There’s an obvious reason that none other than Madonna herself felt compelled to post about the “visionary” nature of ROSALÍA’s fourth album, Lux. Apart from “subtly” flexing that she had listened to an advance copy, there’s also the fact that Madonna has been obsessed with Catholicism/religion in general and the various heroines of theology for essentially her entire life. And yes, perhaps la reina de pop wishes she had already thought of posing as a nun on one of her album covers à la ROSALÍA for Lux. Not a typical nun, of course. For that would belie the fact that this isn’t a record that promotes “traditional” ways despite its classical sound. Instead, ROSALÍA’s aim is to subvert expectations of what it means to 1) be spiritual and 2) meld genres and subjects. So it is that the cover art features ROSALÍA wearing a white veil and habit…only the habit part of it is formed to make it look more like a straitjacket, with ROSALÍA’s arms constricted across her chest and stomach.
The message of such an image speaks to what is often seen as the “madness” of being in touch with the divine (not to mention the acts of extremism it brings about). More to the point, the madness of those who have claimed to be in touch with God or “the light” in some way. To have had visions that were instead deemed hallucinations by the Church (e.g., Joan of Arc). And to set the tone for that tincture of madness and divinity is “Sexo, Violencia y Llantas” (“Sex, Violence and Tires”). A song that serves as the central thesis statement of what it means to be a saint (and also, what it means to be Jesus), to achieve a level of devotion that has made one go far beyond the temptations of the earthly world. For that is the answer to the question when ROSALÍA asks (in Spanish), “Who could come from this Earth/And enter Heaven and return to Earth?/That between Earth, Earth and Heaven/There would never be ground/In the first, sex, violence and tires/Blood sports, coins in throats/In the second, flashes, doves and saints/Grace and fruit, and the weight of the scales/Who could live between the two?/First love the world, then love God.” In a sense, that latter statement embodies what ROSALÍA did by releasing Motomami before Lux. She loved the world, with all its temporal pleasures, and now she’s loving God (or something like him) and the saints he begat. Saints that serve as the primary inspiration for the songs on Lux.
This includes “Reliquia,” inspired by Santa Rosa de Lima. Opening with a lush arrangement of violin strings, ROSALÍA sings of the various places “she’s” been and where she lost certain parts of herself. For example, “I who lost my hands in Jerez/And my eyes in Rome/I grew up and learned/My audacity around Barcelona/I lost my tongue in Paris/My time in LA/My heels in Milan/My smile in the UK.” But what ROSALÍA must add is that, from her saintly perspective within this song, “But my heart has never been mine/I always give it away, uh, uh-uh/Take a piece of me/Keep it for when I’m gone/I’ll be your relic.” Then, at about the one-minute-fifteen-second mark, the beat really drops (that’s right, a beat can drop while classical music is involved thanks to ROSALÍA) as she continues to declare, “I’m your relic/I’ll be your relic.”
At another point, she sings, “No, no, no soy una santa, pero estoy blessed” (“No, no, I’m no saint, but I’m blessed”), a feeling, no doubt, that many of the saints—before they could ever know they would be sainted—had as they went about their daily, worshipful lives. Lives that ROSALÍA found to be fascinating, telling Zane Lowe during her Apple Music interview about the record, “There’s all these stories about saints. I was trying to pull from all these crazy, amazing stories about saints from all around the world.” She then recounted, “I started reading hagiographies. Just reading, reading, reading, reading [much like Florence Welch at the Warburg Institute while working on Everybody Scream]. And I just tried to understand where did they come from, which was the language that would be, um, spoken there. What was the story behind… so there was a lot of women that were extremely interesting to me that they were nuns, they were poets, and I was like, ‘Okay, I’m gonna read about them, I’m gonna read what they actually wrote, I’m gonna, uh, try to explain these stories.’” However abstractly her “explanations” might come across to listeners.
