Rosalía Vila Tobella is weary of contemporary pop music being reduced to mere tabloid material, where songs are laced with insinuations about personal feuds and betrayals. “It’s becoming tedious to watch how everyone seems to be name-dropping celebrities, who in turn talk about other celebrities,” she remarks. “I find myself more drawn to the stories of saints,” she adds.
At 33, the Catalan singer and music producer has crafted her ambitious fourth album, Lux, which explores the narratives of numerous female saints, influenced by “female mysticism and spirituality” and the paradox of how lives marred by murder, materialism, and dissent have often led to sainthood. Rosalía lists several examples. Her dark, operatic new track, Berghain, is inspired by Hildegard of Bingen, a 12th-century German nun now as frequently referenced as Madonna in circles of experimental female artists. “She was afflicted by visions that struck her mind intensely. Then there’s Vimala, who was both a poet and a prostitute, eventually canonized due to her groundbreaking contributions to the Therīgāthā,” a collection of ancient Buddhist poems by female monks, Rosalía explains.
She continues with the story of Saint Olga of Kyiv from the 10th century, who converted to Christianity. “Her sainthood was recognized because of her success in converting many to her faith. Yet, she was also a murderer – avenging her husband’s death by killing many men. It’s fascinating how different cultures and religions perceive sainthood,” Rosalía observes.
Rosalía suggests she could have been an academic; if not a pop icon, she might have pursued studies in theology or philosophy. (Her breakout album, 2018’s El Mal Querer, was actually her thesis for her flamenco degree and uniquely combined academic recognition with glowing reviews from music critics like those at Pitchfork.) During our conversation in a London hotel in mid-October, she exudes an almost saint-like aura herself, with minimal makeup accentuating her long, dark hair, dressed modestly in a long-sleeved pale grey dress. Speaking softly and thoughtfully, she has her assistant nearby for translation assistance, though she manages quite well on her own. Her latest album, Lux, might initially seem to confront romantic exes and critics, but deeper listening reveals its roots in the stories of the saints she meticulously researched.
Lux, an 18-track masterpiece, features lyrics in 13 different languages, includes performances by two choirs, Patti Smith reciting a poem, collaborations with Björk and the London Symphony Orchestra, and draws additional inspiration from Ukrainian-born Brazilian novelist Clarice Lispector and French philosopher Simone Weil. The album moves away from the South American club influences of her 2022 album, Motomami, focusing instead on her classical flamenco training, which she has previously blended with avant-garde electronic production. Despite past accusations of cultural appropriation – flamenco is traditionally linked with the Andalusian Romani community, and reggaeton with Latin American and Caribbean cultures – Lux feels like a deliberate challenge, showcasing Rosalía’s expertise across various musical styles, almost as if daring critics and rivals to question her versatility. Shortly after our meeting, she even had a halo dyed into her hair.
While composing Lux, Rosalía kept a world map on her wall, marking the locations of each saint’s story. “It felt like assembling a massive puzzle,” she shares. “There was so much more I wanted to include. My love is vast and boundless, and I tried to incorporate as much as possible to ensure everyone felt welcomed by the album.” Some might wonder about her choice to include songs in Hebrew and Arabic; though her publicist advised against political questions, Rosalía clarifies that these references are purely spiritual, nodding to figures like the Sufi mystic Rabia and the prophet Miriam.
For Rosalía, performing is about transcending oneself. “It’s most rewarding when you can cease to be yourself. Seeing artists like Nick Cave embody something entirely other – I deeply admire that. In today’s world, where divisions run deep, I believe it’s crucial to embrace the stories of others and transform them into music as best I can. It’s my love for the other that fuels an album like this,” she explains.
What also enables Rosalía to create such a unique album is her distinct status. Despite any criticisms about her approach, the meticulous research and flawless execution she brings to her work are undeniable. “I’m constantly seeking new learning opportunities,” she notes. While she’s picking up French and German on Duolingo, she spent a year working with native speakers to perfect the translations for Lux, collaborating with artists like Charlotte Gainsbourg and Justice for the French lyrics; she also resumed piano lessons, having last studied at the age of 16. Her keen grasp of pop culture is evident too, from filming a role in HBO’s Euphoria to modeling for Calvin Klein and being photographed delivering a bouquet of cigarettes to Charli XCX’s birthday. Her recent Motomami tour was a spectacle of voyeurism and media critique, complete with portrait-mode screens that mirrored the omnipresence of smartphones in our lives. Rosalía has mastered the art of celebrity, a status that afforded her three years to craft an album about divine transcendence and redemption, no expense spared.
She estimates she produced 97% of Lux by herself. “It’s probably the most challenging album I’ve ever attempted,” she admits. Created in Los Angeles, far from her home in Barcelona, the isolation was difficult. “But such solitude is necessary for this kind of work. I see myself as quite sociable, but to achieve something like this, my days need to be very simple, focused solely on the project.” For Rosalía, the creative process involves lying in bed, letting ideas flow naturally. “It’s easier when you let it come to you, making space to erase yourself and disappear,” she explains.
