Advertising with Grief - Budweiser, Cheerios, and Iconic Brand Assets

Advertising can be very effective when it engages human emotions, but the most distasteful misuse of advertising’s power is when negative feelings are leveraged for unashamed gain. When Prince died earlier this year, dozens of print ads appeared in purple, many from brands that had nothing to do with the musician. Some were subtle tributes, but some were overtly branded - as if the company’s priority was to ensure you tied their brand to the deceased (which of course was their ultimate goal, regardless of how they spun their intentions).

Cheerios released an ad that, at first glance, seemed subtle in its branding, but the Cheerio dotting the “i” is actually pretty obvious.

Getting ready for a bowlful of complaints.

General Mills, the company that makes Cheerios, faced a wave of complaints, and they pulled the ad.

Alcohol manufacturers were also quick to jump on the opportunity of Prince’s death, which was doubly transparent because Prince was well-known to be a non-drinker.

Maker's Mark - Probably not Prince's beverage choice.

Prince almost certainly would not nave endorsed a booze manufacturer when he was alive, so the association was distasteful and disrespectful to the person that Prince was - he may have at least enjoyed an occasional bowl of Cheerios.

In 2002, Budweiser created a Superbowl ad that aired only once. It was a “tribute” to New York City and the human tragedy that struck the United States on September 11th of the previous year. A slightly revised version of the ad was run once more on the 10th anniversary of 9/11.

The former executive vice president of Anheuser-Busch Global Creative said at the time, "We filmed in New York City. We had a helicopter going over the Brooklyn Bridge. Mayor Giuliani let us into the city - the only film company of any sort right after 9/11. To actually come into air space with our helicopter to film the Clydesdales - it was amazing - just amazing.”

It is a powerful ad - it looks beautiful, its tone is perfect, and it was widely praised at the time. It received particular praise because the company’s logo is absent until the end.

My question is this: the Budweiser Clydesdales are one of the most iconic, recognizable brand assets in the United States - so why did Budweiser show their logo at all?

It takes a brave executive to keep their logo off an advertisement for any reason, but the respect and honour an unbranded tribute provides would have been ample reason to do so. With such iconic brand assets, an ad with no corporate logo would be undeniably powerful, much less exploitative, and yet it would still be unmistakably “Budweiser.”

You can argue that Cheerios took an unbranded approach with their Prince tribute, but paying tribute to a fallen rock star seems much more opportunistic than providing a moment of support to a city or a nation - and if you can’t use a person’s brand image without their consent in life, then how can it conscionably be used after their death?

I believe that Budweiser’s corporate heart was in the right place with their tribute advertisement, but the logo placement at the end makes it crystal clear that their platitudes aren’t as important as selling more beer - which makes it a little harder to swallow. Budweiser could have played it a lot cooler if they let their horses do the talking. Wouldn’t that ad have been exponentially more powerful?

Chasing the "Big Idea" - Do Your Research

Marketing agencies have traditionally prioritized “the big idea.” It’s the sexiest part of the advertising process, and it embodies a lot of the mojo that marketing agencies get paid for – it is often suggested that the big idea is what clients get billed for. The Big Idea is traditionally what elevates a brand’s advertising to something that is bigger, fancier, and even more attractive that the brand itself. It often draws upon assets that may have nothing to do with the brand, drawing the glow of those parallel assets into its orbit. Celebrity endorsements are the most obvious example – if some superstar chooses to eat a particular snack food, then it must be pretty great – right? But does an endorsement actually reveal anything substantial about the product itself?

Sometimes a big idea may highlight a key asset of a brand, and this approach is fantastic if a brand already possesses fantastic assets. WestJet has built its advertising upon a ‘personable personality’ – their people are super-nice, and they have collectively come to represent the WestJet brand advantage. In a service industry, the human touch is almost always the most relevant asset to customers – as long as it’s a positive asset.

With product marketing, most people understand that Coca Cola is the ‘Real Thing.’ Coke was the inventor and originator of cola, so positioning themselves as “The Real Thing” rings true because it is. Their first-mover advantage as the originator of a beverage segment is integral to the brand, and it still seems relevant well over a century after its creation. Apple Computers told us to “Think Different” in 1997, and suggested in doing so that they were thinking differently already. Their approach became a differentiator in a world of computer products that were not differentiated, and in the early days of the internet, this spoke to a very large segment of users who did not want to work with the status quo – they were riding the early days of a computing revolution, and revolutions are best-fostered by those who think differently. Apple understood the power of leveraging a key internal asset to resonate with external audiences.

Marketing agencies that are doing their job well will ensure that a “big idea” will always ladder back to core truths in the brand. They ensure that statements can always be backed up, if not by empirical facts, then at least by measured perceptions and expectations of the brand. “Think Different” worked because Apple computer users already saw themselves as rebels, and people who generally resisted the status quo wanted to join that club. 

Marketers sometimes reach for a big idea without doing their homework, and these are the folks that give marketing a bad name. A big idea may seem wonderful in the moment, but if it doesn’t stick in the real world, it isn’t going to work in the long-term – unsubstantiated ideas are just bad sales pitches. 

