Wembley y forofismo

En vísperas de Wembley y un año después de Hamburgo, este texto extraído de Fever Pitch, la obra maestra de Nick Hornby ilustra perfectamente lo que el fútbol es para los forofos. Y forofo es una palabra más bonita que fan, tifoso, hincha, hooligan, supporter...

One thing I know for sure about being a fan is this: it is not a vicarious pleasure, despite all appearances to the contrary, and those who say that they would rather do than watch are missing the point. Football is a context where watching becomes doing – not in the aerobic sense, because watching a game, smoking your head off while doing so, drinking after it has finished and eating chips on the way home is unlikely to do you a whole lot of Jane Fonda good, in the way that chuffing up and down a pitch is supposed to. But when there is some kind of triumph, the pleasure does not radiate from the players outwards until it reaches the likes of us at the back of the terraces in a pale and diminished form; our fun is not a watery version of the team’s fun, even though they are the ones that get to score the goals and climb the steps at Wembley to meet Princess Diana. The joy we feel on occasions like this is not a celebration of others’ good fortune, but a celebration of our own; and when there is a disastrous defeat the sorrow that engulfs us is, in effect, self-pity, and anyone who wishes to understand how football is consumed must realise this above all things.
The players are merely our representatives, chosen by the manager rather than elected by us, but our representatives nonetheless, and sometimes if you look hard you can see the little poles that join them together, and the handles at the side that enable us to move them. I am a part of the club, just as the club is a part of me; and I say this fully aware that the club exploits me, disregards my views, and treats me shoddily on occasions, so my feeling of organic connection is not built on a muddle-headed and sentimental misunderstanding of how professional football works. This Wembley win belonged to me every bit as much as it belonged to Charlie Nicholas or George Graham (does Nicholas, who was dropped by Graham right at the start of the following season, and then sold, remember the afternoon as fondly?), and I worked every bit as hard for it as they did. The only difference between me and them is that I have put in more hours, more years, more decades than them, and so had a better understanding of the afternoon, a sweeter appreciation of why the sun still shines when I remember it.

Buena suerte

Le corps mince de Francoise

Le corps mince de Francoise o LCMDF son un grupo pop de Finlandia que muestra sentido del humor en entrevistas escritas o en video y sobre el que sepueden encontrar referencias más o menos antiguas. Tras un exhaustivo repaso de reseñas y criticas semi-destructivas se puede encontrar una referencia a lo que parece una obvia (u oculta) influencia, los B-52, aunque M.I.A. parece rondar cerca en las discotecas de esta dos hermanas de Helsinki.

Lo cierto es que este dúo hace un pop divertido y estimulante y cantan principalmente en inglés con un acento escandinavo mas marcado que los numerosos y muy interesantes grupos suecos o noruegos.

Su música es encontrable y sus canciones nos ofrecen estrofas geniales como:
I've been working too long
Did I reach my goal?
No, no! Power I need
Power to the people give the power to me
acompañadas de estribillos chispeantes:
Voodoo-ah give me Karma
I want some Mahatma Gandhi, Gandhi, Gandhi
en su reciente video de su tema Ghandi


Y tienen una forma encantadora de decir "aserejé"… ver el segundo 25'' de su hitazo Ray Ban glasses ..., bueno puede no haver sido un gran hit, pero tenía todas las condiciones para haberlo sido.

Estas chicas demuestran una vez más que el buen pop se puede encontrar en cualquier sitio, que el idioma (sobre todo el inglés) ayuda, pero no condiciona el disfrute de buenas canciones y que el hedonismo del electro-dance-pop feemnino, acelerado y saltarín sigue siendo muy atractivo.