“Divinize” is one such prime instance, with the dramatic, almost Massive Attack-sounding musical backing complementing ROSALÍA’s angelic vocals as she sings, “Through my body, you can see the light/Bruise me up, I’ll eat all of my pride/I know that I was made to divinize/Outside me, inside me.” While the song offers a mix of English and Spanish lyrics, it’s that line about being able to see “the light” through one’s body that speaks to the Leonard Cohen influence on one of the key concepts behind the record. As ROSALÍA told Lowe, “Leonard is a big inspiration… I love that he used to say, which I would repeat a lot while I was making the album, he used to say, ‘Forget your perfect offering, there is a crack in everything. That’s how the light gets in.’ And I think that I wanted the light to get in. And I wanted it to be called Lux. How to make more space for the light to get in.” Lana Del Rey would certainly tend to agree, having been inspired by Cohen for her own song (from Did You Know That There’s a Tunnel Under Ocean Blvd) called “Kintsugi” (not to mention another called “Let the Light In”). As for ROSALÍA calling it Lux (especially since Charli XCX-type listeners might automatically assume it to mean “luxe”), some probably questioned why not Luz, the Spanish word for “light.” Well, because, in Latin, “light” is “lux”—and Latin is the language far more rooted in ancient religiosity than Spanish. And yes, at one time, Latin was the most unifying language. If one can call the Roman Empire forcing roughly fifty modern-day countries to speak their language “unifying.” Not to mention foisting their Christian religion on those territories that did not previously feel obliged to worship at said altar.
Much as Catholicism is foisted onto a child by a parent. Case in point, the abovementioned Madonna and her own father, Silvio Ciccone, who was very much a Catholic patriarch. Yet it was also seeing the piety and devotion of her mother, Madonna Fortin, that affected Madonna from an early age. This in addition to attending Catholic elementary schools where she was taught by stern, severe nuns. Despite their penchant for corporal punishment, Madonna stated after she became famous that if she hadn’t become a pop singer, she would have been a nun (“I saw nuns as superstars. When I was growing up, I went to a Catholic school, and the nuns, to me, were these superhuman, beautiful, fantastic people”). In a similar parallel, ROSALÍA mentioned to Lowe that if she weren’t a singer, she’d like to be a scholar of theology. Lux served as her “reason” for being able to essentially lock herself inside for a year (though during the pandemic might have a more apt time to do so) and study the things she wanted to. The saints she wanted to. And a wide array of them far outside the purview of Christianity.
“Porcelana” is such a testament to that wide range, for it is inspired by the Japanese teacher, poet and monk Ryōnen Gensō, who scarred her own face to gain acceptance among the monks at a monastery, destroying her “womanly” appearance in order to be seen as the equal of the other monks, and therefore get closer to God. So it is that ROSALÍA sings one of the verses in Japanese, which translates to, “I’ll throw away my good looks/Before you ruin them/Do you think I’m a weirdo?/It’s a gift I was born with/I’m the Queen of Chaos/Because God decided.”
Before switching to Japanese, however, ROSALÍA begins the song in her native tongue, declaring, “Mi piel es fina/De porcelana/Rota en la Esquina/Mi piel es fina/De porcelana/Y de ella emana/Luz que ilumina/O ruina divina/El placer anestesia mi dolor/El dolor anestesia mi placer” (“My skin is fine/Like porcelain/Broken at the corner/My skin is fine/Like porcelain/And from it emanates/Light that illuminates/Or divine ruin/Pleasure numbs my pain/Pain numbs my pleasure”). Channeling the “vibe” she feels is coming from Ryōnen Gensō, Latin also makes its necessary appearance, with ROSALÍA repeating, “Ego sum nihil, ego sum lux mundi” (“I am nothing, I am the light of the world”). The subsequent appearance of English on the track then rounds it out to four different languages spoken, a personal best for the album.
