Iván walks through a crowded, grey subway station. While everyone else is glued to holographic screens, he reaches out and grabs the hand of a stranger—a woman who looks like she stepped out of a Warhol painting. As their hands touch, the world flashes into technicolor .
The video ends with the woman disappearing back into the crowd, leaving Iván holding nothing but a . He looks at the camera, winks, and the screen cuts to black on the final beat.
In the neon-drenched, rain-slicked streets of a city that feels like 1974 trapped in a dream, are more than a band—they are the last purveyors of "The Groove." Iván walks through a crowded, grey subway station
The story follows a , but the "stolen" goods aren't diamonds—they're stolen moments of analog joy . The band members are "The Collectors," moving through a high-tech, sterile world of the future where music and touch have been outlawed.
Does this vibe fit the energy you were imagining for the track, or should we go for something more psychedelic and abstract ? The video ends with the woman disappearing back
The music video for opens with a tight shot of a vintage red telephone booth. It’s ringing. Iván Vitáris (the lead singer) picks up. There’s no voice on the other end, only the steady, driving bassline of the song beginning to thrum.
The chase ends at a massive, rusted radio tower. The girl hands Iván a golden vinyl record. He places it on a turntable at the top of the tower, and as the final solo rips through the air, a wave of color and sound explodes over the city, turning the grey sky into a sunset of deep purples and oranges. The Aesthetic The band members are "The Collectors," moving through
One by one, the other band members intercept the pursuers not with violence, but with instruments . A drum fill from Simon knocks the suits off balance; a fuzzy guitar riff from Máté creates a literal wall of sound they can't cross.
