Have You Heard?
- SMS USYD
- Oct 8
- 6 min read
By Elizabeth Petrova and Kanoie Holland
Have you heard “Skibidi” by Little Big (not related to Gen Alpha ‘Skibidi’), that TikTok sound “КАМИН”, or maybe even “Fairytale” by Alexander Rybak? Chances are you have, but here’s the twist: they’re all from Eastern Europe. Behind the beats is a fascinating story of how music travels through clever marketing that helps local tracks jump from nostalgia-filled ads at home to TikTok virality and Eurovision stages abroad.
Ok - Confession Time, how many of us are music lovers? It feels like from a young age our parents and teachers would try to pigeon hole us into being readers (this is ironic given I'm not only an avid reader but I also love writing) - words tell stories and all that…but so does music. We’ve all been asked whether we notice the lyrics or the melody first. The truth is, when a good track hits, we zone out and make it the theme song of our commute. It’s an adventure delivered through our ear drums, but rarely do we consider how that track got to us in the first place.
This is particularly true for Eastern European music where a lot of the time songs popularised in the West are in English - not because they’re translated but because that used to be the style! In fact in the beginning this was a deliberate strategy to make Eastern European artists seem more accessible and mainstream to international audiences. The 2000s were not only a time when Western artists like Rihanna, Lady Gaga and Keisha grew their platforms but also when Eastern European musicians found mainstream success through avenues like Eurovision. Moldova’s ‘Run Away’ (just search up ‘Epic Sax Guy’ - you’ll know it), Ukrainian artist’s Verka Serduchka’s ‘Dancing Lasha Tumbai’ - a song made up of German, English, Ukrainian and pure Jibberish - and, of course, Little Big’s ‘UNO’ were some of the biggest Eastern European hits that made it globally.
An interesting trend during the early 90s and 2000s was having two versions of a song; one in the native language and the other in English. Whilst there was little change in lyrical content and meaning between the two, it was the English version that, more often than not, was performed on the global stage. Artists like Belarussian Alexander Rybak (song ‘Fairytale’), Russian Sergey Lazarev (song ‘You Are the Only One’) and Karachay-Cherkessian born Dima Bilan (song ‘Believe’) all sang the English version of their song to reach a wider international audience. They capitalised on English’s status as the ‘global language’ to appeal to an international market and sell themselves as ‘global’.
Of course, it’s not to say that these Eastern European stars weren’t popular domestically as more often than not their rise on the global stage brought with it a larger fan base back home. In fact, as many of these artists became popular in the 90s and 2000s, they are now experiencing renewed popularity through the Nostalgia Cycle. Nostalgia Cycle is the marketing trend where every couple of decades a popular craze comes back, usually due to the generation that grew up on it becoming adults and repopularising it. Brands like Ozon, known as the “Amazon of Russia” also utilised artists popular in the 2000s coupled with Contrafactum techniques to insight nostalgia. Contrafactum is when a musical composition reuses the melody of a previous work but changes the text to suit a new meaning or purposes. For example, in one ad Ozon showed singer Polina Gagarina shopping under the, lyrically rewritten, song ‘Плохо танцевать’ (Dance Badly) by Iowa, whilst in another actress Marina Kravets delivers packages under the melody of ‘Звенит январская вьюга’ (The January Blizzard is Ringing) from a popular New Years movie. Here brands, like Ozon, want buyers to associate their brands with positive feelings that arise when hearing beloved songs to insight loyalty, put plainly - its nostalgia marketing.
Yes, like many Western artists, many Eastern European artists - like Kazakh vocal master Dimash Qudaibergen, Lolita Milyavskaya - Eastern European Adele and, the last romantic, Georgian Valery Meladze - have remained consistently demanded. However, where the Nostalgia Cycle, particularly in music, has changed in the last half decade - is the speed and size at which someone can become trendy or even gain a cult following. Predominantly the rise of Tik Tok and Instagram Reels means that Nostalgia Cycling no longer just means 5-minutes of fame or an added margin of revenue for business - it now has the power to revive careers.
Artists like Elka, Quest Pistols Show, Nadezhda Kadysheva, O-Zone, Miyagi & Andy Panda, and Carla’s Dreams are just of the many who re-surged in the aftermath of algorithm-fueled liking, sharing and following. But these algorithms are not only for remembering - they’re also for discovering new music. Perhaps the best example I can give is one I’m sure many of us, particularly those with younger siblings, know - ‘Sigma Boy’. The Russian version of this Gen-Alpha hit, created by siblings Betsy and Maria (Masha) Yankovskaya, has almost 180 million views on youtube, used 200k times on Instagram and I’ve deleted Tiktok so I don’t know how many reposts (but one video did get almost 60 million views!).
