I think we all need a little more mystery in our lives. These days, we’re so connected to absolutely everything and everyone at all times that the concept of “wanting to know something and being unable to learn it” is a completely foreign concept in our everyday lives. It’s no secret that when writing these articles I like to, when possible, add some small additional note about an artist so I can outwardly present like I know what I’m talking about. So it was a completely new experience when I attempted to do a little research into an artist with nearly 100,000 monthly listeners on spotify and was unable to learn a single fact. Like not even one. It’s on the level that Bhertuy doesn’t even have an instagram bio, it’s insane, and honestly I love it.

Obviously the point of this article was to write about the song anyways, but I wanted to start on that note because honestly, I think this is what most artists dream of; getting to post 3 things a year and get a bunch of streams at the same time. Bhertuy’s wink is the latest addition to the catalog of our silent protagonist, and it’s a striking balance somewhere between post-hyperpop sound design and recession pop dance music. It’s a hit or miss combo that, in this case, is an absolute hit with its combination of analog and digital in perfect harmony with the wallowing melancholic vocals full of nothing but longing. With its 4 on the floor pairing of drums and bass, it’s something that feels ripped out of a 2008 club mix from a club I’m not on the list for, but desperately wish I was. What’s great about that though, is that despite being a love letter to that sound, it’s still distinctly modern with its choppier, more distorted nature, as well as its trap inspired outro. The latter is a phenomenally interesting choice, as it was not at all what I was expecting but exactly what the song needed. It’s a short and sweet package barely breaking 2 minutes long, but within that time it gives us everything we could ask for, so long as what you’re asking for is that kind of existential mournful nostalgia.

Overall, I actually wish I could drag on about this longer. It’s the curse of short songs (especially ones with large instrumental breaks), that despite how amazing they may be, there’s only so many words I can give about its production before you (the lovely audience) gets bored and goes back to doomscrolling. For that reason, let’s keep it simple and say this: recession pop was so good that it’s still on the radio over 15 years later. So let’s take the only note I can piece together out of Bhertuy’s book (that is missing all the pages, like this dude has near zero online presence it’s fascinating), and pull from that some more. Because right now, that’s the cheat code to a modern masterpiece.