Initially, this work could seem closer to a challenging scholarly quiz rather than the latest popular music record by a musician who just had a last single featured an international K-pop star. Split across four different parts and performed in 13 tongues, we have a dizzying classical-tinged opus that delves into female mystery, spiritual transcendence, and corporal change, frequently by way of the lens of various female saints. The end of a relationship—a theme treated with raw openness on another major 2025 album—is shot skyward on this record, supported by the lush presence of a major orchestra and work from an award-winning songwriter within an extensive list of contributors. Its sheer daring by itself makes the work of other pop stars appear rather small.
The fact that Lux manages to escape dry academic chin-stroking is nothing short of miraculous, with full credit belonging to the artist. While this is not the first time project to alchemize the past with the present, its ambitions feel far greater here, and the balancing act far more pronounced. What really raises this fourth release, beyond its complex melodies, dense arrangements, and engrained drama, proves to be an essential spirit of fun. Similar to the iconic artist during her height, you find a wondrous quality to the vocalist's voice which sweeps you up in its tornado. When she's tearing your heart in two, you nevertheless want to stay right there through the journey.
This exuberant spirit comes forth brightly on a stirring Italian ballad inspired by Saint Clare. It luxuriates in a string-drenched whirlpool over more than four minutes. Suddenly, all the music falls silent, to reveal there's a spontaneous giggle and a declaration before a hilariously exaggerated string surge crashes down like comedic impact. The track then shifts into the frenetic single driven by racing orchestration, an imposing choral group, and a cameo role from the artist herself.
"The charm with Lux lies in you never quite understand—nor want to predict—where it is going to next."
Almost every track finishes at a totally different point than where it began. One moment examines the transient trappings of celebrity over a delicate symphony before collapsing into digital chaos. Elsewhere, a song echoing her earlier trap-infused style begins out dark and sinister, featuring menacing beats, until sudden flamenco handclaps and a heavenly chorus arrive to smooth the song's jagged edges.
Another crucial balancing act on Lux involves navigating the gap between radical innovation and broad accessibility. It is no coincidence that the album has become her first work to crack the upper reaches of key markets: at its core a collection of utterly catchy hits. A song performed primarily in English builds around a chorus that feels to gather increasingly infectious hooks as it spins upward. This trick gets echoed by a different powerful track that grows and constricts, intertwining multiple tunes as an intricate tapestry.
Lux represents pop on a grand level, an ambitious reach for capital-A Art amid of looming artificial sameness. It eschews self-absorption in favor of sublime transcendence, crafting an over-the-top drama that skillfully controls its built-in ridiculousness. This is a deep source of buried gems that takes patience to completely explore but never feels like hard work. While some big pop albums of the year felt like a meager scraps, Lux is a sumptuous banquet where the characters at the table, some tipsy on holy wine, flutter between conversations about ancient saints, the galvanizing feeling of soul-shattering sadness, and common stories about useless men. In essence, it's a modern-day musical from music's most endlessly creative practitioner.
Lena is a Dutch travel writer and Amsterdam local who loves sharing hidden gems and practical advice for exploring the city.