Honestly, if you've been on TikTok or played Just Dance at any point in the last few years, you’ve had that aggressive balalaika riff stuck in your head. It’s unavoidable. The track is Boney M. - Rasputin lyrics, and while it’s a certified disco banger, the actual story behind those words is a chaotic mess of historical fact, tabloid gossip, and straight-up fiction.
People belt out "Russia’s greatest love machine" at weddings without realizing they’re singing about a Siberian peasant who helped bring down a 300-year-old dynasty. Or that the guy dancing on stage wasn't even the one singing.
The Lyrics vs. The Real "Mad Monk"
Let’s look at the first verse. It sets the scene: "He was big and strong, in his eyes a flaming glow." This part? Actually pretty accurate. Grigori Rasputin was about 1.93m (6'3"), which made him a giant in early 20th-century Russia. Contemporaries, including noblewomen and skeptical officials, frequently wrote about his "hypnotic" stare.
But then we hit the chorus: "Ra-ra-Rasputin, lover of the Russian queen."
Stop right there. Historians are basically unanimous on this: there is zero evidence Rasputin and Tsarina Alexandra were lovers. Alexandra was notoriously prudish, deeply religious, and obsessed with her husband, Tsar Nicholas II. She let Rasputin into the inner circle for one reason: her son, Alexei, had hemophilia.
The lyrics mention this too: "She believed he was a holy healer who would heal her son." That’s the real crux of the power dynamic. When the boy bled, Rasputin would pray, and the bleeding would stop. Modern doctors think he might have just told the imperial physicians to stop giving the kid aspirin—which, ironically, we now know is a blood thinner.
So, he wasn't a "love machine" for the Queen, but he definitely had a reputation with the "Moscow chicks." He was known for frequenting bathhouses and having... let's call them "intense" religious sessions with aristocratic women that often ended in scandal.
Who Actually Wrote This?
The "Boney M. - Rasputin lyrics" weren't penned by the four people you see in those sparkly outfits. The mastermind was Frank Farian, a German producer who basically invented the group. He wrote the track with George Reyam and Fred Jay.
Here is the kicker: Bobby Farrell, the iconic dancer with the beard and the wild moves, didn't sing a single note on the studio recording of Rasputin.
Those deep, gravelly vocals? That was Farian himself. Farrell was essentially a high-energy "hype man" and dancer who lip-synced the part. It’s kind of wild when you think about it—the face of the song isn't the voice, and the "history" in the song is half-rumor.
Why It Was Banned in the USSR
You’d think a song about a Russian figure would be a hit in Russia, right? Well, it was—clandestinely.
When Boney M. toured the Soviet Union in 1978, they were the first Western group to perform at Red Square. But the authorities were terrified of the song. They banned it from the setlist. The Soviet government didn't like the depiction of the Tsar's era, even if it was mocking it.
The drama peaked in August 1979 at the Sopot International Song Festival in Poland. The band was told: "Do not play Rasputin." Bobby Farrell waited until the end, leaned into the mic, and shouted, "And now we're going to sing a song that is banned in this country!"
They played it. The crowd went nuts. The TV broadcast cut the performance entirely the next day, but the radio had already broadcast it live to millions across the Eastern Bloc. It became a symbol of rebellion.
The Assassination: "They Shot Him 'Til He Was Dead"
The final verse covers the murder of Rasputin in December 1916.
"They put some poison into his wine... He drank it all and he said 'I feel fine' ... They didn't quit, they wanted his head ... And so they shot him 'til he was dead."
This is based on the memoirs of Prince Felix Yusupov, one of the assassins. Yusupov claimed he gave Rasputin cakes and wine laced with enough cyanide to kill a horse, and the monk just asked for more. Then he shot him, but Rasputin got up and tried to strangle him.
Historians today are skeptical. The autopsy found no evidence of poison in Rasputin's stomach. It’s likely Yusupov exaggerated the "superhuman" nature of the monk to make himself look like a hero who had vanquished a demon, rather than just a guy who murdered a peasant in a basement.
Why We Are Still Obsessed in 2026
The track shouldn't work. It’s a 1970s disco song about a 1910s Russian mystic, featuring a Turkish folk melody (from the song Kâtibim) and a German producer singing like a Russian bass.
But it does.
In 2021, the song exploded on TikTok because of a "flex" challenge. By 2026, it has stayed relevant through countless remixes, including the Majestic x Boney M. version which brought it back to the UK and US charts.
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There's also that weird internet obsession with the name "Rasputin" rhyming with "Putin." Memes aside, the two have no relation, though Vladimir Putin's grandfather, Spiridon, actually worked as a chef at the Hotel Astoria and allegedly served the real Rasputin once. Small world.
Fact-Checking the Big Lines
To keep things simple, here is a quick breakdown of what's real in the lyrics:
- "He ruled the Russian land and never mind the Czar" - Partially true. While Nicholas was away at the front during WWI, Rasputin had massive influence over ministerial appointments through Alexandra.
- "But the Kasatschok he danced really wunderbar" - True. He was known for dancing for hours in a trance-like state during his "sessions."
- "For the queen he was no wheeler dealer" - False. He was absolutely a wheeler-dealer, using his position to help friends dodge the draft or get jobs.
- "Oh, those Russians" - This spoken line at the end wasn't even in the original draft; it was an ad-lib by Farian that became iconic.
If you want to dive deeper into the real history, check out Douglas Smith’s biography Rasputin: Faith, Power, and the Twilight of the Romanovs. It’s a massive book, but it clears up the "love machine" myths while confirming that the reality was actually much weirder than the disco song.
Next time you hear it, remember: you're listening to a German man's voice, coming out of a Dutch-Aruban dancer's mouth, singing about a Siberian mystic's fake love affair.
Actionable Insights for Fans and Creators:
- Music Producers: Notice the "balalaika" hook. It's actually a guitar with a specific EQ setting. Using ethnic instruments in a 4/4 disco beat is a proven way to make a "sticky" global hit.
- History Buffs: Use the song as a mnemonic for the 1916 assassination, but remember to correct the "lover of the queen" part—it’s the most common error in Russian history trivia.
- Content Creators: The "Rasputin" trend proves that "catalog" music (old hits) has more viral potential than new releases if there's a rhythmic "drop" people can time their movements to.