Tech enthusiast and innovation strategist with over a decade of experience in digital transformation and emerging technologies.
On the surface, this work might appear closer to a difficult academic examination rather than the latest popular music album by a musician whose previous hit was a collaboration with an international pop icon. Split across four distinct sections and voiced in thirteen tongues, this is a head-spinning classical-tinged work exploring female mystique, spiritual transcendence, and corporal change, frequently by way of the prism of various women saints. The dissolution of a love affair—a theme handled with grounded openness elsewhere—is launched upwards on this record, supported by the lush sound of a major orchestra and input from an award-winning songwriter among a long list of contributors. Its sheer daring by itself renders the efforts of contemporary artists appear rather small.
That Lux manages to escape dry intellectual posturing is nearly a miracle, with full praise belonging to Rosalía. Although it's not her first album to fuse the past with modern styles, the ambitions feel much higher here, and the tightrope walk more dramatic. The element that truly elevates her fourth release, beyond its multilayered melodies, dense arrangements, and inherent drama, is a core sense of playfulness. Similar to the legendary artist during her peak, you find a captivating quality to Rosalía's voice which sweeps the listener up in its whirlwind. When she's tearing your heart apart, the listener nevertheless want to stay alongside her for the journey.
This playful energy shines brightly on a stunning Italian ballad inspired by Saint Clare. It luxuriates in a string-drenched whirlpool over several minutes. Suddenly, all the music falls silent, and there's a gleeful giggle and a declaration before a comically exaggerated string crescendo crashes in with comedic force. The track immediately segues to the frenetic single featuring galloping orchestration, a powerful choir, and a cameo role from the artist Björk.
"The charm of Lux is that you rarely quite know—or even want to predict—where it is going to next."
Almost every track ends in a completely different point than how it began. One moment explores the fleeting nature of celebrity with a delicate orchestration only to disintegrating into digital chaos. Elsewhere, a song echoing her earlier trap-infused work starts out moody and brooding, featuring menacing vocals, before fluttering flamenco handclaps and a heavenly chorus enter to soften the song's jagged corners.
A key balancing act of Lux involves straddling the line of radical experimentation and mainstream appeal. This is little coincidence that it has achieved the artist's highest-charting work to crack the Top 5 of major markets: its heart contains a suite of truly undeniable pop songs. A song sung entirely in English builds around a refrain that feels to collect increasingly infectious melodies while it spins skyward. That trick is repeated by another expansive ballad that expands and constricts, weaving layered melodies as an intricate weave.
This album represents popular music on a maximalist scale, an ambitious reach for high artistry in an era of looming AI-generated sameness. It eschews self-absorption for glorious transcendence, creating a dramatic spectacle that masterfully controls its own inherent excess. This is an abundant well of hidden treasure that requires patience to fully explore but doesn't feels like hard work. While some major pop albums of 2025 seemed like a meager meal, this record offers a lavish feast at which the guests around the table, perhaps tipsy on sacred drink, flit between discussions about historical saints, the profound sensation of soul-shattering sadness, and common gossip about useless men. In essence, it's a modern-day musical from pop's most endlessly creative practitioner.
Tech enthusiast and innovation strategist with over a decade of experience in digital transformation and emerging technologies.