What’s more, the divine-sounding choir vocals that punctuate the vibrant, upbeat music of the song’s denouement do lead one to believe that maybe, just maybe, they’re getting closer to God. But that feeling is followed by the gut-punch of “Mio Cristo Piange Diamanti,” the song that concludes the “First Movement” of the album. And the only song on the record to stick to one language: Italian, certamente. Drawing inspiration from the friendship between Santa Clara di Assisi and San Francesco di Assisi, the former being one of the first followers of the latter, ROSALÍA is determined to get across the powerfulness of their connection. And so, depending on how one sees it, the opening verse could either be directed at St. Clara from St. Francis or from St. Francis to St. Clara as ROSALÍA sweetly sings, “Sei l’uragano più bello/Che io abbia mai visto/Il migliore dei dolmen/Si alzerebbe per te” (“You’re the most beautiful hurricane/I’ve ever seen/The best of dolmens/It would rise for you”).
At around the two-minute-fifty-six-second mark, the controlled sound of the music gives way to a poignant barrage of violins as ROSALÍA forcefully delivers the lines, “Quanti pugni ti hanno dato/Che avrebbero dovuto essere abbracci?/E quanti abbracci hai dato/Che avrebbero potuto essere pugni?/Mio caro amico/L’amore che non si sceglie e non si lascia cadere/Mio caro amico/Con te, la gravità è graziosa/E la grazia è grave” (“How many punches have they given you/That should have been hugs?/And how many hugs have you given/That could have been punches?/My dear friend/The love that is not chosen and is not let go of/My dear friend/With you, gravity is graceful/And grace is grave”). Singing this final verse in her most operatic-sounding voice, it’s apparent that she wasn’t lying to Lowe when she said that she was also listening to a lot of Maria Callas around the time of recording (along with such titans of classic music as Bach).
And, as though to further prove that Callas was being channeled (in addition to the spirit of the saints and perhaps even Dios Herself), ROSALÍA then transitions her listeners into the “Second Movement” of Lux, with “Berghain” to kick it off. Although, in the past, many a “suit at the label” would have advised her against releasing such a “cracked out,” “all over the map” offering, it’s apparent that ROSALÍA is in touch with the average human mind of today to have opted for this track as the first “unveiling” from Lux. For it is almost like a mirror of the veritable smorgasbord of sounds and images culled from the far recesses of the internet—and so why not add Bjork and Yves Tumor (de facto, Mike Tyson) to the beautiful “jumble” of it all?
When Lowe asked ROSALÍA if the single was, in fact, named after the illustrious Berlin nightclub, she replied, “I think that I’ve always had the desire to go to that club, but I never dared to. But it’s always been there, Berghain, Berghain, and then Berghain means ‘group of trees in the forest,’ and I feel like we all kind of have these labyrinths in our heads, [this] forest of thoughts that you can get lost in… [again, it feels like she could be talking about the internet itself as that “forest”]. So it’s like Berghain can be your mind, it’s your mind, it’s everybody’s mind.” So, a hive mind? That would be a fitting connection to make considering that religion can so often cause such a phenomenon among the masses. In this sense, it can become like a “ladrón de paz” (“thief of peace”). A poetic phrase that ROSALÍA uses to commence her next song, “La Perla,” featuring Yahritza y Su Esencia.
Out of all the songs on the record, it’s the one that feels like it has the least to do with something “divine.” Unless one frames it through the lens of ROSALÍA talking about someone devilish. Someone she keeps sarcastically referring to as “a gem” (for “la perla” means “pearl”). Needless to say, the presumption is that the track could be “loosely” spurred by her still-recent breakup with Rauw Alejandro. The two were together for about three years, announcing their engagement in March of 2023, only to call the whole thing off in July of 2023. And while rumors of infidelity were kiboshed by Alejandro, there are plenty of allusions to it on “La Perla,” with ROSALÍA deriding the source of her contempt in the chorus, “La decepción local/Rompecorazones nacional/Un terrorista emocional/El mayor desastre mundial/Es una perla, nadie se fía/Es una perla, una de mucho cuidao” (“The local disappointment/National heartbreaker/An emotional terrorist/The biggest global disaster/He’s a gem, nobody trusts him/He’s a gem, one to be very careful with.” So while ROSALÍA might have told The Guardian, “I’m tiring of seeing people referencing celebrities, and celebrities referencing other celebrities [*cough cough* Taylor]. I’m really much more excited about saints,” it’s also apparent she’s excited about “cached meaning.”
