THE IDEA
Gamla Slussen or Nya Slussen? Hornsgatan or Götgatan? Here at Totally Stockholm these are the kinds of questions which keep us up at night, so over the summer we’ve dedicated ourselves to answering them, one by one. Last time out we discussed the timeless virtues of Lake Mälaren and the Baltic Sea, but the latest instalment of ‘That Sinking Feeling’ brings us right up to the present day.
Last year Sweden’s new national stadium, Friends Arena, opened its doors; now, twelve months later, Stockholm has another new arena: the Tele2 arena. The former is home to AIK; the latter to Hammarby and Djurgården. But if we put footballing allegiances aside for a moment—that is, if such a thing is possible—which is the better venue?
THE DEBATE: FRIENDS ARENA vs. TELE2 ARENA
The problem with new stadia is that we can’t help but compare them with their predecessors—and the comparison is often less than flattering. No matter what fans of AIK and the Swedish national team make of their new home, wistful glances are still likely to be cast at the corpse of old Råsunda, the two sides’ former abode, as fans stream past on their way to the giant Friends Arena. Followers of Djurgården and Hammarby, joint tenants of the brand-new Tele2, may well feel similarly when they catch sight of Stadion or Söderstadion; like Råsunda, their old grounds are full of memories—some good, some bad, but all of them cherished just the same.
But to fight the forces of history is to fight a losing battle. You can’t judge a new stadium by an old one—and you shouldn’t try to. After all, neither the Friends nor Tele2 the was designed to replicate its forerunner; these are thoroughly modern stadia, conceived with the trends and demands of the 21st century firmly in mind. Comparing them with the arenas of days gone by runs the risk of drowning in nostalgia. Comparing them with one another, however, is definitely fair game.
Visually, there’s little to choose between them. Cast an eye over either one and you’ll be confronted by the same sharp, sleek aesthetic which has become synonymous with this part of the world. Round one, then, is a tie. But round two—the name game—has a clear winner. Both stadia boast major sponsors, but only Tele2 have their moniker in pride of place, for all to see. Most people expected Friends to be named after Swedbank, its own corporate sugar-daddy—but in the kind of selfless gesture too rarely seen from financial institutions these days, Swedbank decided to donate the naming rights to an anti-bullying campaign group instead. A classy move—if a touch ironic in the context of derby-day chants from bloodthirsty fans.
Look over some of the other basics and Friends continues to impress. It has a capacity of 50,000, rising to 65,000 for concerts—a number which puts the Tele2’s 33,000 (or 45,000 for gigs) firmly in the shade. And given the size of some of the names who’ve already graced Friends with their substantial presence, every seat looks increasingly like a sound investment. Swedish House Mafia played three sell-out gigs there on their farewell tour, while Bruce Springsteen packed the place out over three more famous nights. It’s early days for the Tele2, of course, but even so it’s hard to imagine it stealing many household names from its bigger, slightly-older brother—not least because of its affiliation with the nearby Globen.
Whether Friends will host a larger number of high-profile events isn’t really up for debate—but whether it’s more capable of doing so than the Tele2 is certainly open to question. Evidence can be found in the murky universe of internet forums, where a selection of frustrated Iron Maiden fans have launched some fairly impressive rants about the quality of Friends’s acoustics. The same accusations cast a considerable cloud over Swedish House Mafia’s aforementioned homecoming, and the prospect of closing the roof raised the ire of veteran football coach Giovanni Trapattoni before his Republic of Ireland side played Sweden back in March. ‘It has an echo, which is no good,’ he said. ‘It is too loud.’
It’s a popular sentiment among AIK fans, whose sense of displacement has been exaggerated upon finding that their new home lacks Råsunda’s trademark raucous atmosphere. The failure to fill it certainly doesn’t help. A 50,000-seater arena may be impressive, but there’s something uniquely disappointing about seeing it half-empty, particularly on big occasions: Daniel Tjernström’s last match, for instance, or the heavily-publicised friendly against Manchester United three days later. The United game was boycotted by many AIK diehards upset at their team playing an unnecessary glamour fixture in the middle of the season, but one wonders whether the atmosphere would have been that much better even if it were full.
Early reports filtering out from the Tele2 are a lot more positive. There’s only so much you can tell from a Gyllene Tider concert and a couple of football fixtures, but thumbs are pointing cautiously upwards nonetheless. One AIK fan I spoke to suggested that the architects responsible for the Tele2 may have benefitted from working a few months behind their colleagues over in Solna; where Friends has a problem, he said, the Tele2 has a solution. Although it probably shouldn’t be taken too literally, the comment nevertheless sums up the nascent feeling among Stockholmers about their newest architectural marvels: that one should be good (and is); and that the other should be magnificent (but isn’t even close).
And there’s the rub: the more you build something up, the further it has to fall—and ultimately it’s the sheer weight of everything that Friends ought to have in its favour which prevents it from reaching the heights of popular expectation. This is Sweden’s national arena we’re talking about. It should be—in fact, it has to be—a source of pride, fit to host the world’s biggest acts and to compete with the world’s finest venues. That it fails on both fronts is not just regrettable, but a little embarrassing.
THE VERDICT
As Zlatan Ibrahimovic demonstrated during Friends Arena’s curtain-raiser against England, an outstanding player can win a game all by himself. Unfortunately, the venue he dominated shows that a poor stadium can lose a competition on its own, as well. Time will tell whether Friends can find a way to capitalise on its enormous potential, but for now the verdict is all too clear. The real shame is that we’re ‘drinking’ the Tele2 not because it’s an excellent venue, but because it’s up against one which isn’t as good as it should have been. Friends has its selling points, of course—but its failings mean that the Tele2 wins by default. A figurative own goal, if ever there was one.
words // Tom Bradstreet
(On board with our decision? Or have we managed to miss the magic of the Friends Arena? Get involved in the debate by emailing jonny@hkm.se).
