In the 2000s, a number of Russian pop stars tried their hardest to crack the world. By now, the only act that is considered to have done it successfully is t. A. T. u., which to me has much more to do with their unheard of lesbian image (that was completely manufactured by Ivan Shapovalov, their producer). You can't deny, however, that their music didn't have a unique style to it. 200 km/h The Wrong Lane definitely has a unique feel, and two subsequent albums evolve that particular vibe.
They weren't the only act of the time to try to "go West", though. When Alsou came second on Eurovision Song Contest 2000, it caused quite a splash, and there were plans of an English-language album with Enrique Iglesias that didn't quite go anywhere. Dima Bilan tried to build an English-language career for himself as well, which fizzled out quickly. Sergey Lazarev (after Smash!! broke up) actually didn't want to record in Russian at all when he began his career, but changed his mind later on. He still records in English extensively, though. (A comment under one of his music videos — probably In My Lonely Life — jokingly called him a K-pop star born in the wrong country.)
This, however, brings to mind musical critic Oleg Karmunin and his Telegram channel "Russkiy shuffle", where he deliberately ignores Russian artists recording English-language songs, his reasoning being "no one really wants to hear you over there in the sea of alternatives". And I honestly agree with Karmunin in that regard, even if partially.
Now, K-pop as a genre has a universally agreed on starting point. That point is the performance by Seo Taiji and Boys on April 11, 1992 on a talent show by MBC. It proved so popular that the whole industry was now trying to do the same kind of music they were doing. Yang Hyun-suk, who was a member of Seo Taiji and Boys, started YG Entertainment, which became one of the largest K-pop companies. Without that performance, there would be no K-pop in its modern sense.
K-pop is as much music as it is aesthetic. This is why I brought up t. A. T. u., actually — they did have a thought-out image which inspired many. And, as success of Fabrika Zvezd (Russian remake of Star Academy format) showed, there was no shortage of young Russians (and not only Russians, certain contestants came from other countries as well) wanting to get a taste of fame.
Now that Russia was brought up as a place where a K-pop-esque culture could arise, I'd say that there was fertile ground for that. There is a problem, though. One that is still felt even now.
See, the big stars of the days of old were reluctant to give the way to the youth. Alla Pugachova in particular — in the 2000s she was still an influential figure — was compared to a mob boss by some as she could destroy careers of anyone who didn't like her. For many, she and the people associated with her represent everything wrong with Russian showbiz. The dreaded old guard with gatekeeping ways. You had to be their friend to have a chance.
Another serious problem are shady business practices that wouldn't completely go out of fashion for quite a while. The same group could perform simultaneously in several places with onstage "singers" lip syncing to the same vocal tracks. It was a common practice in the 1990s, less so in the 2000s but some would stick by that.
The "sex sells" factor is heavily at play too. The proliferation of "singing underpants", as Dmitry Malikov dubbed it, was very real and went hand-in-hand with the point above. This refers to girl groups tailored to male gaze exclusively. It's a point of infamy for many groups, as a matter of fact. It might not sound like a problem considering the topic, but it was getting a bit too shameless.
Exploring a scenario where Russia becomes a powerhouse of pop music (and pop culture) would be very interesting to me personally, but, for several reasons, I think it would be quite tricky to do.