One supposes, however, that at least trying to conceal a breakup album within an album about religious ecstasy and finding “the light” even when things are at their darkest is more innovative even than going the “totally opposite spectrum” route of what Lily Allen did with West End Girl, instead getting hyper-nitty gritty about all the lurid details of her heartbreak. For ROSALÍA to cope, though, she seemed to be telling the truth when she said, “It comes much easier when you let it come to you and make the space to try to erase yourself and disappear.” This as opposed to more purposefully mining one’s emotional pain. As Shakira also did with Las Mujeres Ya No Lloran (Women No Longer Cry, a sentiment that ROSALÍA is obviously on board with if Lux is an indication), an album that served, in many ways, as a direct hit against her now ex-husband, Gerard Piqué, who famously cheated on her with a younger woman named Clara. So it is that Piqué’s specter is all over tracks like “Te Felicito,” which, incidentally, features Rauw Alejandro, and finds Shakira sardonically congratulating her ex for being such a good actor, singing a chorus that translates in English to, “Congratulations, you act so well/Of that I have no doubt/Keep going with your role/That show suits you.”
So while ROSALÍA can claim all she wants that Lux is purely about saints, following up “La Perla” with a title like “Mundo Nuevo” feels pointed. As if to say she is living in a new world now that she’s unburdened by the shackles of having a boyfriend. Indeed, as though to mimic the sentiments of both that recent Vogue article and Julia Fox’s overall take on men, ROSALÍA told The New York Times’ Popcast of “La Perla,” “Faith in masculinity is lost. That’s what we will say” (again, something that West End Girl also made clear of late). The interviewer then probed, “So you’re surrounding yourself with female saints.” ROSALÍA confirms, “Oh yes. Celibacy.” Indeed, it’s hardly a coincidence that she should retreat into the lives of female saints after the dissolution of such a significant relationship, for many of them were nuns that did take a vow of celibacy. And perhaps ROSALÍA just isn’t seeing the value of giving her time to a man in that way right now.
Thus, with “Mundo Nuevo,” ROSALÍA pivots back toward the theme of renouncing “fleshly delights” while offering a modern take on La Niña de los Peines’ recording of “Quisiera Yo Renegar (Petenera).” And, obviously, considering ROSALÍA’s flamenco roots, it makes sense for her to want to rework a song from a woman who is considered the most significant and influential flamenco singer of the twentieth century. In the twenty-first, it’s undeniably ROSALÍA. And game recognizes game. The simple lyrics easily lend themselves to a spiritual interpretation, with ROSALÍA crooning, “Ya-ya, ah, ah, ah/Quisiera/Quisiera yo renegar/Ah-ah, ah-ah, ah-ah/Ah-ay/Y yo quisiera renegar/De este mundo por entero/Volver de nuevo a habitar/Madre de mi corazón/Volver de nuevo a habitar/Por ver si en un mundo nuevo/Tal vez si en un mundo nuevo, oh, ay/Encontraba más verdad” (“I wish/I wish I could renounce/Ah-ah, ah-ah, ah-ah/Ah-ay/And I wish I could renounce/This whole world/To return to live again/Mother of my heart/To return to live again/To see if in a new world/Perhaps if in a new world, oh, ay/I would find more truth”).
“Nuevo Mundo” then transitions seamlessly into “De Madrugá” (meaning “Early Morning”), which perhaps stands out the most, sonically speaking, on the album because it’s the only track with Pharrell Williams on it as a co-producer. Tying into the theme of wanting to find more truth, “De Madrugá” finds ROSALÍA once again switching to another language, this time Ukrainian (a nod to the song’s inspiration, Saint Olga of Kiev), as she announces, “I don’t seek revenge, revenge seeks me/I don’t seek revenge.” It’s ROSALÍA’s ironic nod to the fact that Olga was a big revenge seeker, wiping out an entire people—the Drevlians—after a few of them killed her husband. And yes, the notion of not seeking revenge, but instead forgiving people for their sins is, of course, one of the most basic Christian tenets of all. Unlike, say, subjugating an entire people, as “Saint” Olga did. But since she tried to convert so many to the Christian cause, she was inducted into the sainthood. Go figure.
