On the surface, Lux could seem closer to a difficult scholarly examination than a new popular music album from a musician whose previous hit was a collaboration with an international K-pop star. Split across four distinct sections and sung in thirteen tongues, this is a breathtaking classical-tinged album investigating feminine mystery, religious ascent, and physical transformation, often by way of the perspective of different female saints. The dissolution of a love affair—a theme handled with grounded openness elsewhere—soars skyward on this record, carried by the constant sound of a full symphony orchestra and work from a Pulitzer-winning songwriter within a vast list of collaborators. The pure ambition by itself renders the efforts of other pop stars seem rather small.
The fact that this album manages to escape dry intellectual posturing is almost a miracle, with full praise going to Rosalía. Although this is not her first album to alchemize historical sounds with modern styles, the ambitions are much higher here, and the balancing act more precarious. What really raises her fourth release, beyond its complex tunes, dense arrangements, and inherent theatricality, is an essential spirit of fun. Much like the iconic Björk during her height, there is a wondrous quality to the vocalist's singing which sweeps you into its whirlwind. Even when she is breaking hearts in two, you nevertheless want to stay alongside her for the journey.
This exuberant spirit comes forth clearly during a stirring piano-led song about Saint Clare. It bathes in a string-drenched whirlpool over more than four minutes. Suddenly, all the music drops away, and there's a gleeful laugh followed by a declaration prior to a comically exaggerated string crescendo thuds in with cartoonish force. The song immediately segues to the frenetic track featuring galloping orchestration, a powerful choir, and a cameo appearance from none other than herself.
"The magic with Lux is that the listener never exactly know—nor want to predict—what it will go to next."
Nearly every song concludes in a totally different point than how it started. A track examines the fleeting nature of celebrity over a delicate orchestration only to collapsing in digital cacophony. Elsewhere, a cut that recalls the artist's previous trap-infused style starts off moody and brooding, with menacing vocals, before fluttering traditional rhythms and a heavenly choir enter to smooth its jagged corners.
A key balancing act on the album involves navigating the line between radical experimentation and broad appeal. It is no coincidence that it has achieved her highest-charting work to crack the Top 5 of key charts: its heart contains a suite of utterly undeniable pop songs. A song sung primarily in English swells on a chorus that seems to collect increasingly infectious melodies as it spirals upward. This trick gets repeated by a different powerful ballad that expands and constricts, weaving layered tunes like a complex weave.
Lux is popular music on a grand level, a hungry reach for high artistry in an era of looming artificial sameness. It rejects solipsism for glorious transcendence, creating a dramatic drama that skillfully controls its own inherent excess. This is a deep source of buried gems that requires patience to completely mine but never seem like hard work. Where some major releases of the year seemed like feasting on scraps, Lux offers a sumptuous feast at which the guests around the table, some tipsy on sacred wine, flutter from discussions about ancient figures, the galvanizing sensation of soul-shattering sadness, and common stories about hopeless partners. It is a modern-day musical from music's truly restlessly creative visionary.
Elara is a digital artist and content strategist with over a decade of experience in visual media and creative blogging.