A Russian court recently delivered a harsh verdict, jailing three members of a beloved street band for performing songs that openly criticized the war and the Kremlin. This move highlights Moscow’s relentless suppression of any public dissent against its ongoing invasion of Ukraine.
The St. Petersburg district court handed down 13-day administrative detentions to Diana Loginova, known as Naoko, Stoptime’s lead singer, and Vladislav Leontyev, the drummer. Aleksandr Orlov, the guitarist, received a 12-day sentence. Their alleged crime? Organizing a concert that supposedly blocked pedestrian access near a subway station.
The band members, arrested on Wednesday, vehemently denied the charges, emphasizing that no complaints had been filed regarding any obstruction caused by their performance.
Image: Diana Loginova, the lead singer, at her court hearing in St. Petersburg.
Further complicating matters, court records reveal an additional charge against 18-year-old Ms. Loginova for allegedly ‘discrediting the Russian Army.’ A conviction could lead to a significant fine.
Image: Vladislav Leontyev, the band’s drummer, appearing in court.
Image: Guitarist Aleksandr Orlov, who received a 12-day detention sentence.
Despite the arrests, Stoptime’s Telegram channel saw a massive surge in popularity this week, growing from 11,000 to 37,000 subscribers. In their final public message on the app, the band announced a suspension of all future performances and declined further comment on the situation.
For many residents of St. Petersburg, Russia’s second-largest city, the band’s arrest felt like an inevitable outcome. Russian authorities have systematically silenced open opposition, making such arrests a common threat.
Remarkably, for months, Stoptime had openly performed songs famously linked with the anti-Kremlin and anti-war movements.
At their final concert on Monday before the detentions, approximately 100 people gathered on a bustling pedestrian street, singing loudly along with the band. Many in the crowd were loyal fans from the band’s Telegram channel, where performance details were shared just hours before.
Seventeen-year-old Innokentiy Molchanov, a regular attendee, acknowledged the risk: ‘They are taking a dangerous stand. But they are crucial because someone needs to speak the truth.’
During their performances, the band openly displayed a QR code and bank account information for donations, taped to their synthesizer. A young man also moved through the crowd, collecting cash in a pink hat. The predominantly young audience often recognized each other, forming a tight-knit community of supporters.
Nineteen-year-old Nataliya, a kindergarten worker, who chose not to reveal her last name due to fears of government reprisal, stated, ‘I’ve attended almost every concert.’
She further explained, ‘Here, people who cannot express their views openly find warmth and support, a feeling you won’t encounter anywhere else.’
Stoptime’s setlist featured tracks by prominent anti-war musicians forced into exile for their public opposition to the Kremlin. For instance, a song by Noize MC, an exiled Russian rapper critical of the Kremlin, subtly critiqued President Vladimir V. Putin’s alleged corruption and mocked state propaganda justifying the Ukraine invasion. This particular song was later banned as extremist by a Russian court in May.
Additionally, they performed a track by the Russian punk band Pornofilmy, which famously includes the lyric ‘Uncle Volodya, tighten up our screws,’ a thinly veiled reference to President Putin (Volodya being a common diminutive of Vladimir).
The setlist also featured songs by Monetochka and Zemfira, two incredibly popular Russian singers who, after speaking out against the war, were labeled ‘foreign agents’ and fled the country.
For a considerable period, Stoptime’s concerts largely flew under the radar. They were just one of many street ensembles gracing the major squares and intersections of St. Petersburg’s main avenue, Nevskiy Prospekt, nightly.
However, as videos of their performances spread online, the band caught the unwanted attention of Russia’s pro-war nationalist factions. In late August, police briefly detained the members for violating noise ordinances, releasing them after a few hours.
This autumn, as their fan base swelled, so did their troubles. Conservative pundits publicly condemned their acts and explicitly demanded their arrest.
“They’re just bouncing around, enjoying the catchy tunes and easy rhymes,” wrote Marina Akhmedova, a pro-Kremlin journalist and activist, in a Monday Telegram post. “That’s all there is to it. They believe they’re being rebellious, protesting against the ‘big man’ right in the heart of St. Petersburg.”