How long does it take for a song that played at every wedding to fade from memory? The question hangs over any conversation among thirty-somethings when someone drops the name of an act that once filled stadiums and today only draws blank stares. A list recently shared online gathers more than 50 artists and groups from Spanish pop —Luna Pop, Melón Diesel, Guaraná, Radio Macande, El Koala or Café Quijano— who hit number one and now don't even show up in streaming playlists.
The nostalgia business (and the royalties business)
But the oblivion is neither total nor free. Some tracks have become stadium anthems: Gigi D'Agostino plays in the temples of Italian football, except at Juventus, which has its own soundtrack. Some estimate that from what is still heard in public venues alone, songwriters could live several lives over. The economics of music rights reward what endures, not what was once big.
The case of Juan Antonio Canta
One name on the list is marked by tragedy. It will soon be 30 years since the death of Juan Antonio Canta, the singer himself who, according to the brief biographical note, took his own life. His disappearance from the airwaves is not a whim of the algorithm, but the consequence of a physical absence that no one has managed, or wanted, to replace with nostalgia.
Popular music has turned forgetting into an industry: nostalgia festivals, songs revived by a TV advert, artists filling an arena thanks to emotional memory. For most of the names on that list, the only place they still play is the memory of those who watched them from the second-to-last row of a festival in 1998. Fortunately, forgetting is also cheap: no royalties are due on memories.
Summary of a discussion on Burbuja.info - Foro de economía, actualidad y política., translated from Spanish and reviewed before publication.
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