ROSALIA’S LUX IS A CATHARTIC MASTERPIECE
editor MAREK BARTEK
Christmas came early this year! Rosalía gifted us all a gift of music, or better yet, her latest take on it. Her fourth album LUX is finally out, and it is everything we wished for. Across eighteen tracks, she explores mortality, lust, sainthood, and herself. It’s sacred, sinful and cinematically divine.
From the first notes of the opener “Sexo, Violencia y Llantas” we find ourselves in front of altar. Rosalía’s house of worship moves on from the catchy pop of her previous era into it’s something more daring — merging flamenco, orchestral pop, experimental electronic, trap, and liturgical music into one masterful musical art piece. Just like a symphony or a psalm, the album, too, is structured in four movements.
Spirituality through Rosalía’s lens feels worth following. She dives into the lives of female saints, their contradictions and their radical choices, and uses them to examine her own path of a public figure, woman, lover, and exile of expectation. Her lead track Berghain was inspired by Hildegard of Bingen, a 12th century German abbess, who had vision that would pierce her brain. Vimala was a prostitute who was writing poetry, and became a saint because she was one of the first women to write in the Therīgāthā, an ancient Buddhist poem collection. Santa Olga de Kyiv lived in the 10th century. She was a Protestant but is considered a saint because of how many people she brought to religion. At the same time, after her husband had been murdered, she killed a lot of men as a revenge. The human paradox is what drew Rosalía to these women.
On La Perla she delivers perhaps her sharpest lines, calling her ex an “emotional terrorist”, “thief of peace” and a “walking red flag”. But it’s not just bitter. Rosalía’s revenge is elegant, measured, and un-viral. On Mio Cristo she asks, “How many punches should have been hugs?” A question that hovers on the edge of confessional and critical.
The rhythms of the club scenes she once ruled now turned ceremonial; the vocals that once gave us instant ear-worms now span, giving space to vulnerability. She sings in 13 languages — Arabic, Catalan, Sicilian, Spanish, Ukrainian and many more — using linguistics to let us know that love hurts in all tongues. And yet: this is not just a break-up album. LUX is a revelation. It’s bold in its orchestration, ambitious in its scope, intimate in its heartbreak. It braids flamenco’s mournful cry with techno, choir and pop.
Eighteen tracks, four movements, Patti Smith reading a poem, Björk and the London Symphony Orchestra later the question is, “Is the the best album of the year?” It just might be! In the world where we are constantly buried in noise, Rosalía created a force that makes us sit in silence and listen. It is a catharsis that brings in the light.