On a cold morning in Amsterdam, Maizie Williams stood before the grave of her longtime bandmate, Bobby Farrell — the electrifying performer who brought unforgettable energy to Boney M. She laid a single white lily against the stone, her fingers tracing his name. For a moment, she closed her eyes and softly hummed “Rivers of Babylon,” the song that had carried them across the world. Memories of laughter, endless tours, and shared dreams filled the silence. “You’re still dancing, Bobby,” she whispered, her voice trembling — a reminder that some music never fades, and some friendships never end.

In the annals of pop music, few songs manage to be both wildly entertaining and rooted in real historical intrigue—but “Rasputin,” released by Boney M. in 1978, does exactly that. With its driving beat, theatrical vocals, and unforgettable chorus, the song became an international sensation, transforming a complex figure from Russian history into a disco-era folk legend. Bold, unconventional, and unmistakably catchy, “Rasputin” is more than just a dance track—it’s a cultural artifact of the late 1970s, where pop music dared to blur the lines between storytelling, myth, and rhythm.

Written and produced by Frank Farian, with lyrics co-written by Fred Jay, the song appears on Boney M.’s third studio album, Nightflight to Venus, a record that firmly established the group’s global appeal. At the time of its release, Boney M. was riding high on a wave of chart-topping success, with hits like “Rivers of Babylon” and “Ma Baker”. But “Rasputin” stood apart for its sheer audacity: a song that narrates the life—and scandalous legend—of Grigori Rasputin, the controversial Russian mystic and advisor to Tsar Nicholas II, delivered in the form of a thumping, dancefloor-ready anthem.

From the very first seconds, the song grabs hold with its pulsating bassline and infectious handclaps. The groove is unmistakably disco, but it’s infused with elements of Middle Eastern and Russian folk music, including a balalaika-like guitar riff and a driving rhythm that echoes traditional Slavic dances. This blending of styles gives the track a cinematic sweep, perfectly matching the melodrama of its subject.

Vocally, the lead is handled by Liz Mitchell, whose rich, commanding tone drives the melody forward. Interspersed with her lines is the booming voice of Frank Farian himself, delivering spoken interjections that amplify the song’s theatrical flair. The chorus—“Ra-Ra-Rasputin, lover of the Russian queen”—is as absurd as it is unforgettable, and yet within the humor lies a fascinating tension: the strange blend of historical reality and pop exaggeration.

Lyrically, the song paints Rasputin as a charismatic, dangerous figure—a man “so cool, no one could ever tame”—while also echoing the popular rumors and legends that surrounded his life and death. While scholars might bristle at the liberties taken with history, the song succeeds in capturing the mythic image of Rasputin that had long captivated the public imagination: equal parts healer, manipulator, seducer, and martyr.

Despite—or perhaps because of—its wild concept, “Rasputin” became a massive hit across Europe, topping the charts in Germany, Austria, and Australia, and reaching the Top 10 in the UK. It was banned in parts of the Soviet Union, where authorities took offense at its portrayal of one of Russia’s most infamous figures. Yet the song’s enduring popularity, especially in Eastern Europe and beyond, proves that music this bold and theatrical doesn’t fade easily.

Over time, “Rasputin” has seen a resurgence in popularity, especially with younger generations rediscovering it through social media platforms. Remixes, dance challenges, and even orchestral renditions have brought new life to the song, confirming its place not just as a novelty, but as a piece of pop storytelling that remains deeply entertaining—and surprisingly durable.

In the end, “Rasputin” is a reminder of what made Boney M. so unique: their fearless embrace of narrative, their genre-blending sound, and their ability to turn history into a disco epic. Beneath the glitter and drama lies a song that, like its subject, refuses to be forgotten.

Video