With lyrics in 13 languages across 18 tracks and nods to musical traditions from flamenco to opera, Rosalía’s new album Lux is an aural feast. Since its November 7 release, critics have debated whether it’s pop, contemporary classical, both or neither. Everyone agrees that its blend of global influences is central to its appeal; Lux currently sits atop Spotify’s streaming charts. The project’s contributors are notably international: Björk and Yves Tumor join the single “Berghain,” Yahritza y Su Esencia appears on “La Perla,” fado singer Carminho on “Mémoria,” and the London Symphony Orchestra provides much of the album’s backbone, conducted and arranged by Icelandic composer Daníel Bjarnason.
“It was a happy coincidence that I ended up working on this project,” says Bjarnason, whose classical background and work with artists like Sigur Rós position him well to move between genres. “I come from classical music, but I’ve worked in pop and electronic music and even jazz, so it’s easy for me to move from one world to the next. I understood the vocabulary that she was drawing on, but also the way she was incorporating it into her own language.”
Nearly a year ago Bjarnason flew to London and recorded the orchestral parts “this whole thing in about a week,” working in the studio daily with Rosalía and her collaborators. “She was very hands on,” he adds, “which is the most fun way to work with an artist.”
Below, Bjarnason talks about communicating with an orchestra, the global musical traditions on Lux, and the Icelandic fingerprint he brought to the album.
There’s a lot of chatter about the 13 languages—Ukrainian, Sicilian, Arabic, Mandarin—but your work as conductor relies on a different kind of communication. How do you “speak” to the orchestra?
What people see of conducting—the hand gestures—is like a sign language. Certain movements have certain meanings: the downbeat signals the pulse, different patterns indicate two, three or four. The conductor’s first job is to keep time like that. Beyond that is the interpretive aspect: you work with musicians, discuss sound, shaping and phrasing. There’s an interpretive dance, because the conductor interprets what they want in the music through movement. Conducting an orchestra is complicated and interesting because there’s a lot happening at once.
Is that a universal language?
The physical gestures are universal—the downbeat is down everywhere. There are cultural differences in how orchestras respond to dynamics, but written sheet music and the basic movements are broadly understood.
You’ve worked across many genres. What global influences and musical traditions appear on Lux?
A large part of the album draws on traditional music from Portugal and Spain—fado and flamenco—which isn’t my native ground, so I can’t speak to it with full authority, though I enjoyed participating. Other parts felt more familiar: for instance, “Mio Cristo piange diamanti” is written as an aria. If you know Italian opera, you can hear it—the form is like a scene in an opera rather than a pop song. It’s one of my favorite tracks: wonderful and beautiful in both lyrics and vocal delivery.
“Berghain” reminded me of Carl Orff’s Carmina Burana, with Baroque gestures bordering on Vivaldi—strings that are very forward. Overall, there’s a freedom of form unusual for a pop album. The songs aren’t strictly bound to verse-chorus-bridge structures; they’re more free-flowing, creating arcs that go in unexpected directions—an approach more common in contemporary classical music.
Being from Iceland, did your background leave a mark on Lux?
It’s hard to define an Icelandic sound, but people think of Sigur Rós, Björk or Jóhann Jóhannsson—qualities that are slow-moving, ethereal, roomy. I hate to describe it, because you mostly just recognize it when you hear it. I do think a bit of that aesthetic is on the album: a certain approach to orchestration that made me think, I know that sound. Part of it is an attitude of moving freely between musical worlds. Many musicians in Iceland switch between classical, rock and pop easily; there aren’t strict boxes. There’s an openness to incorporating many things, and in that way Lux shares that embracing quality.
Any genres you hope to explore next?
I love collaborating and I’m increasingly interested in electronic music. I’m gravitating toward hard techno—after a recent trip to Detroit and its techno history, I want to explore that more. I’m just dipping my toes in and think I’ll need guides to show me what’s happening where.
Anything listeners should look for—an easter egg or favorite sound?
Listen for the contrabass clarinet on the track “Porcelana.” It’s very prominent. That instrument is a huge clarinet that creates a distinctive rumbling sound—not something you hear on every pop album.