And no, she probably wouldn’t have minded the idea of God “stalking” her, as it is said on “Dios Es un Stalker.” A feeling that listeners will surely come away with when hearing ROSALÍA’s “POV take” on how God sees humans—humans designed to be possessed by “the spirit,” as it were. And God is an indefatigable spirit when it comes to his pursuit of new followers, as made evident by ROSALÍA’s chorus, “Detrás de ti voy/Yo que siempre espero que vengan a mí/No me gusta hacer intervención divina/Pero a mi baby hoy lo voy a stalkear/Pa’ poderlo enamorar” (“I’m behind you/I who always wait for them to come to me/I don’t like to intervene divinely/But today I’m going to stalk my baby/So I can make him fall in love”).
The “on the hunt/on the prowl” sound of the music (co-produced by ROSALÍA, Noah Goldstein and Sir Dylan a.k.a. Dylan Wiggins) also correlates perfectly to such “godly” sentiments as, “Quiero a mi manera/Aquí y a donde sea/Mi silencio golpea/Dueña del mundo y de las ideas/Todo el mundo me quiere de su lao/Tengo el buzón explotao/Vivo en las nubes, arriba/Y el diablo pressed, apretao/Me encanta hacer carreras con el tiempo/A ver cuál de los dos llega antes a ti/No soy una zorra de un momento/Soy el laberinto del que no puedes salir/Detrás de ti voy” (“I want my way/Here and wherever/My silence strikes/Owner of the world and ideas/Everyone wants me on their side/My mailbox is overflowing/I live in the clouds, up above/And the devil pressed, squeezed/I love racing against time/To see which of us gets to you first/I’m not a slut of a moment [a.k.a. a one-night stand]/I’m the labyrinth you can’t escape/I’m following you”). Naturally, there are some who would view ROSALÍA attempting—even if tongue-in-cheekly—to get into God’s “headspace” as sacrilege, but it’s hardly the first time she’s come under fire for things she’s said. Or, in more recent months, the things she hasn’t said, with a backlash against her building over her silence on the genocide in Palestine (this due in large part to Spanish designer Miguel Adrover publicly announcing his refusal to work with her or “any artist who doesn’t publicly support Palestine”).
So yes, talk about the public going for “the jugular.” As ROSALÍA also must on the following track, called, what else, “La Yugular.” A song that “Dios Es un Stalker” “fades into” via the rhythmic drum beats that kick off “La Yugular.” Inspired, in part by the trees that are cemented over by sidewalks in Los Angeles, as well as Rabia Basri, the beloved Iraqi poet and mystic (who is also mentioned in the liner notes of Lux by way of her quote, “Ninguna mujer pretendió ser Dios” [“No woman ever claimed to be God”]), ROSALÍA speaks to the interconnectedness of everything (another Spirituality 101 kind of thought), relating the micro to the macro and vice versa as she sings, “Yo quepo en el mundo y el mundo cabe en mí/Yo ocupo el mundo y el mundo me ocupa a mí/Yo quepo en un haiku y un haiku ocupa un país/Un país cabe en una astilla, una astilla ocupa la galaxia entera/La galaxia entera cabe en una gota de saliva…/Un pintalabios ocupa el cielo/El cielo es la espina, una espina ocupa un continente/Y un continente no cabe en Él, pero Él cabe en mi pecho/Y mi pecho ocupa su amor, y en su amor me quiero perder” (I fit in the world/And the world fits in me/I occupy the world/And the world occupies me/I fit in a haiku/And a haiku occupies a country/A country fits in a splinter/A splinter occupies the entire galaxy/The entire galaxy fits in a drop of saliva…/A lipstick holds the sky/The sky is the thorn/A thorn holds a continent/And a continent doesn’t fit in Him/But He fits in my chest/And my chest holds/His love/And in His love I want to lose myself”).
