Stop-Motion Bicycle Seat Belts Out a Tune

And it looks just like gelato

I don’t want to live in a world without rapping bicycle seats.

And now I don’t have to, thanks to Italian cycling brand Selle Royal, which just dropped a stop-motion mini-epic touting its saddle foam made from the remnants of discarded seats.

Thanks to the grinding process, the product in question resembles stracciatella gelato, apparently.

And so, we get a hip-hop toe-tapper: “Stracciatella Fella.”

If nothing else, that eco-friendly butt-basket carries a tune way better than JanSport’s backpacks.

“The idea started with childhood memories—of Play-doh, of building small worlds where anything was possible,” says Mauro Messina, client services director at Milan agency Adverteam, which created the Selle Royal film. “That tactile creativity, where real things could become surreal and joyful, was the spark.”

“The name Stracciatella already had a musicality to it—reminiscent of gelato, Italian playfulness, texture,” he says. “The rap track gave it rhythm and voice. The stop-motion film gave it soul.”

No AI here, just 2,000+ scenes brought to life with Play-Doh and finely detailed sets made from scratch

Beyond launching a product, “We were reimagining it through the lens of childhood creativity, where even the most technical innovation could feel fun, relatable and human,” Messina tells Muse. “It’s designed to appeal to urban riders and everyday people, not just cycling purists. People who live in cities, who care about sustainability, but are tired of being lectured. People who want brands to make them feel something—or at least make them smile.”

The soundtrack “wasn’t just a layer on top. It was the creative backbone of the entire film,” he says. “Rap was a deliberate choice: not just for its energy, but for its ability to land real messages without sounding preachy. It gives you permission to say things—about pollution, about change, about sustainability—with humor, rhythm and attitude.”

Moreover, “the beat mirrors the rhythm of city riding—spinning wheels, bumps, swerves—and the lyrics became a script not only for the story but for the choreography.”

“The director and animators developed a kind of lip-sync system for the characters, assigning syllables to mouth shapes and matching gestures to flows, frame by frame,” Messina recalls. “It was painstaking work, but the result gives these handmade creatures a swagger that feels real.”