There are three main categories of Eastern European songs that appear on TikTok: Melancholic, Ethno-Fusion, and Alt-Pop (often called “TikTok-core”). Melancholic tracks, such as ‘Судно’ (Vessel) by Molchat Doma, ‘Камин’ (Fireplace) by EMIN feat. JONY, and ‘В последний раз’ (For the Last Time) by Vesyolye Rebyata, carry a ballad-like or grungy feel and are often used in TikToks and Reels to evoke nostalgia or melancholy, usually gaining traction as background music rather than as standalone hits. Ethno-Fusion songs work differently, serving as the main focus of videos and bringing recognition directly to the artist rather than just the content creator. Bands from smaller ethnic groups, such as Otyken (a Siberian Indigenous band), use TikTok not only to market themselves but also to spotlight their cultures. A famous example of this is Ay Yola’s song ‘Homay’, which celebrates her ancestral memory and Bashkiri culture. Finally, Alt-Pop songs, like ‘Sigma Boy,’ are characterised by catchy, EDM-like beats that help them spread quickly through TikTok’s algorithm, with other notable examples including ‘Моя голова винтом’ (My Head Is Spinning Like a Screw) by Kostromin, ‘Отключаю телефон’ (I Turn Off My Phone) by Instasamka, and Uzbek-born Rakhim Abramov’s tracks ‘Plan B’ (accompanied by Kazakh-The Limba) and ‘Fendi.’
But about EDM! Have you ever scrolled past and heard a gritty, bass-heavy track on TikTok, your thumb pausing for just a second, and felt instantly hooked? That’s drift phonk. Originating from the streets of Russia in the 2010s, this genre blends the raw energy of Memphis rap with hypnotic, lo-fi beats and echoing cowbells. What started as 15-second TikTok snippets or YouTube edits for car drift videos has seen these hypnotic rhythms and detuned melodies spread further than social media and onto global stages.
With lead media labels signing individuals that promulgated this genre, these signees have since accrued billions of streams and have become instrumental in drift phonk’s proliferation. Breaking onto festival stages across Europe; from Serbia’s EXIT Festival to Hungary’s Sziget, eventually going beyond borders to hit the stage at Belgium’s Tomorrowland and other festivals across the US, UK, and Brazil. Artists like Kordhell, a British drift phonk producer, and São Paulo’s Mc Gw specifically have been fundamental in moving this Russian/Eastern European genre into the spotlight of global attention. Their success has gone beyond festivals, with phonk-exclusive tours pulling international crowds and their embrace of the genre even inspiring the Fast & Furious 10 soundtrack which has aided in cementing drift phonk’s place in global music history.
The journey of Eastern European music is ultimately mesmerising. A track goes viral online, DJs discover it, remix it, and before you know it, thousands are dancing under neon lights, collectively feeling the intensity and rebellious spirit that defined its origins. Drift Phonk goes beyond music. With its pounding basslines, relentless BPM, and distorted hip-hop samples, it creates an aura of adrenaline, power, and edge that pulls listeners in, with an intensity that spills into clubs, raves, and festivals. This is transforming scattered listeners into a unified crowd moving to the same beat…in a way becoming a shared cultural experience - a bridge between digital virality and real-world community.
Much of this Eastern European rave culture and festivals has served as spaces for younger generations to reclaim their freedom and self-expressions. Uzbekistan’s Stihia Festival, for example, held on the dried bed of the Aral Sea, raises awareness of environmental destruction through immersive music experiences. For brands it’s a sign to stop chasing trends and invest in the communities and movements driving the sound. Support underground creators, amplify their stories, and co-create experiences without stripping away their edge. Brands that do this are able to create that human connection with their audiences that earns them credibility, emotional resonance, and a place within the culture itself.
As we look at how the pulse of Eastern European music has pumped its way through the region and across borders to introduce new sounds of life, it is nothing short of captivating. When we look behind the stage, it becomes apparent how marketing is the real lifeline behind how this music travels, with thoughtful marketing ultimately carrying it across borders. So whether you’ve heard it before or not, now you can see how a beat, a movement, and a marketing strategy together can turn a local sound into a global phenomenon.
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