Ads that do no more than pay the Bill

It's been a little while since my last post, but I have renowned chef and restauranteur Bill Granger to thank for giving me just the jab in the kidneys that I needed to get back me into the blog seat.

On this particular occasion, Bill was not plugging his latest book but rather his love for Poliform kitchens – and I'm not surprised given that Bill's one of the few people that could probably afford one. But what grated about the ad that I saw (one of a series of ads including the one shown above) was the complete lack of imagination when it came to the copy.

My Poliform kitchen combines the best ingredients – elegance, functionality and quality and it's not as expensive as you think.

I'm all too well aware that clients often set incredibly tight deadlines, but surely the agency in this case had the time or creativity to do more than simply copy–and–paste the brief into the ad? But then if you don't know what you're doing, even the best ingredients can leave a bad taste.

Caught in a cliché

The past week's been pretty hectic – meetings, deadlines, missed deadlines, pitches, spreadsheets and other sundry items.

But the memory of one particular meeting still lingers.

Now, I understand as well as the next man that acronyms and jargon have their place in this world. If you're stood in a room full of people who know exactly what you mean when you say EPCM, there's absolutely no point in saying the words in full each and every time you use the term. In fact, in most cases, you would actually look a little foolish. As much as acronyms and jargon are exclusive and, quite literally, exclude the layperson, they can also serve just as positive a purpose by reinforcing communication between those already in-the-know (think of it as the modern day equivalent of the Freemason's handshake).

The clichés of the corporate world suffer a similar fate.

Time and place can play a pivotal role in whether they evoke the right response. But all too often they are mere victims of their own popularity as commonplace phrases – as well as the insincerity (or lack of imagination) on the part of those who invoke their expression.

And so it was that I found myself in a pretty swish boardroom in the CBD.

Stainless steel carafes of filtered water, carefully-placed corporate coasters, and individually-wrapped, no-name mints.

Handshakes, smiles, introductions.

And as the conversation wound into action, one particular person began to say how they had only been involved at certain points in the project. In their own words, they had simply "parachuted in, and then parachuted back out again".

After which point, I spent the remainder of the meeting – and the week – wondering exactly how you parachute out of anything.

I understand parachute in. It's possibly a little lazy, even surreptitiously belligerent (although I should say that military phrases have a nasty habit of popping up in the boardroom a little too often for my liking).

But parachute out? I'm sorry, but that's just dumb.

It's never as easy as Abc

Last week, I was watching a documentary about the history of music. Inevitably, Nirvana were featured at one point in the story, much of it rehashed reports on the lead-up to Kurt Cobain's tragic death.

But one thing I had never heard before – that was mentioned only incidentally – was the fact that the band always jammed for the first half-hour of any rehearsal, only then setting their minds to specific songs or half-written tunes.

Likewise, designers will take weeks to work their way through dozens of concepts and half-baked ideas before settling on the one that cracks the brief.

And how many times do you hear of artists painting over their work, only for these hidden canvases to be discovered years later and revealed as forgotten masterpieces?

I realise that none of this sounds like a big deal. But believe me, it is.

Because when the amateur writer starts to write, they often expect great things from the moment the pen hits the page. And I mean, great things.

As writers, we can tend to put undue pressure on ourselves to create epic stories worthy of equally epic praise with every stroke of the pen or tap on the keyboard. However, if you take even the most fleeting glance at any other creative pursuit, there is always the basic belief that success does not come straightaway.

What's more, the pressure is doubled by the fact that everyone can read and write. From an early age, we're taught how to recognise and create the letterforms required to communicate through the written word. That said – and as you'll have read in this previous post – we don't spend nearly as much time promoting the creative arts as we do our technical skills.

And so it is that the examples I gave at the start of this post show the way for any aspiring amateur writer.

Firstly, a musician might jam or improvise. So why shouldn't we do the same as writers?

Then there's the act of rehearsing. Things don't always flow straight onto the page, and it takes time and practice to get the words to read and feel right.

And finally, writing is first and foremost about writing. And writing. And writing. Which is different to re-writing. And nothing at all like editing. Three different activities with three different mindsets that ought to be kept entirely separate.

Ultimately, the distinction between the technique and the art of writing is an important one.

