Initially, this work may look closer to a difficult university examination rather than a new popular music album by a musician whose last hit was a collaboration with a global K-pop star. Divided across 4 separate parts and sung in 13 languages, this is a breathtaking orchestral-influenced album exploring female mystique, spiritual transcendence, and corporal change, often by way of the prism of different saintly figures. The dissolution of a relationship—a theme handled with raw honesty elsewhere—soars upwards here, buoyed by the lush presence of a full symphony orchestra and work from an award-winning composer among a vast list of contributors. Its sheer ambition alone makes the efforts of other pop stars appear quite modest.
That this album manages to avoid dry academic posturing feels nothing short of miraculous, with complete praise belonging to the artist. While this is not her first album to alchemize historical sounds with modern styles, the ambitions are far greater here, and the balancing act far more precarious. What truly raises this fourth album, beyond its multilayered melodies, rich arrangements, and inherent drama, is an essential spirit of joy. Similar to the iconic Björk at her peak, you find a wondrous quality to the vocalist's voice which sweeps the listener into its tornado. When she is breaking hearts in two, you nevertheless want to be alongside her through the journey.
That exuberant energy shines clearly on the stirring piano-led ballad about Saint Clare. It luxuriates in a string-drenched melancholy over more than four moments. Then, all the music drops away, and we hear a spontaneous laugh and a declaration prior to a comically exaggerated string surge thuds down like comedic impact. The track then shifts to the frenetic single driven by galloping orchestration, an imposing choral group, and a cameo role from the artist Björk.
"The charm with Lux is that the listener never quite know—or even want to predict—where you will go to next."
Almost every song ends at a completely different point from where it started. A track explores the transient nature of celebrity with a delicate symphony only to collapsing in electronic chaos. Another, a song echoing the artist's earlier trap-infused work starts out dark and sinister, featuring prowling vocals, until fluttering flamenco rhythms and a heavenly choir enter to soften its jagged edges.
Another crucial balancing act on the album involves straddling the gap of radical experimentation and broad accessibility. It is little coincidence that it has become the artist's highest-charting release to break into the upper reaches of major markets: its heart contains a suite of utterly undeniable pop songs. A song sung entirely in English builds around a refrain that feels to collect more and more infectious melodies while it spins skyward. This feat gets echoed on another powerful ballad that grows and contracts, weaving layered tunes like an intricate tapestry.
Lux represents popular music on a maximalist scale, a hungry reach for high artistry amid of looming artificial sameness. It rejects solipsism in favor of glorious elevation, crafting a dramatic drama that skillfully manages its own built-in ridiculousness. It is an abundant source of hidden gems that takes patience to fully explore but doesn't seem like hard work. Where other major pop albums of 2025 felt like a meager meal, this record offers a lavish feast at which the guests at the table, some tipsy on sacred wine, flutter from conversations about historical figures, the profound feeling of soul-shattering grief, and common gossip about hopeless partners. In essence, it's a modern-day musical from music's most restlessly inventive practitioner.
Lars is a holistic wellness coach and writer passionate about crystal healing and mindfulness practices.