Was Rosalía involved?

1. This Monday, a handful of anonymous people will appear in the media with euphoria in their eyes and a glass of cava in their hand. They will be the lucky ones who won the raffle. If you've bought a lottery ticket, there's a 0.00001% chance of winning the jackpot. Therefore, if you have a one in a hundred thousand chance of keeping a ticket with the winning number on your nightstand, it's only natural that you'd be very happy. I don't know what the odds were for a Rosalía fan to get a ticket for one of the four concerts she'll be giving in Barcelona in April, but I imagine they were much lower. The overall demand was enormous, and the Sant Jordi venue has a limited capacity. And perhaps that's why I don't know anyone who managed to buy a ticket on the day they went on sale. (During the presale a few days earlier, for people with regular accounts at Banco Santander, I do know of one girl who managed to buy two.)

2. Rosalía is, aside from being the most internationally renowned Catalan artist, the current global musical phenomenon. With 42 concerts planned for her 2026 tour—four in Catalonia and four in Spain—it's understandable that fans everywhere are scrambling to buy tickets. Knowing they'll be in short supply, the sales system should be much more transparent. And in this case, there's been very little transparency. Rosalía, so focused on her marketing campaigns—as original as they are unbeatable—should also try not to generate so much frustration among her devoted fans—to use a religious metaphor—with an online sales system that reeks of corruption. Even though, on that morning of December 11th, two hours before sales opened, people in offices, newsrooms, and university classrooms were already in the virtual queue with numbers below 1,000, they still couldn't get tickets. When it came time to buy them, it either said they were sold out, or wouldn't let them buy two tickets (in theory, you could buy four), or wouldn't let them pay, or they got a "System error 01" message. I've heard all sorts of stories. But they all had one thing in common: just when you thought you were about to buy them, the machine would send you back to the virtual queue with such a high number (80,000, for example) that you knew for sure you weren't going to get them. Being so excited about the tickets and not getting them leaves you with a feeling of utter helplessness. And that's not even considering the four hours of personal time wasted and the countless hours of work lost along the way.

3. Outrage grows among fans when, the very next day, on illegal resale websites, you can buy a handful of Rosalía tickets at a drastically inflated price. That's how the business is set up. A significant percentage of the concert's capacity flows to these companies that seem to be in cahoots with the concert promoters. What does Rosalía know about all this? Probably nothing. She's informed that all the tickets sold out in a flash, and she must be thrilled. Ah, those were the days when artists pampered their fans. Today, it seems they're mistreated. And there seems to be a certain cynical satisfaction in this strategy of collective humiliation. Another example is with Rosalía's own album. Just as the capacity of the concerts at the Sant Jordi is limited, the vinyl pressing of Lux It's a simple matter of starting the machine and printing. But no, not even that. They've made few, they've made a short run, and not even the Tió de Nadal will be able to release a CD that, from what I hear, contains four songs that can only be heard on the physical disc. They're not on Spotify or any other platform in the new world. Unbridled capitalism thus generates a commercial need that, since the CD can't be bought, leads to even more frustration. The damned vicious cycle.Fucking money man"