We can all do the one, but we should never take the other for granted.

Unlock your creativity (but please don't use a key)

In life, creativity is essential.

I realise that's a pretty broad statement, but so often it gets forgotten in the midst of all the other demands on our attention and time from one day to the next.

And that's even more true when it comes to thinking even more broadly in terms of one generation to the next.

Which is why I think it's so important that everyone – and I mean everyone – should listen to what Ken Robinson has to say here about the role of creativity in the education of our children. In his view, schools kill creativity: we systematically erase it from the future generation's skill set in the interests of preparing them for a world that has long since passed. We have evolved, but our education system has not.

This became painfully clear to me when I came across this ad for MGSM (Macquarie Graduate School of Management) in the paper earlier this week.

Now I should say that you have to be careful what you say these days given the universal access that the Internet provides – as Hill & Knowlton found out to their dismay this week when their GM criticised Telstra-owned Sensis on Twitter without considering what their client Telstra might have to say on the matter.

As it happens, I've actually completed strategy-related work for MGSM in the past, and I truly believe they are a great business with an outstanding product.

Which only makes this ad all the more underwhelming. Is this really the best that one of the top MBA schools has to offer?

An image of a key.

In the shape of the letter M. You know, as in MGSM.

With a headline that says Unlock your potential.

And don't even get me started on its design aesthetics – or lack thereof.

Call me demanding, but that's as bad an example of a cliché as you'll find. And when you're a prospective applicant, considering which graduate school to give your top dollar (thousands, not hundreds!), it's perfectly reasonable to set the highest standards. Afterall, they expect nothing less from you.

MGSM is not your average graduate school. But you wouldn't know that from reading this ad. Even for MGSM, it seems that creativity and education are not the most comfortable bedfellows.

But as luck would have it, just as soon as I had finished reading the paper, I picked up a magazine and found this ad for the Australian Institute of Architects.

Now there's an organisation – with a comparable (although not identical) role in terms of its educational remit – that doesn't just have a clear point of view on its purpose in this world, but also the ability to communicate it in a creative and compelling way.

And here's another one for good measure.

This is an organisation that is inspired and unparalleled not only in what it does, but also in how it does it – and that has to be one of the most exciting type treatments you'll ever see. Scroll back up to the MGSM example and the difference in impact is astonishing. Judging from this advertising, who on earth would want to have an MBA when you could be an architect?

And it's not enough simply to say that architecture is naturally more creative than commerce. Creativity is as much nurture as it is nature.

Here's an example from Dixons, an online electrical retailer in the UK, that demonstrates exactly that point. They may well be at the bottom of the pile, but that doesn't stop them coming up with one of the most imaginative taglines you'll ever read.

Dixons.co.uk. The last place you want to go.

In a world where the competition is as daunting as John Lewis and Selfridges, any brand that chooses their words so well is most certainly a brand that I want to talk to.

And here's another one.

All that's left to say is that creativity is king. And if you believe Ken Robinson, whom I mentioned right at the start, we need to start investing in the creativity of the next generation, now. Or they might just end up in MGSM's marketing department.

Wine not?

Recently, I have happened to pen a couple of posts about wine (here and here), both of which have been critical judgements of an industry struggling with its identity in tough times.

However, an evening meal at a local café the other week has given me reason to be hopeful.

The cafe is typical of the inner city. Petite and charming amidst the urban clutter, it opens right onto the street and provides the perfect vantage point to watch the world pass by. The food is sweet, the coffee's bitter, and they have a small but reasonable wine list – and what's more, one that has Mystery wine at the top of the list.

Why not? I'm sure that their Mystery wine is just the same as what everyone else calls house wine, but how about that for something a little more imaginative?

For me, it instantly transforms something banal into an adventure. And at $6 a glass, it's everyone's favourite type of adventure – one that's low on risk but high on story value.

A marketing miracle

Only last week, I wrote here about a wine brand called Wallaby Creek.

At a mere $5.99 a bottle, it's a cellar dweller in every sense of the term, and a striking example of yet another wine following yet another marketing cliché. I can only imagine that it would take a marketing miracle to turn it into a brand of any real substance or interest, and after reading this article in the weekend's Sydney Morning Herald, it seems that I'm not all that far off that mark.

