Anne Carson's ode to Rosalía, with a bitter aftertaste

Barcelona"I have a Rosalía hangover". This is how Canadian poet Anne Carson, winner of the 2026 Nobel Prize in Literature, begins the article On Rosalía, which was published in the magazine London Review of Books. In it, she describes a concert by the artist from Sant Esteve Sesrovires held in Chicago on June 20 as part of the Lux album tour. Carson describes very poetically the effects of the music but, above all, of Rosalía's magnetic presence on stage. She is fascinated by her power to move the audience. "With every intake of breath the whole audience, one by one, screamed as if she were running her fingernail down their spines," writes Carson. "How can someone manage to seduce twenty thousand people in this way every night, throughout a tour across who knows how many cities? I am incapable of it," explains the poet, who breaks down everything that fascinates her about Rosalía's voice.

"It is said that flamenco demands a mature voice; her voice, which still retains a certain adolescent luminosity, could go from being wonderful to miraculous in a few years. It rises above the insane sound of the sound system like a silver arrow shot into space; the people scream, and the voice soars, and they scream again, and it rises again," writes the author, who details the impact of Rosalía and the catharsis. "A few followers gather at the edge of the stage to touch her and cry, but the majority stay in their places. They remain standing and screaming. I repeat to myself: during the two hours the show lasts, each of these people (except for C. and me) remains standing and screaming without stopping. I had never heard a sound like it," writes the Nobel laureate, who also wonders if this reaction is because of everything the lyrics mean. She has no answer, because she has to follow them with the translation on the screen and only gets a partial view. Carson also considers how much reality there is in all of Rosalía's religious references: "She refers to God, but also to Christ, to sacrifice or to redemption. Does this religiosity have a real basis of faith? It is impossible for me to know, although I don't think anyone really cares," she concludes.

"Rosalía, at 33 years old, is an embodiment of feminine glamour and strength. She knows how to pout, pose, and parody her own seduction: this is the new feminism. It fascinates me. Unlike Björk, who disappears from femininity by delving into other species, Rosalía sinks deeper into femininity itself, piercing it downwards," writes Carson.

"We demand a touch of heroism from our artists. We want them to sacrifice themselves until their last breath. No one can sing so loudly, and yet, she does. No one can dance with such intensity and for so long, but she continues. No one can survive being loved with such vehemence; it is we who are left squeezed like sponges while we watch her, with our hearts beating a thousand miles an hour and with a certain fear of what will come next," writes the poet, who continues to ask herself questions about why the public responds with more noise, why there is this need for shouting.

However, the show leaves the poet with a certain bitter aftertaste, a touch of sadness, because sometimes, when the audience shares a great performance, "there is a certain sense of community, of camaraderie... of having been carried away and of sharing something." "Here there is nothing of that. Here each person is deeply and individually in love with Rosalía," reflects Carson, who explains how after the concert, while everyone waits for the subway to arrive, there is no shared euphoria. "Each person sinks into their own dream while adjusting their headphones," writes the 2026 Nobel Prize in Literature winner.