Giving another nod to Rabia Basri, there’s also a moment when, singing in Arabic, ROSALÍA elevates the motif of religious devotion—devotion to God and the cosmic universe—by pronouncing, “For you I would destroy the heavens, for you I would demolish hell, no promises, no threats.” The pièce de résistance of getting this message across about “breaking through to the other side”—whether that means a religious or cosmic breakthrough (which can often be interchangeable)—ROSALÍA wields an audio extract from Patti Smith’s 1976 interview in Stockholm, specifically the part where she says, “…seven heavens, big deal. I wanna see the eighth heaven, tenth heaven, thousandth heaven. You know, it’s like, break on through the other side it’s just like going through one door. One door isn’t enough. A million doors aren’t enough.” And with that “earth-shattering” statement, ROSALÍA then takes her listener into “Focu ‘Ranni,” one of three tracks that’s only available on the physical release of the album (which is why it appears as though there are only fifteen songs on the digital version). With this song being inspired by none other than Saint Rosalia, known as the patron saint of Palermo, it comes across as especially personal in that ROSALÍA was drawn to the story of Saint Rosalia because, as she told Billboard, “…she was supposed to get married and then she decided not to; she decided to dedicate her life to God. I thought that something in that was very powerful. I researched her story, and that’s why there’s some Sicilian thrown in that song. It was a challenge to sing in that language. That was a challenging song to do and to sing, but I feel grateful that it exists.”
Obviously, one of the reasons it might have been so challenging is because of how much Saint Rosalia’s decision aligns with ROSALÍA’s own to sidestep getting married to Rauw Alejandro. Hence, the resonance of her lyrics, “Ya yo me solté la coleta/Quería ir de blanco y fui de violeta/La arena que en tus manos la sujetas/Resbala de tus puños si la aprietas/Mejor hablar/Ahora que/Callarme para siempre/Y puedo decir/Que estoy en paz/Por mi lao/No seré tu mitad/Nunca de tu propiedad/Seré mía/Y de mi libertad” (“I’ve already let my hair down/I wanted to wear white, but I wore violet/The sand you hold in your hands/Slips from your fists if you clench it/Better to speak/Now than/Be silent forever/And I can say/That I’m at peace/On my side/I won’t be your other half/Never your property/I’ll be mine/And my own freedom”). ROSALÍA then delivers her coup de grâce of a Sicilian outro with, “Tu/U me focu ‘ranni/Mi jittaiu nta lu nenti/Pi nun pèrdiri a libbirtà/E l’amure senza liggi/È l’unicu c’accittassi/Mi jettu nta lu nenti/Prima d’abbruciarimi” (“You/My big fire/I threw myself into nothingness/To not lose your freedom/And love without law/He is the only one who would accept/I throw myself into nothing/Before I burn myself”). Though a metaphorical image, the idea of a woman burning herself also harkens back to Ryōnen Gensō on “Porcelana,” who scarred her own face to gain the acceptance of the monks at the monastery, de facto God Himself.
Another well-known saint, Teresa Sánchez de Cepeda Dávila y Ahumada, didn’t have to go to such trouble of physical self-harm—though she did decide to shed all trappings of the physical world. For, as her lengthy pre-saint name indicates, Saint Teresa of Ávila a.k.a. Saint Teresa of Jesus, was from a wealthy family. But, in lieu of enjoying the comforts of that standing, she gave it all up to become a nun. The slow jam that is “Sauvignon Blanc” (a song that already gives a nod to the erstwhile luxe life of Saint Teresa), thus, offers up a similar songwriting structure to “Dios Es un Stalker” in that ROSALÍA is speaking from the point of view of Teresa as she shrugs off her earthly delights, assuring, “Mi luz la prenderé/Con el Rolls Royce que quemaré/Sé que mi paz yo me ganaré/Cuando no quede na’, nada que perder/Ya no quiero perlas ni caviar/Tu amor será mi capital/Y ¿que más da? Si te tengo a ti/No necesito nada más/Sauvignon Blanc a tu lado/Mi futuro será dorado/Ya no tengo miedo del passado/Está en el fondo de mi copa de Sauvignon Blanc/En mi copa de Sauvignon Blanc/Mm-mm-mm-mm/A mi Dios escucharé/Mis Jimmy Choo yo las tiraré/Mi porcelana la dejaré caer/Y regalaré mi piano de pared/Estoy bien si estás tú/Si hoy estás tú” (“I’ll light my light/With the Rolls Royce I’ll burn/I know I’ll earn my peace/When there’s nothing left, nothing to lose/I don’t want pearls or caviar anymore/Your love will be my capital/And what does it matter? If I have you/I don’t need anything else/Sauvignon Blanc by your side/My future will be golden/I’m no longer afraid of the past/It’s at the bottom of my Sauvignon Blanc glass/In my Sauvignon Blanc glass/Mm-mm-mm-mm/I’ll listen to my God/I’ll throw away my Jimmy Choos/I’ll let my china fall/And I’ll give away my upright piano/I’m okay if you’re here/If you’re here today”).
