Viktor Rybin, the lead figure of the Russian band Dune, spoke about a time when success did not shield artists from hardship. Even as the group built a growing following, the financial side remained precarious. He and his wife Natalya faced days when the money flowed barely enough to cover essentials. The music life they chased—the concerts, the tours, the studio hours—stood in sharp contrast with the day-to-day demands of family life. The couple learned to adapt quickly, taking on roles outside the stage to keep their home life intact while continuing to pursue the music that connected with fans across Russia and beyond. It was a period of trial, sacrifice, and stubborn belief in a future that would eventually brighten.
Those early years were defined by improvisation. Rybin described how, to buy basic necessities, he and Natalya would go to the market with a small plan that relied on handing out bottles to passersby to raise funds for fuel and other staples. It was during a stretch from 1990 to 1993, a turbulent era for the country and for the music industry, when the couple pressed on despite the strain. Popularity did not automatically translate into reliable income. Performances brought some payment, but a large portion vanished in the process: money paid to fellow musicians who joined the tours, funds used to rent equipment, and the never-ending travel expenses that returned the couple to their starting point. The days were long, the expectations high, and the margins razor-thin, yet the drive to keep creating kept them moving forward.
Breakthroughs arrived slowly. By 1993 a new venue appeared in Moscow—Metelitsa—where the weather of their career began to shift. The club started paying musicians more reliably, and occasionally in dollars rather than rubles, a practical reflection of the changing economy. The shift did not erase the band’s challenges, but it did ease the pressure and offered a clearer path to sustaining their art. With the improved financial footing, the music could take the lead again, and the group could invest more in recording, touring, and the logistics of keeping a growing roster of collaborators on the road. The moment marked a turning point that helped the group transform from a rising act into a stable presence on the scene.
The relationship behind the music also marks a long chapter in Dune’s story. Natalya Senchukova and Viktor Rybin have shared more than three decades together, having met in 1990 and remaining inseparable through countless gigs and changes in the industry. Their partnership extended into family life, with a son named Vasily growing up in the orbit of the band’s work. In 2022 Vasily married his beloved Daria Alyabyeva, sealing a personal milestone that mirrored the crew’s professional evolution. The couple’s life together embodies the mix of resilience, creativity, and loyalty that has driven Dune from its early, stormy days to a position of lasting influence in the Russian music landscape. The shared journey adds a human beat to the band’s signature sound, making the story as much about people as about tunes.
Memory often highlights the wild, unguarded energy of the live shows from that era. Rybin has recalled a moment from the mid-1990s when a post-concert moment near VDNKh took a surprising turn. After one performance, fans pulled at his pants in a display that underscored the fearless, unfiltered rapport between performers and audiences that defined the time. The incident, while embarrassing in the moment, became part of the lore surrounding the band and a symbol of the raw, unpolished thrill of the live scene at the time. It stands as a reminder of how the audience’s electricity could spill out of the venue and shape the band’s memory in lasting, if humorous, ways.
Even as stories of hardship and humor circulate, Dune’s impact on audiences outside the concert hall persisted. The band later noted that European football players chose to incorporate their song Greetings from the Great Hangover into celebrations, a gesture that signaled the music’s reach beyond clubs and radio. That crossover moment highlighted how a pop-rock act from Russia could touch different corners of popular culture, carrying its energy into sports arenas and everyday moments. The memory captures the broader arc of the group’s career: music that traveled across borders, resonating with people from city stages to stadiums, and becoming a soundtrack for moments large and small alike.