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From a Degas-inspired reveal to a techno-fueled meltdown to a devastating solo encore, these were the most memorable moments from an unforgettable tour opener.
3/17/2026
Rosalía performs on stage at the LDLC Arena on March 16, 2026 in Lyon, France. Gareth Cattermole/Getty Images for Live Nation
At one point during the first show of her long-awaited Lux Tour on Monday night (Mar. 16), Rosalía told the Lyon crowd, in fluent French, that the evening was “really special” for her.
It’s easy to understand: this 51-date world tour is the biggest production the 33-year-old Barcelona native has ever staged and represents her first proper tour cycle since Motomami turned her into a global phenomenon in 2022. She’s spent the intervening years crafting Lux, and on Monday at the LDLC Arena, it became clear that she’d been dreaming about this night for a very long time.
“Special” would also be an apt way to describe the sheer ambition of the Lux Tour: structured in four acts plus an intermezzo, the show entertained 13,700 frequently screaming spectators for one hour and forty-five minutes, as Rosalía tirelessly shapeshifted from ballerina to nightclub provocateur to confessional penitent to winged angel across 24 songs. Choreographed by French collective (La) Horde and backed by a 22-piece classical orchestra, the production sits somewhere between grand opera and a rave—and the achievement is often staggering.
The Lux Tour is going to satisfy a lot of Rosalía devotees in the coming months, who will surely find their own favorite pockets of the setlist. And while fans should embrace the entire experience, the opening night provided some clear-cut highlights.
Here are the 8 best moments from the Lux Tour kickoff in Lyon on Monday night. For a full setlist of the show, click here. For a list of cities and dates, click here.
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French Subtitles for a French Crowd
It was the detail nobody saw coming: every lyric, across all 24 songs, was translated and projected in French above the stage and on two flanking screens. For a show performed almost entirely in Spanish, the gesture transformed the audience’s relationship with the material, turning unfamiliar poetry into something deeply felt in real time. It was a small logistical feat and an enormous emotional one — and it set the tone for an evening built on connection rather than spectacle alone.
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The Degas Reveal
The show’s opening was a masterclass in delayed gratification. After a live orchestra entered to the strains of Jimi Hendrix’s “Angel,” the lights dropped, a giant painting-like backdrop split in two, and a crew of stagehands in blue work uniforms pried open a wooden crate at center stage. Inside: Rosalía, perfectly still on a pedestal, black hair pinned up, wearing a white leotard and pink tutu — an unmistakable echo of Degas’ famous ballerina sculpture. She then danced on pointe as “Sexo, Violencia y Llantas” erupted around her. As an opening image, it was breathtaking — art museum silence giving way to controlled sonic chaos in a matter of seconds.
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‘Mio Cristo Piange Diamanti’ and the Operatic First-Act Closer
Twenty minutes into the show, Rosalía was fitted with a white nun’s headdress — the same one from the Lux album cover — and launched into this Italian-language track about a weeping Christ. The Paris Match review described her vocal delivery as possessing a sincere faith and staggering intensity, and that’s putting it mildly. Backed by the full orchestra, she channeled the power of a trained opera singer, her voice climbing into a register that visibly stunned the arena. It was the moment the crowd understood that this wouldn’t just be a pop concert.
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The ‘Berghain’ Techno Meltdown
The second act opened with the album’s marquee collaboration — Björk and Yves Tumor lending their recorded voices to a track named after Berlin’s most infamous nightclub — and the live arrangement, extended and reshaped around (La) Horde’s choreography, was a full-body experience. The crowd filmed everything on their phones, then collectively abandoned their devices as the song’s closing techno sequence sent the arena into a frenzy. The ovation that followed was the loudest of the night, and Rosalía stood watching the crowd for a long beat, visibly moved.
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The Living Mona Lisa on ‘Can’t Take My Eyes Off You’
In the night’s most delightfully unexpected moment, Rosalía covered the Frankie Valli classic in Gloria Gaynor’s disco arrangement — while posing motionless inside a gilded picture frame, surrounded by dancers pretending to be tourists snapping photos of a masterpiece. It was funny, it was weird, it was glamorous, and it perfectly captured her instinct for turning a pop concert into a living gallery. The cover slot in Act III is reportedly set to rotate throughout the tour, which means this particular tableau may not last — catch it while you can.
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‘Sauvignon Blanc’ and the Golden Rain
For the evening’s most intimate moment, Rosalía perched on a white grand piano while the orchestra’s string section accompanied her on this slow-burning meditation. Golden confetti rained down like liquid light. She then broke the spell with a candid aside, delivered in Spanish, about preferring white wine to red. The contrast between the song’s hushed beauty and her offhand humor landed perfectly — a reminder that behind the operatic ambition is a performer with impeccable comic timing.
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‘Wesh 6-9 la trik’ and the Local Connection
Deep into the third act, Rosalía returned through the audience in a regal costume — floral headband, transparent basket-shaped tutu — and climbed onto a small B-stage positioned among the orchestra and a cajón player. After a run of songs that built to a techno crescendo laced with Eurythmics’ “Sweet Dreams,” she declared her love for Lyon, then dropped a piece of local slang — “Wesh 6-9 la trik” — that absolutely detonated the room. It was the sort of crowd-specific moment that can’t be replicated on another tour date, and it showed that Rosalía had done her homework on the city she’d chosen to launch the tour.
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The ‘Magnolias’ Vanishing Act
After 24 songs and four acts, Rosalía returned for her encore alone — no dancers, no orchestra, no screens. She performed “Magnolias,” the devastating closing track from Lux, a meditation on mortality in which she asks the listener to throw magnolias on her coffin. The stripped-back arrangement let her voice carry every ounce of weight. When the final note faded, she disappeared in a single beam of light — no bow, no wave, no words. The house lights came up to reveal the orchestra conductor and musicians embracing one another, and the audience gave them a prolonged standing ovation. It was an ending that belonged to the opera house, not the arena — and that was entirely the point.
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