As for the mention of “Rolls Royce,” this, too, feels like a nod to the relationship with Rauw Alejandro in that, yes, ROSALÍA does have the “RR” logo of the brand tattooed on the bottom of her foot (which she got in March of 2022). But when asked if it was, in fact, the Rolls logo, ROSALÍA said, “Or it could be something else,” before adding, “I told [Rauw], ‘I’m going to get your initial tatted because it’s also mine’” (ergo, the title of their 2023 EP together). In any case, she didn’t bother doing the whole tattoo thing for her rebound, Jeremy Allen White. Though the two did serve their purpose as one of @cigfluencers’ wet dream couples.
But that was before ROSALÍA ostensibly started modeling her life after these female saints, celibacy-wise, with Joan of Arc, naturally, being a “featured player” on the album, even if the song about her, “Jeanne,” is yet another that’s only on the physical edition of Lux. And yes, Madonna, too, has had a longtime fascination with Jeanne d’Arc, not only calling a 2015 track from Rebel Heart “Joan of Arc,” but also singing 2019’s “Dark Ballet” from her “depraved” perspective. ROSALÍA also goes that route, eventually speaking French (or “in tongues,” to those that don’t) with the concluding verse, “Mon père/Je ne serai ni un homme/Non plus une femme/C’est mon cœur qui me nomme/Si je vous quitte/Si on m’invite/À rendre les armes/Sans rendre l’âme” (“My father/I shall be neither a man/Nor a woman [or, as Madonna put it on “Dark Ballet,” “I can dress like a boy/I can dress like a girl”]/It is my heart that calls me/If I leave you/If I am invited/To surrender my weapons/Without giving up my soul”).
Because to give up one’s soul would be to transform into something like a “Novia Robot” [“Robot Girlfriend”], the track that begins the “Fourth Movement” of Lux, and also happens to be the third and final one not included on the digital version. For this track, ROSALÍA speaks in Spanish as usual, with a dash of Mandarin and Hebrew thrown in to pay homage to the women she references here: Sun Bu’er and Miriam. The former, per ROSALÍA’s account, “dedicated her life to becoming a teacher of the Tao.” And yes, like another woman previously mentioned on the album, she felt obliged to “destroy her face.” Though, in this instance, “to be able to travel safely.” With ROSALÍA also adding, “She had a partner, she had a family, but she decided she wanted to dedicate her life to spirituality. It was so bold and courageous.” To help heighten that sense of boldness and courageousness is Miriam, “this figure who led an entire people and was a rebellious woman and considered close to the idea of sainthood in Judaism.” So it is that ROSALÍA does some “perspective singing” again, announcing in Hebrew, “I was born to rebel/And I rebel to be reborn/If pressure makes diamonds, why don’t we all shine?” But ROSALÍA posited to Lowe that maybe there is a pressure “from above” that makes humans (or at least some of them) shine/become a better version of themselves because of “God” or “the light.”
