Rosalía's latest release, Lux, is an audacious and challenging listen that defies easy categorization. By her own admission, she made this album as a reaction to the mindless indulgence of scrolling social media - a sentiment that rings particularly true in today's algorithm-driven music landscape.
In many ways, Rosalía has form for pushing boundaries with her artistry. Her previous albums, El Mal Querer and Motomami, both represented dramatic shifts in sound and style, and Lux is no exception. While both of those predecessors were pop albums, they were wildly adventurous and original in their own right.
But Lux is something else entirely. This album is a sprawling, 10-song epic that defies easy summarization. It's a song cycle based on the lives of female saints, with Rosalía singing in 13 different languages to the accompaniment of a full orchestra. The result is an album that sounds like nothing you've heard before - and often feels more akin to classical music than anything else.
This isn't to say that there aren't pop elements at play here. You can hear Auto-Tune, Bernard Herrmann-esque string arrangements, and even rapping in some of the tracks. But these elements never feel central to Lux's sound; instead, they seem like ghostly presences drifting through a strange and beautiful landscape.
One of the biggest surprises on Lux is its use of guest artists. Björk makes a memorable appearance on the song "Berghain," her distinctive voice adding an otherworldly quality to the track. It's hard not to suspect that Rosalía sees Björk as a kindred spirit - someone who has built a career on taking bold artistic risks.
The album's sound is at times overwhelming, with sudden leaps between languages and styles that can be disorienting even with the aid of lyrics. But Rosalía's vocal performances are consistently stunning, imbuing each song with an emotional rawness that makes them feel deeply personal and relatable.
Ultimately, Lux is an album that demands a lot from its listeners - not just in terms of its complexity and ambition, but also in terms of their willingness to engage with it on a deeper level. It's an album that asks you to put effort into appreciating it, rather than just letting the algorithm do the work for you.
And yet, for all its challenges, Lux is an incredibly compelling listen - one that rewards close attention and repeated listens. In a world where music is increasingly disposable and ephemeral, this album feels like a breath of fresh air - a reminder that art can still be a powerful force for change and connection.
				
			In many ways, Rosalía has form for pushing boundaries with her artistry. Her previous albums, El Mal Querer and Motomami, both represented dramatic shifts in sound and style, and Lux is no exception. While both of those predecessors were pop albums, they were wildly adventurous and original in their own right.
But Lux is something else entirely. This album is a sprawling, 10-song epic that defies easy summarization. It's a song cycle based on the lives of female saints, with Rosalía singing in 13 different languages to the accompaniment of a full orchestra. The result is an album that sounds like nothing you've heard before - and often feels more akin to classical music than anything else.
This isn't to say that there aren't pop elements at play here. You can hear Auto-Tune, Bernard Herrmann-esque string arrangements, and even rapping in some of the tracks. But these elements never feel central to Lux's sound; instead, they seem like ghostly presences drifting through a strange and beautiful landscape.
One of the biggest surprises on Lux is its use of guest artists. Björk makes a memorable appearance on the song "Berghain," her distinctive voice adding an otherworldly quality to the track. It's hard not to suspect that Rosalía sees Björk as a kindred spirit - someone who has built a career on taking bold artistic risks.
The album's sound is at times overwhelming, with sudden leaps between languages and styles that can be disorienting even with the aid of lyrics. But Rosalía's vocal performances are consistently stunning, imbuing each song with an emotional rawness that makes them feel deeply personal and relatable.
Ultimately, Lux is an album that demands a lot from its listeners - not just in terms of its complexity and ambition, but also in terms of their willingness to engage with it on a deeper level. It's an album that asks you to put effort into appreciating it, rather than just letting the algorithm do the work for you.
And yet, for all its challenges, Lux is an incredibly compelling listen - one that rewards close attention and repeated listens. In a world where music is increasingly disposable and ephemeral, this album feels like a breath of fresh air - a reminder that art can still be a powerful force for change and connection.