Rosalía is a Witch, And Lux Is the Album That Proves It

By NOS.3 Editorial Team

Rosalía has always had a gift for transformation. She can turn tradition into provocation, heartbreak into choreography, and pop into pure concept. But with Lux, she takes that ability somewhere new — somewhere almost mystical. Lux is the album where she stops hinting at magic and fully leans into it. If she was experimenting before, now she’s conjuring.

And yes: Rosalía is a witch: playful, daring, and deeply human.

Rosalía hosted a listening party in Barcelona, wearing a custom Gucci dress for the occasion | Photo by Gucci

An Album Built for Deep Listening

Now, when music is often consumed in fragments, Lux asks for something rare: your full attention. It doesn’t seem to be designed for TikTok snippets or background noise. It’s an album to sit, headphones on, lights off, pulse steady.

Critics describe it as “opaque,” “meticulously crafted,” and “a new kind of pleasure in the age of AI.” But what stands out most is how confidently it refuses to hurry. The reward for slowing down is a world that unfolds slowly, richly, beautifully.

Cinematic, Orchestral, Monumental

Recorded with the London Symphony Orchestra and shaped by Pulitzer Prize–winning composer Caroline Shaw, Lux moves like a film score that escaped into the wild. Strings slash, choirs swell, electronic textures flicker. It’s emotional without being sentimental, grand without being heavy.

“Berghain,” featuring Björk and Yves Tumor, feels like a fever dream of knives, Verdi, and divine chaos. “Reliquia” slices a chamber quartet into electronic shards that pulse like a heartbeat. “De Madrugá” blends flamenco percussion with breathy whispers, turning intimacy into rhythm.

At times, Lux is oversized on purpose — theatrical, dramatic, opulent. And then, just when it gets too serious, Rosalía breaks the tension with a giggle, a whispered comment, a small human crack that lets in the light.

A Multilingual Spellbook

One of the album’s most striking elements is how she moves between more than a dozen languages: Arabic, German, Hebrew, Mandarin, Portuguese, Catalan, and more. Often, the transitions are so soft you barely notice them. It serves the point: Lux creates its own universe, and in that universe, language is fluid.

Religious and spiritual references appear everywhere, not as dogma, but as symbols she reshapes. She draws on the Bible, mystic texts, ancient chants, and Simone Weil. She sings of forbidden fruit, tongues of fire, divine light, broken faith, and rebirth. Lux, it’s world-building.

Between Heartbreak and Humor

Even with all its grandeur, Lux is surprisingly personal. Rosalía lets her guard down in unexpected ways. There are jokes hidden inside dramatic pauses. Tiny laughs. Studio chatter. Tender imperfections.

But there’s also a fundamental rupture.
Her breakup with Rauw Alejandro echoes through the album, especially in “La Perla,” where she calls out an “emotional terrorist” with the precision of someone who’s finally ready to reclaim the narrative. “Focu’ Rani” turns the moment before a cancelled wedding into something nearly sacred.

Throughout, you feel a woman sorting through devotion, exhaustion, curiosity, faith, and self-acceptance. Spirituality and self-possession walk hand in hand.

A New Kind of Pop Artist

If Motomami was a kaleidoscope (wild, hyperactive, full of play), Lux feels like the opposite: grounded, intentional, architectural. Rosalía’s classical training rises to the surface. Her pop instincts become sharper. And the witchcraft metaphor begins to make perfect sense.

What is a witch if not a woman who refuses to be simplified?

Who mixes symbols, rituals, languages, contradictions?

Who understands that reinvention is a kind of power?

Turn Off the Lights

Lux, which means light in Latin, is designed to be experienced. It’s bold, spiritual, funny, maximal, and surprisingly intimate. It’s Rosalía at her most self-assured and her most experimental.

She told fans to listen in a dark room with headphones.

She wasn’t being dramatic. She was being precise.

Because Lux isn’t just an album:

It’s a spell.

A sanctuary.

A moment of attention in a world that constantly steals it.

Rosalía is a witch.

And with Lux, she glows brighter than ever.