stories

For money, yes A collab between rock legend Sergey Shnurov and Gen Z rapper Instasamka reveals the cringeworthy state of Russian music

Source: Meduza

There’s a new collaborative album on Russian airwaves right now — and it’s a bit of a head-scratcher. On one side is 51-year-old Sergey Shnurov, frontman of the ultra-popular ska-punk band Leningrad and a fixture of the Russian music scene for decades. On the other is Instasamka, a brash Gen Z rapper who rose to fame by mastering the attention economy on Instagram in the vein of Cardi B. How the two artists decided to team up is anybody’s guess, but the result — titled Boomers and Zoomers — says a lot about the current state of the Russian music industry. Meduza breaks down the recent evolution of these musicians’ careers, their shifting relationships to the authorities, and why this strange collaboration makes some sense.

The Russian band Leningrad, a product of Russia’s “wild 90s,” has been a mainstay in the country’s music scene for most of the 21st century. Formed in 1997 by frontman Sergey Shnurov, the band has had an ever-rotating lineup of between eight and 16 members. Known for its over-the-top, brass-heavy sound and ironic, often vulgar lyrics, Leningrad has built its reputation with songs that satirize modern Russian culture and society. It’s also one of the few Russian-language bands whose influence has stretched beyond the Russian-speaking world: its music has been featured in films like Everything Is Illuminated and What We Do In The Shadows, and in 2020, it was set to be the first Russian-language group to play at Coachella (though the festival was cancelled due to the pandemic).

Then there’s Instasamka (real name Darya Zoteyeva) — a 24-year-old Russian singer, rapper, and TikTok star who began her career as an Instagram blogger before transitioning to music. Even during a stint in Dubai, Instasamka has stayed in the Russian headlines in part by courting controversy, adopting a larger-than-life persona in her music videos and rapping unapologetically about her wealth and fame.

In the 2010s, Leningrad’s popularity was fueled by a rotating cast of female vocalists, including Alisa Voks-Burmistrova and Florida Chanturia. However, Shnurov’s new duet with Instasamka is something different. Following the disbandment of the old Leningrad lineup, both the band and its frontman are decidedly passé. In 2024, Shnurov is trying to regain his former popularity, while Instasamka has no such need — she’s already commercially successful on her own and has no intention of becoming Leningrad’s permanent vocalist.

The result is that Instasamka is undoubtedly the main star of this odd collaboration. The reactions to it from their respective fanbases have been telling: Instasamka’s Zoomer followers on Instagram left comments like, “Grandpa forgot to take his pills,” while many Leningrad fans on YouTube didn’t recognize the Gen Z-er but nonetheless praised her for “carrying the whole song.”

From rock satirist to establishment figure

Throughout the 2010s, Leningrad released tracks poking fun at Russia’s consumer-driven society, which Shnurov viewed as being driven by the whims of women. Meanwhile, the band continued to dabble in light political satire: their 2014 album Plyazh — Nash ("The Beach is Ours," a reference to the phrase “Crimea is Ours”) and the song "Patriotka" were seen as mocking the so-called “Crimean consensus.”

After Leningrad disbanded in 2019 (for the second time), Shnurov reinvented himself: he became a member of the public council under the State Duma’s Culture Committee, a general producer for the Russian broadcaster RTVI, and a member of the Kremlin-friendly, pro-business Party of Growth. While he’d never been an opponent of the Putin government, his new persona was a stark contrast to the ironic rock star image he’d spent two decades cultivating. In the years that followed, his transformation continued. In 2022, Leningrad released a track about the “decaying West,” a reverent song about a Russian drone, and a tribute to the state-owned defense corporation Rostech. He also allegedly recorded an ode to Wagner Group founder Yevgeny Prigozhin, which was found by investigators in the aftermath of the 2023 Wagner mutiny.

‘Mommy’

Instasamka first rose to prominence in the late 2010s as an Instagram influencer. Calling herself “Mommy,” she raps about expensive brands, plastic surgeries, and a lavish lifestyle — flaunting things that many Russians could never afford. Her track “Za dengi da” (“For Money, Yes”) opens with, “I just do what I want / If I want implants, I call the doctor.”

In April 2022, two months after Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine, Instasamka moved to Dubai, announcing she would no longer perform in Russia “for many reasons.” Later that year, though, she released her album Popstar and announced a 2023 tour in Russia.

Soon after, however, Instasamka caught the attention of censorship activist Yekaterina Mizulina, who helps the Russian government intimidate Russian artists under the guise of protecting “family values.” Mizulina accused Instasamka of corrupting children through her concerts, prompting the artist to promise she would refrain from using profanity and abandon her “old style.” Despite this promise, Russian officials still disrupted the tour, and Instasamka and her producer were forced to pose for a photo with Mizulina. The picture appeared on Mizulina’s Telegram channel on May 29, 2023, along with a claim that Instasamka planned to delete all tracks containing “dangerous information.” (Instasamka still performed at a July 2023 music festival organized by Russian social media site VKontakte in St. Petersburg and Moscow.)

Now, in an apparent effort to broaden her appeal and find a “new style,” Instasamka has teamed up with a populist ska rocker 27 years her elder. 

Boomers and zoomers

Sergey Shnurov and Instasamka’s mini-album Boomers and Zoomers, released in early November 2024, has no trace of irony. The main message of Instasamka’s lyrics can be boiled down to a simple formula: “I’m rich because you listen to songs about how rich I am.” Shnurov goes along with her persona, calling her “Mommy,” but his awkward delivery makes it seem more like a parody of hip-hop than the real thing — except it’s not funny but cringeworthy. Musically, many of the tracks aren’t bad: “Khorosho” and “I Love You” incorporate 1990s–2000s EDM elements, while “Imba” and “Russkiye Vpered” feature 2010s trap beats. But whenever Shnurov comes in, it stops working.

Shnurov’s only strong moment comes in “Za dengi net” (“Not even for money”) where rudimentary synth-pop meets Leningrad’s signature jazzy brass. In the track, Shnurov mocks Instasamka, evidently hoping to seem relatable by lobbing insults (“I saw her mug / Even for money, no”). Instasamka holds her own, firing back in Shnurov’s typical style: “A dick’s a very complex thing / Maybe even more so than a clarinet.” But Shnurov’s boomeresque lines coming out of Instasamka’s mouth — including one referencing a mid-2000s TV show — feel as out of touch as his attempt at Gen Z-style rap.

Amid this charade, Instasamka occasionally breaks character. In “Russkiye Vpered” (“Russians Ahead”), she declares, “The tax office knows Mommy is legit,” a reference to a recent slew of tax evasion cases against Russian bloggers (but not her).

Shnurov avoids any overtly political themes for most of the album. However, in the closing track, “Rock,” he suddenly proclaims Instasamka “the queen of smashing it” (“I’ve gotten old, but the rockstar here is her”) and concludes: “Why spit it out if you’ve swallowed it? Why blame the fucking mirror?” What is this, if not a nod to the downfall of the Russian music industry, which has given in to Russia’s wartime censorship? Another common thread in the work of both artists is compromise, embodied in Instasamka’s “Za dengi da” — essentially, everything has its price. And here, Instasamka wins again: unlike Shnurov, at least she’s honest.