Here's what I mean. With many cleanskins now selling at Dan Murphy's for a paltry $1.99 a bottle, many winemakers are most likely praying for a miracle of their own.

If only they could turn wine into water.

Because even plain old water sells for more than $1.99 a bottle – and all you need to do is filter it.

But of course, even the smallest marketing miracles require a little imagination – something in much shorter supply than the surplus of 100 million cases of wine.

Tell tales

For a while now, corporations around the world have been talking about the power of storytelling.

And they’re right.

To put it simply, people love a good yarn. From the nomadic adventures of Homer’s Odysseus – who can forget one of storytelling’s most fearful monsters, the Cyclops! – to the rise and fall of any number of so-called celebrities in the daily papers.

But it’s a shame that the English language frowns so heavily upon “telling tales”. And, as children, we're often reminded to focus more on the real world and less on the curious meanderings of our mind, even if that does mean hurting the feelings of a few invisible friends along the way.

I tell stories to my boys most nights. They always make sure I remember which parts they like best, and I try hard to live up to their wildest expectations.

Often, they'll want the same story told night after night after night. No deviation is permitted, and even the slightest stumble or memory lapse can land me back at the start. As much as I'm the storyteller, it's quite clear that it's their story.

If the devil's in the detail, then my two boys are little lucifers. Make no mistake, the details are important. In fact, not just important, they're sacrosanct – it's these details that paint such vivid pictures in their mind. Forget the details, and you can kiss goodbye to their attention. Which generally means it'll be an uphill struggle to win them back before you can get them into bed.

These small details are the moments that trigger their imagination – why the train is bright red, or what happened to the elephant's nose to turn it into such a long trunk. Nothing is taken for granted, little is accepted at face value, and you can see them listening to every new word, as pictures form before their eyes and the words float across the room.

And they love superlatives, not subtlety. The bigger, the better. No! – the biggest, the best. Not just words, but also actions, sound effects (however unrealistic!), and anything else to intensify the tale. What's more, they too want to get in on the action – hold a train, throw the monkey in the air, bounce the ball, anything to get involved and throw themselves into the story.

I'd say that stories are a special part of our lives, but I don't think for a moment that my kids are out of the ordinary. Quite the opposite, they're pretty much the same as most people with hopes and desires.

They want stories that inspire their dreams, not send them to sleep.

The power of speech

I read voraciously at the breakfast table when I was a kid. Cereal boxes, jam jars, milk cartons. Anything I could find to fuel my imagination while I ate my cornflakes. I wasn’t bored, I was simply enchanted by the stories they told or that I could conjure in my mind with just a few juicy morsels of information.

I wondered if Snap, Crackle and Pop were actually three distinct types of Rice Bubble, each with a different product formulation to create the right sound.

I puzzled over the ingredients in the jam, trying to work out which one caused the lid on the jar to shut so tightly. Did the natural sugars in the jam create a unique vacuum, and was it true that there was a special grip required, known only to a select group of fathers? (Luckily, mine was one of them.)

And I was always curious to know how “fresh” was the milk in the milk carton. Did it mean fresh this morning? Fresh this week? Or simply fresh enough? What’s more, my mother wasn’t one for brand loyalty when it came to milk, so all sorts of differently coloured cartons would make an appearance at the table, leading to a constant stream of bewilderment as we tried to unlock the intricate code that distinguished the homogenised from the pasteurised, the semi-skimmed from the full cream.

Fast forward thirty or so years, and I now find myself not quite as inspired by the words I read in branding. Sure, the responsibilities of adulthood have no doubt dulled the further reaches of my imagination, but that does not explain why every hotel directory in the world reads exactly the same, no matter how budget or boutique. Useful telephone numbers, dry cleaning details, room service menus and intricate instructions for internet access. Where’s the reassuring voice of the savvy concierge who so kindly scored me a table at that exclusive restaurant last night?

Buy flat–pack furniture from any retail brand, and you can only assume that they simply ran out of money when it came to writing the assembly instructions. You spend all that money on talking people into buying your brand only to find it lost for words when it comes to crunch – talk about having a screw loose.

