A man must have a code…

OK, I’ve been busy: so I’m returning to well-trodden ground. The Wire is still my favourite TV drama of all-time, even better than ER, Six Feet Under, The West Wing and any others I can’t think of right now. I wrote about The Wire a few months ago, when I just completed watching Series 3.

If anything, Series 4 is even better, as it tackles the tragedy of under-funded schools, which only seem to act as feeders for the Corners and drug gangs. We also see much more of the politics behind the streets, and it’s not pretty.  The final episodes of that series are as tough as anything I’ve ever watched. Series 5 maintains a high standard, if only occasionally scaling such awesome heights.

A few weeks ago I stumbled across a couple of fantastic Youtube clips that are pretty essential viewing. They’re really only for people who’ve already experienced the show, as some of the spoilers are serious. And they’re definitely not suitable for children or open-plan offices…

A wonderful montage of 100 terrific lines from all five series…

…and a series of clips from the first four series. Not all of these links still work, but there’s still 26 minutes of tremendous TV in here, and I’d wager watching them would be a much better use of your time than, well, almost anything you could do in that time.

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That’s it sir, you’re leaving…

I recently heard a BBC Radio 4 documentary with Ed Byrne about the demise of student union bars. Apparently, despite the growth in student numbers, sales of alcohol in student unions have halved in the last decade. His downbeat (at least to me) conclusion is that hardly anyone seems in the slightest bit bothered.

In my day, students didn’t have mobile phones, and the interweb barely existed. So to meet up with friends from other parts of the campus, we’d wander up to “The Ram” (our union watering hole) to see who was around. The Student Bar was slightly grotty, but it was cheap, friendly, and it was ours. It reflected our personality, we planned and ran the events, the food, the music. That personality and ‘closeness’ helped it stay in our minds. We all still remember The Ram fondly, even if we acknowledge its griminess through the clear lenses of 20 years’ hindsight

Earlier this month I organised my brother’s Stag Do in Cardiff, although this part of our experience could have been obvious in any city in the UK: in fact, that’s my point. Cardiff has undergone a terrific transformation in recent years. The City Centre has mostly been revamped with bright and shiny shops, new pedestrian zones and swanky bars and hotels. Noone in our group was very familiar with Cardiff, but the general perception was that there would be lots of ‘chain bars’ that could be good for a drink or two. How right we were.

Around every corner there was a ha-ha, Revolution, Steam Bar, or tiger tiger nightclub. These places often boast huge glass frontages to better show the potential drinkers outside all the beautiful / trendy / smart people within; all of them glorified fishbowls. And it was obvious that in many towns and cities around the UK, the same sort of people were circulating around the same furniture, listening to the same piped playlists, in the same brands of clothes, drinking the same bottled beers or ‘speciality’ cocktails served by staff in the same uniforms.

In their search to deliver ‘a consistent brand experience’, it feels to me like these bars and clubs have removed their soul. The constrictions of this branded ‘experience’ has sucked the life out of them. You can almost see the designers’ sketches of the decor and layouts, and hear the brainstorming meetings that developed Private Karaoke Rooms or theme nights.

I’m not saying I prefer the seediness of a student bar, but we did have a very good time at The Queens Vaults, a ‘proper pub’ with massive screen, pool tables and beer at barely £2/pint (compared to £3.50+ elsewhere). It’s definitely not to everyone’s tastes, and probably not even to mine. But it had a strong sense of who it wanted to be and just went out and did it, and that made it different, something I remember in a good way.

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Don’t you want me…?

I quite like watching Top Gear, but I’m certainly not a ‘petrolhead’. Every Saturday as I take my daughter to her swimming lesson, our neighbour is assiduously cleaning, treating and buffing his immaculately-presented cars. I smile and chat, inwardly wincing with both guilt and relief that I’m not like that.

But when Rachel’s car finally gave up the ghost, we opted for something new. The manufacturer & model isn’t important, as I have it on good authority from many friends that my experiences are pretty much the norm; which is a pretty poor indictment of, well, lots of things.

Besides a home, a car is one of the most expensive purchases most people make. As such it should be a source of excitement, pleasure and no little thought. But the acres of press ads from every brand simply turn me off. The offers change every month (or so it seems) and comparisons between models aren’t especially easy, as even some websites seem to praise everything indiscriminately.

One brand in the UK has extended the Government’s scrappage scheme to incentivise people to trade in old cars for a shiny new model. We needed to take advantage of both this and indeed a contract finance scheme, so at least two signficant decisions were made for us. We called a nearby dealer and booked a test drive.

When we arrived the dealership was shiny, clean, and silent: not silent in a reverential, respectful kind of way, but more like a morgue; cold, unwelcoming, almost intimidating. There were no other customers. Although we had pre-booked an appointment, noone came forward to greet us or introduce themselves. Noone asked us a single question about what we wanted in a car, if we had a family or a dog, likely mileage. Noone even launched into any sales patter about a model’s features, or the differences between different specifications. We had asked to test-drive a diesel, but the only car available was a 2½ year old petrol model with a very different engine and driving experience.

But we were making definite buying noises; asking about finance contracts, deposits, delivery leadtimes. We even told them outright we weren’t interested in trekking round lots of different manufacturers. Is that the best they can do? It was though we were intruding on some private grief.

So we went elsewhere, albeit with the same manufacturer. We phoned four different dealers for a quote on the finance deals, with the same specification, and received four different prices that varied the ultimate cost of the same new car by up to £1,500. Some demanded no deposit, others required 15%. The monthly payments varied from around £200 to more than £250. The final payment values were all over the place. And none of them could explain why their quote varied from any of the others.

