ROSALÍA’s Berghain, featuring Björk and Yves Tumor, is an art ritual. Orchestrated with grandeur and intimacy, it fuses classical majesty with club sensuality. The track opens her upcoming album LUX (out November 7, 2025) and instantly signals a new, transcendent era for the Spanish visionary.
The production, conducted by Daníel Bjarnason with the London Symphony Orchestra, is sweeping yet deliberate. Strings swell like breath; choirs chant in German, evoking a liturgical rite:
“Seine Angst ist meine Angst,
Seine Liebe ist meine Liebe…”
The arrangement is cinematic – more requiem than pop single – where the silence between notes feels as heavy as the orchestral surges themselves. The choir acts as a congregation, grounding the song’s spiritual tone as ROSALÍA glides above it, her Spanish vocals cutting through with molten vulnerability.
Singing in Spanish, ROSALÍA channels both priestess and siren. Her phrasing moves between whispered reverence and operatic power. It’s emotional, tactile – her voice trembling against the vast orchestral mass. When Björk enters, her ghostly harmonies ripple through the mix like wind in stained glass, amplifying the sacred undertone. Together, they transform Berghain – the Berlin club of myth – into a cathedral of ecstasy.
Then comes Yves Tumor, a dark counterweight to all this divinity. Their entrance shifts the song’s axis. Industrial bass pulses beneath Yves’ smoky, intimate growl as they repeat, mantra-like:
“I’ll fuck you till you love me…”
It’s jarring. Uncomfortable. Deliberately so. This raw intrusion fractures the song’s holiness, forcing the listener to confront the thin boundary between desire and devotion, the sacred and the profane. The repetition becomes hypnotic – less vulgarity, more exorcism.
The accompanying video, directed by Carlota Guerrero, visualizes this collision of purity and excess. It opens with ROSALÍA in an apartment with the entire orchestra, going to pawn a ring, taking a bus – again with the orchestra, returning to an almost Alice in Wonderland, Snow White vibe with cute animals, and then the animals crying black tears as ROSALÍA curls up in bed with Yves screamalogue.
Berghain is not designed for comfort. It’s audacious, haunting, and original – a piece that stretches the boundaries of pop into something symphonic and unsettling. ROSALÍA proves again that she thrives in tension: between light and dark, tradition and chaos, prayer and pleasure. The result feels less like a track and more like a revelation, a three-minute opera for the post-club generation.
We have added Berghain to the top of our New Music Spotlight playlist.