Rosalía has never been short of creativity. On her 2017 debut album ‘Los Ángeles’, she took centuries-old flamenco cantes and brought them into the 21st century. Its follow-up (and her baccalaureate thesis), 2018’s ‘El Mal Querer’, was a modern take on the Andalusian genre, combining it with the sounds of pop and hip-hop, while 2022’s ‘Motomami’ took her to Latin America, fusing reggaeton and disruptive electronics into her own vision.
The 33-year-old’s fourth and latest album, though, might just be her most adventurous yet. ‘Lux’ contains not just whole worlds, but astral planes, bridging the gap between Earth and whatever you believe heaven to be. It features the Spanish star singing in 13 different languages, including Japanese, Arabic, Portuguese, Ukrainian, Latin and Sicilian. She spent a year poring over lyrics, first feeding her instinctive writing into Google Translate and then working closely with professional translators to make sure each line felt natural but also sounded right in song. And its concept was inspired by Rosalía immersing herself in hagiographies, inspired by stories of female saints – or figures comparable to saints in other religions and cultures – from across the globe.
‘Lux’ is, then, an album that asks a lot of you, particularly spanning 18 tracks and one hour in length. But give it what it demands, and it will reward you many times over. It is an astonishing record – one that continuously stops you dead in your tracks, encourages curiosity, and builds a new world for you to dive into, while connecting to the sounds of all of Rosalía’s previous releases. “The more we are in the era of dopamine, the more I want the opposite,” she recently told the New York Times’ Popcast podcast. This album reinforces that – there are no easy hits or quick highs, no addictive loops to get trapped in, and it’s all the more divine for it.
Divinity is central to ‘Lux’. It runs heavy on the spiritual and religious imagery, from Rosalía dressed in what looks like a nun’s habit on the cover to the frequent nods in the lyrics. “Each vertebra reveals a mystery / Pray on my spine, it’s a rosary”, she sings in gorgeous falsetto over shimmering strings and rumbling, rickety percussion on ‘Divinize’. Opener ‘Sexo, Violencia y Llantas’ finds her dividing up two worlds – our earthly chaos of “Blood sports / Coins on throats” and the more magical, mystical promised land of “Sparkles, pigeons and saints”. ‘Dios Es Un Stalker’ – or ‘God Is A Stalker’ in English – has her positioning herself, tongue-in-cheek, as the titular deity, sharing: “I’ve always been so spoiled / And worn out by all this omnipresence / But I’m gonna hijack this heart / I’m gonna stalk it and I’ll show no mercy”.
Rosalía makes bold moves on her latest masterpiece. ‘Mio Christo’ – sung entirely in Italian – is her take on an aria, her vocals soaring to emotional heights. In one moment grand and thundering, the next they’re soft and hushed, her control of her instrument never less than superlative. ‘Novia Robot’ – which features Spanish, Mandarin and Hebrew lyrics – centres on the story of the Chinese Taoist master Sun Bu’er, who intentionally spoiled her beauty by splashing boiling oil on her face to prevent any men she came across from being drawn to her and obstructing a journey she was to undertake from Shandong to Luoyang.
In Rosalía’s hands, that becomes a jump-off point to write about the objectification of women and capitalism’s role in maintaining that status quo. “Every purchase comes with a warranty because our policy is conceived to make us look good and make you happy, no matter the cost!” she says in a mocking spoken-word intro. “We’re proud to be the most successful company in 2025, the one with the highest revenue and the business that harms our sisters the most.”
Although much of ‘Lux’ is arrestingly beautiful – the London Symphony Orchestra’s playing the perfect accompaniment to Rosalía’s emotional delivery – it also has moments of simmering anger. ‘La Perla’, rumoured to be about her former fiancé Rauw Alejandro, decimates an ex in a series of oh-so-delicious drags, each one fighting for the title of most devastating. “Gold medal in being a motherfucker”, she coos over a pretty waltz, before shrugging off the supposed progress he’s making with a therapist: “But what’s it worth / If you lie more than you talk / They’ll build a monument / To your dishonesty”. Perhaps the victor, though, is one of the song’s last verses: “Loyalty / And fidelity / That’s a language / He’ll never get / His masterpiece / Is his bra collection”. Ouch!
Split into four movements, ‘Lux’ bows out on a gentle wave of peace, Rosalía finally ascending from our mortal coil to whatever lies beyond. “I come from the stars / But today I turn to dust / To go back to them”, she explains on ‘Magnolias’, which delicately builds its orchestral layers to a near-finale of rolling, reverberating drums and poised organ. It’s a stunning end to an album that consistently leaves you with your jaw on your floor; a record that defies the playlist-driven, bite-sized, background-listening way in which we often consume music these days. Dim the lights, put your phone on Do Not Disturb, turn up the volume and settle in for a truly one-of-a-kind experience.