Conversely, politicians used to bore me senseless when I was younger. But now, I’m pushed to find anything quite as exciting when it comes to the power of speech. Never was this more evident than in the gaping chasm that stretched between George W. Bush and Obama. Even the make-up of their names provides a clear signal of the tone you expect to hear in their voice. Stern, establishment and old–school on the one hand, open, inclusive and contemporary on the other.

In Australia, K–Rudd is continually looking to language to build his personal brand and cachet. Since the launch of Kevin07, he’s been hard at work trying to show he’s one of the people – a fair dinkum, dyed–in–the–wool, true blue, Aussie bloke. And when he used the term “shitstorm” on our television screens, it became a powerful trigger for reinforcing this strategy. Likewise, the s–word was followed by the r–word (“recession”) and the b-word (“billions” – when discussing the budget deficit) as equally powerful triggers for action.

Political speechwriters have always seemed to have the upper hand on the mere copywriter. Back in the day, when the Roman Empire towered above the known world, Cicero led the pack with his skills of oratory and rhetoric. He had a very persuasive way with words, to the point that he saw his role as persuading his audience to come to their own decision, rather than forcing a decision upon them. It just so happened that their decision matched his own more often than not.

Likewise, the fable of the North Wind and the Sun, as told by Aesop. The North Wind tried to prove his strength by blowing the traveller’s cloak from his back, a tactic that only led the traveller to pull his cloak tighter around him. However, the Sun shone so brightly that the traveller removed his cloak in the heat of his own accord. The Sun proved persuasion is a stronger ally than force when it comes to achieving your ends, and language is no different.

For me, words have always carried incredible power. Whether a spark for the imagination, a call to action, or the prose of persuasion.

Branding is no exception. It relies on both words and pictures to tell the complete story. Too often, however, brands are visually stunning but have little of interest to say. They are all too easy on the eye, but conversation is not their strong suit, and you can’t help but feel a little empty once you move beyond the surface sheen.

In fact, it is impossible to build a strong brand without considering the impact of words, starting with the name.

The name plays a pivotal role for any brand. More than merely the legally trademarked moniker, names send a strong signal of intent. And when done well, they can create a powerful call to action that works itself into not only our minds but also our mouths. We now “Skype” one another in the same way that our parents used to “Hoover” the house, and brands like “Virgin” are no longer synonymous simply with sex, as per their basic dictionary definition.

Nowadays, names are developing their own brand cachet to the point that they are even reducing our reliance on taglines. Over the years, there have been some great taglines that will forever be remembered by their loyal audiences, irrespective of the most recent campaign. Apple and Nike are both iconic examples of brands that worked a tagline to their advantage in building their profile and presence over time, but now they focus people’s attention purely on their names to build brand loyalty. Names are now taking on both roles, delivering a single, much simpler, more direct and, ultimately, more powerful punch.

On the other hand, directness can sometimes work to your brand’s disadvantage. The urgency of Nike’s “Just Do It” just doesn’t do it for many brands where service levels require a few more comfort cues.

I remember reading a great example of this in John Simmon’s book, “The Invisible Grail”, in which he wrote about the types of advert that you often see in the front windows of cafés – “Experience breakfast chef wanted”. It’s a fairly straightforward message to understand and act upon, but it reveals very little of the character of the café in question. With a little more thought for language and consideration for the tone of the message, another venue wrote this advert – “Charming, intelligent, waiting staff. One more wanted”. The difference, and therefore the impact, is palpable, and it’s this understanding of the power of speech that Pret A Manger employed when they wrote their own recruitment advert – “We are opening new Pret stores, one at a time, no rush. And we need to employ more wonderful people”. They are clearly able to communicate a fair amount about the organisation’s values through the words they use, helping people decide whether this is a brand where they would like to work or not.

When it comes to creating any call to action, it is vital to remember that the right words will always evoke the right response. Choose them wisely.

What’s the more, the right words can do so much to touch your audience’s emotions.

I, for one, love my coffee. So what better way to get me even more excited about great coffee than great writing that revels in the brand. Puccino’s, for example, is a family-owned, UK café chain with an exuberant philosophy that puts a premium on its off–beat personality and exceptional service. This exuberance takes flight on takeaway cups that read “Cola is for wimps” in scrawled handwriting. Sugar packs claiming to be “Pillow for earphones” or “Not one of those handwarmers”. Paper bags that proudly pronounce “Carrying stuff around is the new leaving it where it is”. And, my favourite, in–store posters that greet customers with these words: “Of all the coffee bars in all the towns in all the world, you walk into me”.