The other side of generating a “big idea” rests in doing your brand research. This homework takes time and it takes insight, but it is a process that doesn’t require a loft office space full of interns to do it for you. Understanding your brand assets and attributes will reveal all sorts of marketing ideas, advertising copy and sales pitches that you never considered, and they will be rooted in brand truth. The process requires a careful assessment and analysis of your brand assets, goals, and your target audience. Navigating this process is fundamentally what marketing agencies do (or should do) – and if the human resources they bring to bear to your project are within your budget, then I highly recommend hiring a professional team to do this work. However, as the owner and key representative of your brand, shouldn’t you be the one to fully understand it? Either way, professionals add significant value, but you may find that you can build this road yourself, and the path will be infinitely more comfortable and familiar as a result.

Tom Cruise and Arizona - Understanding your Personal Brand

‘Personal Brand’ doesn’t always mean that you, a person, are your brand – but it can. Many celebrities are a brand, and that brand is the primary source of value they provide. When Tom Cruise is hired for a movie, the producers understand that he will do a workmanlike, professional job on set (I understand that those are key assets to the “Tom Cruise brand”), but those aren’t the brand attributes they are employing. If a “brand” represents expectations that people bring to bear on that brand (and that is a textbook definition of what “brand” means in a modern sense), then the movie producers hire Tom Cruise because they understand which assets he brings to the film after it’s all done. People generally know what to expect from a Tom Cruise film – they have a set of expectations that they trust will be met by the film’s star. Those attributes reflect onto the film content too, because their expectations are high that Tom Cruise will only star in a movie that is made with a certain level of quality – he must choose associations with care that will further support and enhance his brand.

So, you’re not Tom Cruise. How does this apply to you?

You have a personal brand, right now. It may not be broadly understood by thousands – it may only be known by dozens – but there are at least a dozen people out there with clear expectations of what you can (and can’t) provide. They have a sense of the assets you bring with you – your experiences, your education, your personality, goals, and your values. There exists a sense of trust that is already established – even if their trust is in fact distrust. Either way, they have a preconceived sense of your value and ability. This is, in its essence, your personal brand – it’s how your unique collection of assets is understood and perceived by others, and how that understanding affects and motivates their expectations of you is what you need to grasp. It will affect the choices you make, and it will influence the success you have in achieving your chosen goals.

A personal brand can be influenced much like you’d influence a conventional brand. You can advertise, you can seed key messages, you can engage public relations outreach, you can carefully craft your social media messaging, and you can even hire a sales team to champion your virtues. The challenge arises when active marketing runs against the grain of who you really are. In other words, if you are a thoughtful introvert, and your personality works beneficially with your career goals (let’s say you are a children’s writer), then gregarious advertisements and cheesy marketing statements will ring false. If your audience doesn’t like what they are seeing, and if it doesn’t resonate with them as being authentic, then overt “marketing” probably won’t work. With personal branding, being true to yourself is everything – because if you’re selling something other than yourself, you’re going to hate the results.

They key element with personal branding is fundamental to understanding any brand – you have to understand who your target audience is first. If you think your target audience is “everyone” then you are wrong. Even religion doesn’t target everyone – some people simply aren’t going to buy what you’re selling. You need to consider geographical boundaries (if you aren’t planning to ever visit Arizona, don’t target an audience there). You need to consider demographics. Psychographics. Lots of graphics. And it’s not difficult to do – if you can’t choose who to target, at least make a long list of who you’re not targeting – like Arizona, for example. 

The point is – if your personality is big enough to reach effortlessly around the world, then world domination is a goal worth pursuing, and the goods that you are marketing (yourself) may be up for the task – but you still have to be true to yourself. If your personality is less enormous, but your goals are also more measured, then understanding your best self is your best advantage. If you are reaching for a targeted audience, then the world (if not your home town) is a big place – and with your best-self presented well, you will find your target. They are out there, and without knowing it, they already looking for you. 

Understand how to communicate the best “you” that you possibly can, and then do it.

Marketing Killed the Radio Star - Authenticity, identity, user experience, and Friday Night Videos

Friday nights provided limited entertainment options for North American teenagers in the early- to mid-eighties. Most kids were home by 11pm under curfew, far too buzzed on caffeine and nicotine to sleep. Music was an important part of most teenage identities, and in a pre-internet age, everyone was desperate for cues about new music, styles and trends. Lyrics were pored over like religious texts, and album cover photos were studied and memorized. Radio broadcasts were recorded to cassette tapes in the hope that a favorite song would play during the 45-minute recording time allowed on the cassette (yes, music has been bootlegged for decades). It was DIY identity-building, vague enough to allow plenty of room for creative reinterpretation of styles. Hearing a new song by a favorite band on the radio was a legitimate rush – a conversation point for weeks afterwards. We rooted for our favorite bands, and radio airplay was proof of success.

