The most notable novelty of the week in the Barça environment was the broadcast of the Estrella Damm spot. They’ve seen it plenty of times already. A slightly nerdy rock band rehearses in the guitarist’s brother’s garage. The guy, who doesn’t know anything about football and doesn’t care, is hoarse for ‘Els Hamelins’ (the name of the group) to go to the bar (a very popular Ateneu with greasy sausages) to watch a Barça game again. Like those of before and in the space of before.
No sophistication or sofas at home. In the bar of all life. In reality, of course, what he wants is to hook up with an “Alexia” who is out there, she is, very fanatic. Based on nostalgia and making them see that she is about to start a new era and that they are not going to miss it because of the foolishness of thinking that “nothing will be like before”.
On the contrary, it can be better. The mechanic plays a contemporary Hamelin who, with the little music of the Barça anthem, manages to hypnotize his friends to drag them towards the game. There are two things to keep in mind with this (otherwise, splendid: emotional, shocking) ad. First: beware of the Hamelin metaphor. The guy with the flute was actually a child abductor, a pedophile thug. Today, he would be in prison.
The “momentum”
With the kind and seductive music, they are taken to the orchard, which is like saying that it clouds their conscience. Second: the “momentum”. The advertising for Damm, Barça’s ‘global partner’, comes just after the three goal poker games, in full euphoria of recycled nostalgia in a new dawn. Nobody would have thought of broadcasting it the week after the agonizing 3-2 against Elx at the Camp Nou, on Christmas Eve. Then, we saw huge flashes of Jutgla and Nico and a tremendous goal of Gavibut also the fragility of a defense in 90 seconds of terror from Elche.
Not even the original flutist himself would have been able to seduce us with a melody that would take us away from chaos and accompany us towards intuited happiness. We were not there those days to listen to siren songs, daubed in the harsh reality of reconstruction.
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“Porcelain Noia”
The Martínez Valero game confirms (for now, there are more and more indications) that Hamelin does not hypnotize us with the memory of the past, but that we can still re-green the glory days of the past without having to continually give in to nostalgia. It was a game in prose, following the definition that he taught us Pasolini (“Football is a language, with its poets and its prose writers”) and that in these pages they have already remembered Tapounet and mayugo, but it has had “ineluctable and dazzling” moments, as the poet wrote. They did not become “irreversible” because of edgar badia. The problem, today, is that the offensive joy becomes, as in December, “noia de porcelain” (a humble nod to the great Pau Riba) when we defend.