The terraces have a new soundtrack. But is it any good? The World Cup song has become a political football.
From the anthemic 'World in Motion' to the forgettable 'Three Lions (It's Coming Home)' rehashes, each tournament brings a fresh batch of musical offerings. This year's crop is notably insipid. Sources close to the FA admit privately that the brief was 'less political, more palatable'.
A mistake. The classic 'Olé, olé, olé' chant, born in the stands of the 1982 World Cup, remains the gold standard. It speaks to unity, to hope, to the beautiful game itself.
In contrast, the modern studio-produced efforts sound like focus-grouped blandness. Backbench MPs have already seized on the cultural shift. 'We've lost our song,' a Tory backbencher grumbled over a pint.
Labour MP Clive Lewis called it 'a metaphor for lost national identity'. The polls back this up. A YouGov survey shows 68% of fans prefer the old chants to new releases.
The FA is watching nervously. They know the song is more than music. It's a barometer of national mood.
A bad song? A bad tournament. So far, the omens are poor.
The new effort lacks bite, lacks soul, lacks the raw energy of the terraces. It sounds like corporate music. The old guard grumble.
'They don't make 'em like they used to,' a veteran sports minister sighed. And they're right. The game has changed.
The politics of football have changed. The song? It's a relic trying to stay relevant.
The question is: can the FA swing the bat again, or will this be a World Cup of muted hums? The lobby is watching. The club of political insiders knows that a bad song can signal a bad government.
The comparison is too easy. But the fall from 'World in Motion' to mediocrity is a steep one. Someone in the music industry is getting a call.
The leaks suggest a plan to revive the old chants. A 'retro' approach. It might just work.
Labour are already positioning themselves as the party of the terraces. Culture wars, meet the World Cup. The song is a footnote, but a telling one.
Watch this space.
