wave of youth culture and shifting taste in that era. Drobysh shared that he and his colleagues held reservations about the star, a sentiment that reflected the competitive atmosphere among pop acts at the time. He also mentioned Natalia Gulkina, formerly a soloist with Mirage, as someone he felt conflicted about, offering a glimpse into the high-stakes dynamics that shaped decisions in the music industry then. He explained why Klava Koka’s rendition of Don’t Call Me Bunny drew his attention more than Queen’s track, revealing his preference for a different vocal color and stage presentation in that lineup of performers.
In another moment from the same conversation, Drobysh expressed a broader musical influence that shaped his listening and judging criteria. He described a journey that took him to Finland, noting how Natalie Imbruglia and Jennifer Page were among the acts he encountered there. He drew a parallel between Klava Koka and these international voices, highlighting a shared quality in how Scandinavian and British pop-rock artists often voiced similar textures. This reflection helped him articulate a view that Scandinavian pop-rock represented the ideal standard for him, shaping his view on how to evaluate contemporary performances. He even posed a question to himself about the allure of the “Yellow Tulips” style, signaling a moment of professional introspection about taste and trends in pop music during that period.
During a later discussion, Drobysh commented on a recent comparison involving Mia Boyka and Shura. He offered praise for the younger artist while simultaneously drawing a sharp contrast, likening the latter to something as unexpected as an Ikea chandelier in terms of stage presence or stylistic delivery. He also addressed a difficult family moment, mentioning that a father of another singer directed harsh words toward him. In response, Drobysh symbolically referenced a lampshade from Ob, using the image to capture the tension and the sometimes theatrical nature of public commentary within the music industry. This anecdote illustrates how personal and professional exchanges could intersect in ways that affected perception and reputations among emerging talents and established figures alike.
There is a broader context to these remarks. Over the years, Viktor Drobysh has undergone professional changes that reflect shifts in the music business, including decisions about affiliations and production roles. Not long before these reflections, he left a production company, a move that many industry observers interpreted through the lens of regulatory or financial developments. The entire episode underscores how leadership transitions, creative direction, and regulatory environments can influence the careers of producers and the artists they work with. The narrative captured here provides a window into the evolving dynamics of pop music during a transformative era, showing how personal opinions, creative judgments, and industry moves intertwined to shape what audiences heard on stage and on record. The story also highlights how memory and interpretation can color the portrayal of past events, inviting readers to consider how influential producers recall their experiences and how those recollections align with or diverge from public narratives.