At first glance, Lux may look more like a difficult scholarly examination rather than a new popular music project from an artist whose last single was a collaboration with an international pop star. Split into 4 separate parts and performed in 13 tongues, this is a breathtaking symphonic work investigating female mystique, spiritual transcendence, and physical change, often by way of the prism of various female saints. The dissolution of a relationship—a theme handled with raw honesty on another major 2025 album—soars skyward here, buoyed by the constant sound of a major orchestra and work from a Pulitzer-winning composer within a vast list of collaborators. Its sheer audacity by itself renders the work of contemporary pop stars seem rather modest.
That Lux manages to escape dry academic chin-stroking is almost miraculous, and complete praise belonging to the artist. While this is not the first time album to alchemize historical sounds and the present, the stakes are much greater on Lux, and the tightrope walk far more precarious. What really elevates this fourth release, outside of its complex tunes, dense arrangements, and inherent drama, is a core spirit of joy. Similar to the legendary artist at her height, there is a captivating sense to Rosalía's voice that pulls the listener up in its whirlwind. When she is breaking hearts in two, the listener nevertheless desire to be right there through the ride.
This exuberant energy shines clearly during a stunning Italian ballad about Saint Clare. It bathes in a sorrowful melancholy over more than four moments. Suddenly, everything drops away, to reveal we hear a gleeful laugh followed by a declaration before a hilariously over-the-top orchestral crescendo thuds down like cartoonish impact. The song immediately segues to the frenetic track driven by racing orchestration, an imposing choral group, and a surprise role from the artist herself.
"The magic with Lux is that the listener never quite understand—nor wish to know—what you is going to next."
Nearly every song concludes at a totally different point than how it began. One moment explores the transient nature of celebrity with a delicate orchestration only to disintegrating into digital chaos. Elsewhere, a song that recalls the artist's earlier trap-infused style begins out moody and sinister, with prowling vocals, until fluttering flamenco handclaps and an angelic choir arrive to soften its jagged corners.
A key balancing act of Lux is straddling the line between radical innovation and broad accessibility. This is little surprise that it has achieved her highest-charting release to break into the Top 5 of major charts: at its core a collection of utterly undeniable hits. A song sung primarily in the English language builds around a chorus that seems to collect more and more nagging melodies as it spins upward. This trick gets echoed on a different expansive track that expands and constricts, weaving multiple melodies like a complex tapestry.
This album represents popular music on a grand scale, an ambitious grasp for high Art in an era of impending AI-generated blankness. It eschews solipsism in favor of glorious elevation, crafting an over-the-top drama that skillfully controls its inherent ridiculousness. This is a deep well of hidden gems that takes patience to fully mine but never feels like hard work. While other major releases of the year seemed like a meager meal, Lux offers a sumptuous banquet where the guests at it, perhaps tipsy on sacred drink, flutter from discussions about historical figures, the galvanizing feeling of soul-shattering grief, and shared stories about useless partners. It is a contemporary theatrical production from music's most restlessly creative practitioner.
Elena Vance is a film critic and entertainment journalist with over a decade of experience covering international cinema and industry trends.