
Rosalía’s “LUX” opens with “Sexo, Violencia y Llantas” (Sex, Violence and Tires), which instantly hits listeners with somber piano tunes layered over one another, creating a cascading symphony of emotion. It’s already a sharp left turn from the neoperreo and Latin pop sounds of Rosalía’s previous album, “MOTOMAMI.” Her vocals are a lot more pronounced, reminiscent of her flamenco roots displayed in her 2018 album “El Mal Querer,” which translates to “The Bad Loving.”
The sound of “Sexo, Violencia y Llantas” is almost spiritual, as heavenly strings join her while she sings, “En el primero, sexo, violencia y llantas… En el segundo, destellos, palomas y santas,” (“In the first, sex, violence and tires; in the second, flashes, doves and saints”). While the album’s lyrics focus on exploring the relationship between the material world and the spiritual, the album’s composition and arrangements are nothing short of heavenly.
Where “MOTOMAMI” was chaotic and sporadic, Rosalía said “LUX” is a tightly knit, intentional project.
“MOTOMAMI was minimalist. This is maximalist,” Rosalía said in an interview with Zane Lowe.
To fully appreciate the depth of “LUX,” listeners must dive beyond its sonic beauty into the work’s writing, which features lyrics in 13 different languages. It might seem like a gimmick at first, but Rosalía’s dedication to global theology and the inspiration she drew from female saints and religious figures is anything but gimmicky.
The fourth track, “Porcelana” (Porcelain), feels ritualistic, featuring a reverberating timpani drum and deep bass drum hits, and shows Rosalía’s dedication to her concept. She sings, “美貌なんて 捨ててやる; 君に台無しにされる前に,” which roughly translates to “I’ll ruin my beauty; before you can ruin it.” In her interview with Zane Lowe, Rosalía states she’s referencing the story of the Japanese monk Ryōnen Gensō. In the story, Gensō, hoping to study under Buddhist monk Haku-ō, burned and scarred her face when Haku-ō said her womanly face would be a distraction to the other pupils. It’s this devotion to faith, and the lengths to which these women go to embrace said faith, that seems to fuel this desire to push the boundaries of music on “LUX.” She quotes John 8:12 in Latin as well, saying “Ego sum lux mundi,” (“I am the light of the world”).
The lead single of the album, “Berghain,” featuring Björk and Yves Tumor, barges in with a dramatic violin solo and the booming voices of a Catalan choir in Rosalía’s fullest display of her classical training to date. Her vocals are operatic, and she joins the choir in a German chant that runs through the track, chanting “Seine Liebe ist meine Liebe; Sein Blut ist mein Blut,” (His love is my love; His blood is my blood). When talking to Zane Lowe, she described “Berghain” as the culmination of the orchestral elements of her album, a way of showing her fans a departure from “MOTOMANI.” It’s bold, brash and all-consuming, with Björk’s stirring vocals and Tumor’s horrifying repetitions adding an undeniable art pop sound and gothic flair to the ending.
Rosalía’s classical training in other genres also comes into full force, and on “La Rumba del Perdon” (The Rumba of Forgiveness), flamenco takes center stage. Featuring prominent flamenco artists Estrella Morente and Sílvia Pérez Cruz, “Rumba” is a beautiful fusion of Rosalía’s signature flamenco style seen on “El Mal Querer” – Rosalía’s baccalaureate project at Catalonia College of Music – and the grandiose classical on the rest of “LUX.” It was written six years ago and reimagined for the album, but it melds perfectly with the rest of the album. The choruses sound as though they are worshipping as Rosalía sings “Todito te lo perdono,” to say that she’ll forgive the person in question for all they’ve done. Morente and Pérez Cruz’s performances are nothing short of beautiful, and their voices meld with Rosalía’s perfectly.
“LUX” is the result of Rosalía’s self-imposed isolation. In her interview with Zane Lowe, she said her biggest motivation for this album was to make a work that was truly maximalist. To say she achieved her goal would be an understatement. Every song on here is its own work, standing proudly on its own feet. Varying from overjoyed celebration to reverent worship to deep dismay over the state of the world, a spectrum of emotion shines through brightly. “LUX” itself means light, and the radiance of said light emanates from the album cover as well, which features Rosalía dressed in all white, with her veil laid back to reveal her glowing face and her golden lips. Her body itself is restricted within the garment, her hands only outlined under the stretching fabric. It looks almost like a trust exercise or a declaration of faith, which is a theme that shows up in “LUX” time and time again.
“LUX” is the fullest display of Rosalía’s devotion to both her spirituality and her music. What results is the most boundary-pushing, gorgeous and radiant album of the year — a true testament to faith.