Not only is it consistently great copywriting, this is also real emotion. And, if you follow any of the posts on the various blog sites and feeds where this branding has appeared, you’ll instantly witness the warmth and connection that customers feel for the brand – and for coffee, their daily salvation.

McVitie’s Jaffa Cakes have also used an equally insightful tone of voice on their packaging in the past to reach out to their customers, playing up an envious element of the brand that meant people were often unwilling to share the Jaffas – the packs announced “This box is empty” and “Don’t even think about it!”. In the same way that Puccino’s ensured the daily grind was anything but routine for their coffee and their customers, so Jaffa Cakes decided that greed was good and they should relish the opportunity to divide and conquer.

In the corporate world, the power of speech was not lost on IBM when they came out of one of the most difficult periods of their entire history. “We decided not to die”, declared the first of their Sweet Sixteen decisions that transformed the business, and the 2001 annual report did much more than provide a report on a corporation’s travails, it told a gripping, “no–holds–barred” story of company fighting for its life – tales of “big battles, stinging defeats and gritty comebacks. Unexpected alliances, daring forays and game–changing discoveries”. Corporate jargon made way for a visceral tone that portrayed the simple emotion and sheer humanity of the transformation, the stories that sat behind the numbers, the people behind the pictures.

Language like this can reveal so much more than the individual words themselves. And for many companies, it can sometimes be the difference between life and death. It hits you right between the eyes and leaves its indelible mark, but it’s not the only way to work your message.

Persuasion is an equally powerful tool, as Apple found when they made a subtle change to the wording of their recommendations on the iTunes store – from “iTunes recommends” to “Listeners also bought”. The recommendations now came from people’s peers not the company, a factor that theoretically contributed to an impressive uplift in sales via this channel.

Amazon has always used a similar approach – as do a raft of other online stores – and this will only grow in significance in line with the various social media tools that now allow unprecedented levels of discussion in a public forum. Influencing those discussions may be more complex, but establishing an authentic and engaging tone of voice is a critical path to follow if you are simply to join the discussion, let alone influence the outcome through persuasion.

Brand and corporate blogs are still struggling to understand their role in this new media landscape, and having to rely on language alone leaves them feeling a little exposed. There are no logos to leverage, no visual cues to hide behind, no lectern to provide protection for the most sensitive areas. Words, and words alone, must take centre stage.

As I’m sure you must have realised by now, I love words. They have inspired and intrigued me since I learned to read and write, but it is their ability to paint pictures in the mind’s eye that gives them their special power. They say a picture is worth a thousand words – and I would tend to agree with the impact that an image can achieve – but what grabs me is the potential for a single word to tell ten thousand stories.

The brands included here, from Rice Bubbles to IBM, all understand their role as storytellers. And for a brand to attract believers, it must have something to say.

The power of imagination

You’ll know from my last post that a good quote can go a long way, so it’s fitting that this post starts with one.

“We have to believe in the power of imagination because it's all we have, and ours is stronger than theirs.”

I found it written in the booklet that came with “Out Spaced”, a B–sides and rarities compilation album by Welsh psychedelic rock band, the Super Furry Animals. Not the most obvious place to find a quote for a blog about branding, but then Super Furry Animals have always been a band full of surprises.

What I like about this quote is not so much the point it makes about reliance on our imagination, but the fact that it presents imagination as a competitive element.

I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve heard so–called brainstorms begin with those infamous words, “There’s no such thing as a bad idea”, only to have those very same words prove their author a liar at least half a dozen times within the first five minutes. All too often, people view creativity as an excuse to express their artistic alter ego, without actually applying their imagination to the problem at hand.

Imagination in branding is critical.

And it's even more critical to remember that ideas are not simply good or bad, but actually better or worse. That's the real difference that makes not only great brands but also great agencies. A refusal to settle for the mediocre in the dogged pursuit of creative excellence, even if it means having to deflate a few dreams and even shatter some egos.