Once a year, it was Christmas
Was everything better in the old days? Of course not. After all, nostalgia is simply a longing for a past that we romanticise in hindsight. When it comes to mountain bike videos, however, the ‘good old days’ do have a point.
Back then, there was New World Disorder. A major production, a big event, huge anticipation. Plus a few small independent films – some good, some best consigned to the bin. But the scene was waiting for autumn. No spoilers, no previews every few seconds. Then came the premiere – and afterwards, there were months of debate about which rider had actually nailed which drop the best.
Today? A swipe, a stunt, next swipe. Another stunt. Even bigger, even faster, even more spectacular. And before your brain can even say ‘Wow’, the next clip is already on the table.
Everyone’s in Hollywood now
When YouTube (2005), Instagram (2010) and TikTok (2018) came along, everything changed. Suddenly, anyone could film, edit, publish and declare themselves a star. It’s called the democratisation of content. Sounds lovely.
In the past, producers such as Derek “Big D” Westerlund (New World Disorder) were the ones calling the shots.
Anyone who appeared in the film could make a career for themselves. Almost guaranteed.
Anyone who didn’t appear in it could forget about landing their next sponsorship deal. Almost guaranteed.
Talent alone wasn’t always enough. A bit of ‘ass-kissing’, as the Americans say, couldn’t do any harm.
These days, you no longer need a film crew or a ‘Big D’. A smartphone is enough. That’s undoubtedly brilliant. But this democratisation has a downside: it produces more content than we can possibly watch.
A deluge of content
Neuroscientists know that: “Too much of a good thing doesn’t make it better – it makes it ineffective!” At some point, the thrill wears off. That’s exactly where we are.
We’re up to our necks in content. Everything’s spectacular, everything’s top-notch, everything’s ‘insane’ and ‘so sick!’ And that’s exactly why, at some point, nothing’s spectacular anymore.
On top of that, there’s the mistrust. Even before the age of AI, we were thoroughly taken for a ride. I remember a clip of a French wingsuit pilot who supposedly became the first person to land on the water at Lake Garda without a parachute. He skimmed so low over the surface that it looked as though he were landing like a seaplane.
Ten million viewers. Many people believed it. I did too, for that matter – even though I’m a skydiver and paraglider myself. Back then, the clip was still relatively crudely faked. Today, the lines between spectacular, staged and simply fabricated have finally become blurred.
We live in the age of fake news.
My personal firewall
The bitter truth is this: even as a die-hard fan of stylish bike action, I’ve now started to give many of these edits a miss. Not because they’re bad. On the contrary. They’re too good. There are too many of them. My attention span has given up.
My brother Laurin feels the same way: “I don’t really watch anything anymore. If I do, it’s maybe 20 seconds. Unless it’s genuinely authentic – like Johannes Fischbach’s edits.”
That’s interesting. Because Fischbach’s videos aren’t exactly high-budget productions. But they come across as genuine, spontaneous, and sometimes wonderfully daft. And that’s exactly why they stick in our minds.
Perhaps that is the irony of the age of content: we have become so accustomed to perfection that we are suddenly drawn to imperfection once again.
We don’t need better stunts. We need fewer of them.
What do you think? Am I completely off the mark? Is the flood of videos more of a blessing than a curse?
Let me know – I’d love to hear your comments!
And tell me more about this brilliant bloke – I absolutely must have a look.
Here are three clips that managed to get past my personal firewall. Cool or cool?
Dimitri Lehner
Editor