Two of Bulgaria’s most iconic names in pop music – Vasil Naydenov, the voice behind some of the most beloved hits of the late 20th century, and Stefan Dimitrov, the composer responsible for many of those very same songs – are now at the heart of a very public and very bitter dispute. What once was a musical alliance and a 40-year-long friendship has collapsed in scandal, shame, and notarized threats.
The scandal ignited after Vasil Naydenov performed a song titled „Tam na Zavoya“ (“At the Bend”) in a new duet with the Argirov Brothers. The song, composed by Stefan Dimitrov more than two decades ago, was part of a stage project and, according to the composer, never meant to be repurposed, let alone claimed by Naydenov as his own. Dimitrov accused Naydenov of not only performing the piece without proper authorization but also of falsely presenting it as his original creation.
In response, Stefan Dimitrov took an unprecedented step: he sent a notarized letter to Naydenov, demanding that he stop performing his compositions altogether. “I don’t want to hear my music sung by him ever again,” Dimitrov declared in several interviews. What followed wasn’t silence, but uproar.
Vasil Naydenov, widely considered one of the golden voices of Bulgaria, dismissed the letter as legally meaningless and denied any wrongdoing. According to him, the friendship had always included musical collaboration without detailed contracts or payment discussions – and he had earned the right to sing the songs through their shared history and mutual trust.
But the court of public opinion has already passed judgment – and it’s brutal.
Thousands of Bulgarians took to social media to comment, criticize, and, in many cases, express profound disappointment. Comments flooded in under news posts, many of them harsh and emotional. Some called Naydenov “ungrateful” and “arrogant,” accusing him of profiting for decades off Dimitrov’s creative work without proper credit or compensation. Others blamed Dimitrov for waiting so long to raise the issue and questioned his motives: “Why now, after all these years?” “Would he have reacted the same if the duet didn’t include the Argirovs?” one commenter asked sarcastically.
And then there’s the third group – the disappointed majority. These are the fans who grew up with their music, who filled stadiums and danced to these songs at weddings and family gatherings. Their reaction was sharp: “They’re acting like bitter old men,” “This is not how legends behave,” and perhaps most cuttingly, “We’ll remember them for the scandal, not the songs.”
What makes the situation even sadder is the backdrop: these two men, often seen as pillars of Bulgarian pop culture, have now exposed a darker truth about show business – that even legends are not immune to ego, pride, and petty revenge.
Ironically, while both artists fought for legacy and control over a song, they’ve already lost something far more important – their dignity in the eyes of the public.
In a country that still treasures its golden age of music, this scandal has tainted a part of that history. As one fan poignantly wrote, “The songs made them great, but the scandal made them small.”
Whether the dispute ends in court or in reconciliation, one thing is certain: the applause has stopped, and all that remains is a sour note lingering in the air.
