Lux, the Sagrada Familia of Rosalía

When Rosalía Vila Tobella was a child, time spent with her grandmother had the sound of Pavarotti's classical arias echoing around the house. Those atmospheres have settled into the memory of the Catalan artist, now on her fourth album. "I wanted to understand how other languages work," said Rosalía in an interview with the New York Times; her intention was to create a record so big that it would contain places, perspectives and sounds that are far apart. With 'Lux', this desire takes shape in a monumental work: thirteen idioms - even Sicilian in 'Focu 'ranni' - interwoven as instruments, symphonic orchestrations, a Catalan choir and the presence of Björk and Yves Tumor, suspended between the altar and the Berlin club Berghain. Recorded between London, Barcelona and Reykjavík, 'Lux' is the result of two years of obsessive study. Rosalía surrounded herself with the London Symphony Orchestra and Caroline Shaw, Pulitzer Prize-winning composer and favourite collaborator of the singer, building a bridge between liturgy and pop, between Gregorian chant and electronic glitch. It is a journey steeped in 'female mysticism', in which the experiences of saints from distant times and places resonate.

Starting with the contemporary folk of 2017's 'Los Ángeles', the following year Rosalía rewrote flamenco through electronics in 'Con El Mal Querer'. "Motomami", released in 2022, was a collage of reggaeton, art pop and vulnerability that established her as a hybridisation icon. 'Lux' represents a return to essence, but through chaos. Like Björk before her, Rosalía seems to think in contradictions. Each record is a reaction to the previous one, probably because of the 'confidence' the artist speaks of, specifying that this comes from not fearing failure. Reinforcing this idea were Ocean Vuong's books, from which Rosalía learnt that imperfection is synonymous with humanity and not fully achieving what we set out to do is not a drama.

Listening to 'Lux' is like walking through a cathedral under construction. Each song opens a different aisle. "Porcelana" weaves Japanese language and clapping, "La Perla" is a waltz diluted with laughter, "La Rumba del Perdón" grants indulgence by reshaping fado. "La Yugular" expresses in music the concept of the Islamic religion according to which the individual must recognise his place in creation and his relationship with the divine. Rosalía's voice, now operatic, now flayed, holds together the tensions of an album that is as conceptual as it is emotional. The album, while divided into movements, brings pop music back to its most literal meaning, 'popular', in the sense of sharing what is human. Not surprisingly, at the beginning of the album, after a piano introduction, the first human sound is a breath. Admittedly, some moments appear more exercises in style than revelations. But in its risk there is an unsurprising idea of contemporary art, one that is not satisfied and is not afraid to dialogue with different aesthetic and meaning planes. In its own way, 'Lux' is proof that pop music can still afford mystery.

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