Beyoncé was kind enough to impose on the media, the other night, the photos that we had to publish to illustrate our chronicles of her concert at the Estadi Olímpic. His own, shot by a photographer from her agency. Nothing new, although an indecipherable limitation was: the prohibition for editors to take computers to the press area, a plot of the stands called that not on a whim but because it has its desks and plugs. We all saw each other typing with the mobile (using both thumbs the most seasoned: it is not my case), and The measure did not prevent the corresponding express chronicles from being published: it just made writing more awkward.
Kind readers slide me that we should refuse to report on those shows in which everything is hindrances and tripping. You win sometimes we do not lack, but if every time journalists do not get things easy we throw in the towel, what would be of this profession? The observation indicates that informative work can be confused with promotional work, when the article should not respond to the glorification of the divo on duty, but to the right to information and freedom of opinion. Precisely for this reason, it is usually a annoying interference for artists in their plans for world domination.
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The measures imposed by Beyoncé (by her team, not by the promoter, Live Nation, whom I don’t guess has any will to touch our noses) have poured rain: for a few years, artists like Adele, Bryan Adams, Lorde, Rufus Wainwright, Ben Harper and many others have been tightening the noose, particularly photographers. In a few days, Bob Dylan will immobilize the mobiles in the Liceu: those of the public and those of the press, who will not have the opportunity to write or take notes, not even in a remote box.
There is a fatalistic feeling in the union that the media are less and less necessary for the great musical figures, who cultivate their direct communication channels with their followers, without intermediaries. True, although the examples of giants that have bypassed the press as much as possible have always been abundant: already in the 70s, led zeppelin consciously fueled mutual animosity. Now it is necessary to add the resentment of those thousands of photos and videos captured every night with the mobile by any assistant, without restrictions, and furrowing the networks. It doesn’t matter: journalism is something else, and it must continue there, acting with or without the smiling complicity of artists.