Friday Night Videos dropped into teen culture during this time like a creepy uncle who was worldly enough to know and share the latest trends. It did so with sound and vision. MTV was only available on cable, and I didn’t know anyone rich enough to get specialty cable, but Friday Night Videos aired to the public on NBC, starting at 12:30am. We received it in my Ontario hometown via the Buffalo NY NBC station. I stayed up each week to watch it, exhausted after a busy school day and a slow evening of suburban meandering, but I remained wired with anticipation to see and hear something new. Bands became more interesting than they had ever been before – in videos, they were real people.

Terry David Mulligan bringing the CanCon on Good Rockin' Tonight

Canadian television jumped onto the free content music videos provided with Good Rockin’ Tonight, a 90-minute show that aired at 11:30pm (which found me slightly less sleepy than its American counterpart). Canadian content rules applied though, so GRT was at least half-devoted to Bryan Adams, Corey Hart, Loverboy, Luba, Jane Siberry, and Platinum Blonde. I clearly remember the build-up to the debut of Platinum Blonde’s new single “Crying Over You” in 1985 – and I wondered what happened to the edge that made their debut album interesting. The video, in hindsight, was an advertisement for the band-as-lifestyle, painting them as jet-setting international rock stars. That didn’t interest me much, and it seemed a pretty unlikely reality for a band hadn’t really broken out of Canada, but Terry David Mulligan promoted them like Led Zeppelin anyway. Even to my teenage eyes, style overwhelmed their substance – videos were new, and they misjudged the balance the medium required. Their brand development seemed inauthentic. Videos affirmed authenticity in some bands, but they also made inauthentic overtures appear to be boldly, obviously contrived - an affliction that Canadian bands disproportionately succumbed to.

Friday Night Videos, unburdened by any American content rules, oddly focused on British bands, which suited my tastes much better. The Police, The Clash, Bananarama, Elvis Costello, The Cure, Duran Duran, Big Country, Def Leppard, Dire Straits and Thomas Dolby were the acts that seemed to get all the attention. Other than Madonna, FNV may as well have been a BBC broadcast. More important to me though, the music selection seemed broad, vibrant, and global. Good Rockin’ Tonight played the sound of my home, but teenagers want to dream bigger than that, and Friday Night Videos played the soundtrack of my aspirations.

Looking back, music videos were always really just advertisements for a band, but they never felt that way in their early days. One of the earliest acknowledged “music videos” was for The Beatles’ “Rain.” It was filmed for American television so the band could “appear” on TV without having to travel overseas. Those UK bands on Friday Night Videos seemed to be doing the same thing – each video was a surrogate for the actual band, and it bridged geographic distance and economics. Nobody I knew could afford to go to a City concert, even if a band toured into Canada, but those Friday night broadcasts allowed us to “see” the bands and share in the experience with our peers. We’d talk about each video for a week afterwards, riding a Greyhound bus to Toronto to scour thrift and surplus shops on Saturday to try and match the UK fashions (while Platinum Blonde fans went to Le Chateau).

So many bands in the early days of music videos seemed to be anything but commodities – my friends and I built our identity on the fleeting cues in their videos, and authenticity was never questioned in the experience. It never occurred to me that the videos were “commercials” for the band, because they were never presented as such. Each video played was a special event – a victory for a band that suddenly became globally visible, and it was even more thrilling than hearing their song on the radio. All most teenagers want is the possibility of personal recognition to a broad audience - the dream that your voice may someday be heard.

Go to YouTube sometime, and play connect-the-dots with 80s musician acne – most of them were working-class kids who got dropped in front of a film camera for the first time in their lives. They were blotchy-faced, awkward, and totally relatable to the rest of us. There was great comfort in that. It seems that ‘celebrity’ is now the goal with music videos, often independent of talent. They sell personality, not creativity. I can’t understand how ordinary youth can see themselves reflected in a Disney-trained kid who has already endured 10,000 hours of rehearsal. It can’t be the same experience, and I wonder how it can be legitimately inspiring. Maybe it isn’t. Maybe that isn’t the point anymore, or maybe it never was the point in the first place – but it still worked that way when I was a teen, if only by accident. In the absence of internet-fueled culture, we were grasping at straws, and we were filling in the blanks with our own ideas. Few Canadian punks could afford a true leather jacket, but second-hand lumber jackets were a fine alternative. Doc Martens were hard to find, but army surplus boots were plentiful and cheap. Durannies couldn’t access fine-fashion suit jackets, but a little re-stitching gave new life to thrift store cotton blazers. We were fitting in, while still somehow being ourselves, and we were thinking for ourselves alongside a soundtrack that could challenge us as often as it entertained us.

Did videos initiate the long, slow decline we’ve seen in the music business? Did those video surrogates suck the lifeblood out of band tours? Did they feed an ever-shrinking attention span in young people? Or did the commercial nature of videos become the point of the medium? Did music itself become more commercial, and less personal? In other words, did marketing ruin the music business? Maybe. All I know is there was a time on those Friday nights when The Cure was played back-to-back with Def Leppard and Cyndi Lauper, and nobody turned the channel. There was enough room in the user experience for multiple genres, tastes and styles. There’s something to that.