While Rosalía would prefer to immerse herself in the mystical aspects of Lux, it’s clear the album also deals with the aftermath of a relationship breakdown. I was advised not to ask about personal relationships; however, in 2023, Rosalía and Puerto Rican reggaeton artist Rauw Alejandro called off their engagement, just months after releasing a romantic joint EP. In her poignant new song La Perla, she decries an “emotional terrorist.” On another track, Focu ‘Ranni, she opts to speak rather than stay silent forever, possibly echoing a line from El Mal Querer’s Que No Salga la Luna, which references the 13th-century Occitan story Flamenca about an abusive groom: “If anyone here objects, may they not raise their voice.” She also mentions a saint, la santuzza Rosalia, who called off her wedding to live as a hermit.
This parallel might explain Rosalía’s fascination with women who transcended their situations, though she won’t confirm it. A master at controlling her narrative, she avoids direct answers when asked if seeking spiritual guidance inspired Lux: “Certainly, like all people do.” After a pause that neither of us rushes to fill, she shares more about her personal journey.
At 16, she underwent vocal cord surgery to repair damage from singing without formal training. “I couldn’t speak for a month, which was an odd kind of fasting from speech, followed by a year of vocal rehabilitation,” she recounts. “It took many years before I felt truly capable of using my voice as an instrument.”
At 19, she embarked on the 500-mile Camino de Santiago pilgrimage across northern Spain alone, proving her resilience and independence. “Someone in my family doubted I could complete it because I wasn’t physically prepared. But along the way, I met incredible people who helped me, and I learned that if I could do this, I could do anything.” A decade later, the pandemic found her isolated in Florida for two years as she worked on Motomami.
For Rosalía, faith has been a guiding force through these challenges. “I pray every night before sleep,” she shares. “It’s a deeply personal connection with God.” Her devoutly Catholic grandmother would take young Rosalía and her sister Pilar to church. “I remember the ritual, the beauty of everyone joining hands, regardless of who they were next to, and the singing. I cherish the communion that occurs when people gather, focusing on something greater than themselves.” She reads the Bible as often as possible, especially fond of the Gospel of Matthew. “I think it’s pure poetry,” she says, comparing biblical verses to rap lyrics.
Rosalía doesn’t aim for perfect reverence. In her song Divinize, she likens her spine to a string of rosary beads; in Reliquia, she reflects on how she snipped a lock of her hair for a fan each night during the Motomami tour. God Is a Stalker is written from a divine first-person view, and the album’s mix of languages hints at a godlike omnipresence. In the whimsical yet biting Novia Robot (“Robot Girlfriend”), she criticizes men who desire submissive, unemotional partners, claiming she’s “hot for God.” She admits to second-guessing her use of religious symbolism. “But that’s part of the process. The beauty of art lies in posing questions, often finding more questions than answers, but it’s crucial to maintain a playful attitude to foster creativity,” she explains.
It’s likely that Rosalía will face further criticism for Lux. Some fans expressed disappointment after she told Le Monde that she disconnected from her phone during recording sessions, which made her less aware of ongoing conflicts like those in Palestine and Ukraine. In response to a fashion designer who critiqued her silence on Palestine, she denounced the conflict, stating, “I don’t see how shaming ourselves is the best way to advance the cause of Palestinian freedom.” Other criticisms now seem just part of being in the public eye: a quick scroll through her social media reveals a surprising level of scrutiny and disapproval in the comments.
The essence of art is to lay everything out, to pose questions, and often to find more questions than answers
“I observe a lot of this cancel culture occurring generally online, for everyone,” she notes when asked if she feels misunderstood. “That always seems strange to me. I think we need a much greater culture of forgiveness. I wouldn’t shun a friend just because we have different views. And certainly, I always feel there’s so much more for me to learn and I strive to do better. But at the same time, I appreciate something Roland Barthes mentioned about the ‘anti-hero… who can bear contradiction without shame.’ We all embody contradictions. It’s unavoidable in a world as imperfect and contradictory as ours. So I try to stay focused on my mission, which is to create music from the most loving place possible.”
Much of the Spanish media started to criticize Rosalía when she introduced pop elements to traditional flamenco; she faced further backlash for the sexually explicit lyrics on Motomami, and for her provocative social media presence. There’s a certain expectation of decorum that women are supposed to adhere to, an expectation that the sanctified Lux seems to mock.
“I handle that by remembering who inspires me,” says Rosalía. “Irreverent women like Joan of Arc, Aretha Franklin, Nina Simone, Patti Smith, Cher – divas. They bear the burden… they endure. And that is my inspiration. What I admire about them is that they are unapologetic about their desires and their actions, their path. That’s a beacon for me – a lighthouse. Over time, ‘diva’ has developed a negative connotation. But nowadays, I don’t feel it carries the same meaning, and I celebrate women who are unapologetic and follow their own path.”
Fatima Clarke is a seasoned health reporter who bridges medical science with human stories. She writes with compassion, precision, and a drive to inform.
