One must acknowledge the man’s true talent: elevating banality to the rank of profundity. “God is great”; “I’m from Virginia”; “I got my first pair of sneakers at sixteen.” So many cymbal crashes announcing… nothing. But since it’s delivered with gravity, the audience applauds, convinced they are witnessing the birth of a prophet of the pavement transfigured into a messiah of marketing.
One might have hoped for a bit of substance behind the staging, a thread of thought behind the slogans. But no: Pharrell mostly preaches for his brand and for his legend. He doesn’t recount hardship; he puts it on display. The story of the poor kid turned icon serves less to enlighten than to sell a shoe, as if transcendence lay in a well-designed sole.
And while the flashes crackle, the artist seems to savor the contrast: the child who once pumped water in the Virginia desert now celebrates thousand-dollar sneakers. Miracle or simple business savvy? In a world where storytelling passes for truth, marketing speaks louder than morality. Pharrell hasn’t just slipped on Adidas: he has donned the full costume of myth.
FM
