On the surface, this album could seem more like an arduous university examination than the latest pop project by an artist who just had a previous single featured an international pop star. Split into 4 separate movements and sung in thirteen languages, it is a head-spinning orchestral-influenced work investigating feminine mystique, spiritual ascent, and physical transformation, often through the lens of various women saints. The dissolution of a romance—a theme treated with raw openness on another major 2025 album—soars heavenward on this record, buoyed by the constant sound of a major symphony orchestra and contributions from a Pulitzer-winning composer among a long list of contributors. The pure ambition alone makes the work of other artists seem quite modest.
The fact that this album manages to avoid overly academic chin-stroking is nearly a miracle, with full credit going to Rosalía. While it's not her first project to alchemize historical sounds with modern styles, the scale feel much greater on Lux, and the tightrope walk far more dramatic. The element that really raises her fourth release, outside of its complex melodies, dense arrangements, and engrained theatricality, proves to be a core sense of fun. Similar to the legendary Björk at her height, there is a captivating sense to Rosalía's singing which sweeps the listener into its whirlwind. Even when she is breaking hearts in two, you nevertheless desire to stay right there for the journey.
That exuberant spirit comes forth brightly on the stunning piano-led ballad inspired by Saint Clare. It luxuriates in a string-drenched whirlpool over several moments. Suddenly, everything falls away, to reveal we hear a gleeful giggle followed by a comment before a hilariously exaggerated orchestral crescendo thuds down like cartoonish force. The song then segues into the frenetic track featuring galloping strings, an imposing choir, and a surprise role from none other than Björk.
"The charm with this album is that the listener rarely quite know—or even wish to know—where you is going next."
Almost each track concludes in a completely different point from how it started. One moment explores the transient nature of celebrity over a featherlight orchestration only to disintegrating in digital chaos. Elsewhere, a song echoing the artist's previous rhythmic style begins off moody and brooding, with menacing vocals, before sudden flamenco rhythms and a heavenly choir arrive to soften the song's rough edges.
Another crucial achievement on Lux is navigating the line between bold experimentation and broad appeal. This is no surprise that it has achieved her first release to break into the Top 5 of major charts: at its core a collection of truly undeniable hits. One track sung primarily in English swells around a chorus that feels to gather more and more infectious melodies while it spins upward. This feat is echoed by a different powerful ballad that grows and contracts, intertwining multiple tunes as an intricate tapestry.
This album represents pop on a grand scale, an ambitious reach for high artistry amid of impending AI-generated blankness. It eschews self-absorption in favor of sublime transcendence, creating an over-the-top spectacle that masterfully controls its own inherent ridiculousness. This is an abundant source of buried gems that requires time to completely explore but never seem like hard work. Where some major pop albums of the year felt like a meager scraps, Lux is a lavish feast where the guests at it, perhaps intoxicated on sacred wine, flit between conversations about historical figures, the profound feeling of soul-shattering sadness, and shared gossip about useless men. In essence, it's a modern-day musical from music's truly restlessly inventive visionary.
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