As for those who don’t, perhaps they can take comfort in “La Rumba del Perdón” (“The Rumba of Forgiveness”) featuring Estrella Morente and Sílvia Pérez Cruz. And, although it’s a song that ROSALÍA confessed to being started six years ago on Popcast, it still maintains the overarching theme of religious passion via its dramatic sound and lyrics that accent the push-and-pull nature of wanting to sin. This especially evident on the irreverent final verse, “El que tiene alma de santo, pero sigue pecando/Cuando has mentido por mentir o has mentido por tu verdad/Cuando has querido más de lo que Dios te ha querido dar/Anudar y desanudar, desnudarse y desnudar/Para hacerlo como se debe, tres cosas necesitarás/Fuego en las manos, ternura en los ojos y a mí presente en el lugar/Técnicamente eso sería un trio/Pero si solo miro, no contará” (“He who has the soul of a saint but still sins/When you’ve lied for the sake of lying or lied for the sake of your truth/When you’ve wanted more than God has given you/To tie and untie, to undress and undress/To do it properly, you’ll need three things/Fire in your hands, tenderness in your eyes and me there/Technically that would be a trio/But if I just watch, it won’t count”).
The “sauciness” of “La Rumba del Perdón” gives way to the more stripped down “Memória” featuring Carminho. It’s the latter’s presence on the track that spurred its mostly Portuguese lyrics, though there is a single verse where both ROSALÍA and Carminho sing in Spanish together: “Siempre que me acuerdo de algo/Siempre lo recuerdo un poco diferente/Y, sea como sea, ese recuerdo/Siempre es verdad en mi mente/Y si mi alma se derrama/Y la falta de pasado es el olvido/Cuando muera solo pido/No olvidar lo que he vivido” (“Whenever I remember something/I always remember it a little differently/And however that memory is/It’s always true in my mind/And if my soul spills out/And the lack of a past is oblivion/When I die, I only ask/Not to forget what I’ve lived”).
Heart-wrenching in tone and subject, “Memória” might have been the natural fit to close out Lux. But ROSALÍA isn’t done batting at her listeners heartstrings like a cat with a ball of yarn. So it is that she concludes the record with “Magnolias,” another ballad, albeit one punctuated with choral vocals that enter the fray around the one-minute-forty-eight-second mark. But it’s really around the two-minute-twenty-second mark, when the choir gets its “You Can’t Always Get What You Want”-sounding moment, that it really starts to send chills down one’s spine. Particularly since the lines they’re singing are as follows: “Dios desciende y yo asciendo/Nos encontramos en el medio” (God descends and I ascend/We meet in the middle”).
As a rumination, of sorts, on her funeral, ROSALÍA is keen on making it a joyful event, echoing the aphorism of one of her favorite authors, Manuel Molina, who said, “Let no one cry the day I die;/It’s more beautiful to sing,/Even if the song comes with pain.” That “Magnolias” does. And it’s a beautiful kind of pain that transfers to the listener. In fact, “transference” is occurring throughout the entire album. So it’s no wonder, ROSALÍA admitted to Lowe, “I don’t know if something like this could be repeated.”
The time and effort that went into its creation only added to ROSALÍA constantly missing deadlines, with the pressure ramping up for her to turn the album in on time. This prompting her to say, “I was about to have a mental breakdown” after finishing it. And no, surprisingly not because of the stories she was reading, but because of the record label’s deadlines it in. And yet, ROSALÍA also stated, “I knew this album had to come out in this year.” Florence Welch had a similar feeling while making Everybody Scream, remarking, “There was basically an urgency to this record. Like it, kind of like it, um, it like came out of me in this furious burst. And it’s one of those records where, if I hadn’t put it out now, it never would have come out.”
Thus, ROSALÍA gave herself the final push so that the record would come out this year, organizing everything so that, within about four days, the album was recorded with the London Symphony Orchestra (thus, because of all that “legwork” [or “divine research,” writing and arranging work], beating out Lily Allen’s sixteen-day creation of West End Girl). Some might call that divine; others, just a matter of sheer will. But perhaps the two facets—divinity and will—have coalesced to bring listeners what can be described as one of the most unique, brilliant and insane “pop operas” ever made.
Genna Rivieccio
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