We’re really pleased with our car. It drives nicely, has lots of nice features we’ve not had before, and the finance is affordable. But even as we drove it away, I felt only relief to be out of the dealership, knowing I didn’t have to go back in there. What does this say about the state of car marketing? Why was the experience of buying it such a soulless, life-sapping experience? I’d love someone to explain…

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I got a fever … and the only prescription is more cowbell

Usually the themes for my blog posts gestate over a period of weeks or at least days, but a few days ago I was listening to a podcast that mentioned a scene from Annie Hall, and I felt compelled to watch it again. Fabulous.

Apologies: some of these clips take a while to load up. Please bear with it, they’re worth it…

And of course, Youtube offered me countless other clips of Christopher Walken. 20 minutes later, I had a list, and a tribute to a pretty unique personality.

Christopher Walken is a tremendous actor. To be fair, his filmography does include some fairly schlocky choices, but his performance as Nick in The Deer Hunter is greater than 99.9% of all actors could ever aspire to. Robert de Niro had the screen time, but he was the beating heart of the story, the town’s loss that needed to be regained, the humanity that was destroyed by war. 

To use a sporting analogy, he’s often more of ‘an impact player’, taking a supporting role but usually stealing the show: Sleepy Hollow, Catch Me If You Can, True Romance and ‘the watch scene’ from Pulp Fiction…

When he leads or carries a film, it’s his performance that is the highlight in perhaps a flawed production, such as in King of New York or The Dead Zone, where he dominates the film with his presence, and his performance often enables us to ‘forgive’ other elements that aren’t as successful.

He’s spawned numerous imitators – not least Kevin Spacey on Simon Mayo’s BBC Radio Show – thanks to his unconventional style of speech and rhythmic delivery, but what I really like about him is the ability to be utterly convincing as a vulnerable lost soul (Annie Hall, The Deer Hunter), a psychopath (King of New York) and in comedic persona.  He was even to focus of a hoax that he was going to run for President… If you’ve not seen his appearances on Saturday Night Live, you’re in for a treat here.

He also recently made a fantastic appearance on Jonathan Ross’ chat show, reading Lady Gaga song lyrics (seriously)…

And then, even allowing for his dramatic range and comedic talents, he goes yet further with this brilliant performance in the video for Fatboy Slim’s ‘Weapon of Choice’. Is there anything the man can’t do?

This is proper dancing (directed by Spike Jonze, lately of ‘Where the Wild Things Are’). Tom Cruise’s cameo comic routine in Tropic Thunder is a pale imitation. I’d wager that most of Hollywood wishes they were half as cool as Chistopher Walken: I know I do.

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You didn’t stop to make me feel better by leaving me a card or a letter…

The last few weeks have been a real throwback: a large national institution, part of the social fabric of our nation, has been lambasted in the press for poor management and failing to adapt to the realities of the digital age. Its workforce, one of the last still heavily unionised, has been attacked for pretty much the same sins. Postal workers have been on strike with little or no signs of agreement. But in the last couple of days, sense appears to have prevailed, at least for now.

As Chris Barraclough wrote, what bothers me most were comments in the media that effectively sneered…

“we don’t really need the post these days, do we? I do everything on my Blackberry…” the subtext being “do we really have to subsidise the post for Ethel Miggins living in rural Cumbria?” (Yes, you do).

The mail service in the UK is Universal, and that’s not something to be taken lightly: very few things are any more. 26m households have a letterbox of some form, more than have a TV or a phone. 

Post connects people in a way email or twitter can’t. Its predicted demise will impact most on the people least able to use or afford the internet – the old or very young, the isolated, the poor. ONS statistics for 2009 indicate 64% of the over 65s claim to have never used the internet. 30% of UK households (nearly 8 million) don’t have internet access. My daughters squeal with excitement if they get anything in the post.

Crucially, it’s the important things that get put ‘into writing’; official documents, Christmas / Birthday / Mothers’ Day cards, presents, thankyou notes… All these are things that show ‘we’re thinking of you even if we can’t be with you’.

Significantly, ‘snail mail’ requires effort. We have to buy paper, a card, an envelope, stamps. We write a personal message, wrap the present, we have to go to the post box. Perhaps this required effort is the reason we (only) use the post for ‘special’ occasions. Our personal investment is much more important than a dashed-off, disposable email or text message.

And for the recipient, post can be truly tangible, keepable and have historical value. We keep cards and letters. We print ‘important’ emails. Because if it means something, we like to have a copy. Letters, diaries, photos are the lifeblood of personal and family memories, the everyday history of us all.

It’s in this context that the mail service provides a lifeline for many people. On a commercial level, Direct Mail still delivers high quality customers and donors for many brands and charities, without even thinking of the vast new market for online rentals and purchases. Posties are a symbol of and part of the fabric of our communities. Many isolated or single elderly people may only see one person each day – their postie. We might not feel it’s very crucial, but then we really notice when the post is late or delayed.

The London Review of Books recently published an excellent article written by a postal worker. It lays out the dehumanising impact of ever-creeping business change – new shifts or rounds, new practices, part-time workers. It’s a sorry tale of  a failure to recognise the broader societal values the postal service provides to us all. Shareholder Value seems to hold the dominant card, yet “Granny Smith” needs the services far more than any corporate body, who could (and probably will) transfer its business to TNT or a.n.other service.

It may well be that the recent strikes are the last throes of a dying industry and out-moded working practices, but we would all be poorer without it.

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It’s always better when we’re together…

People who write about marketing are often on the lookout for an apt analogy through which to make their point. This is partly because marketing is largely applied common sense, and using something more learn-ed to illustrate an idea lends credibility to both the writer and indeed to marketing itself.

Science, and especially natural science, is a banker for this approach. An unlikely pairing of science and brand behaviour can ignite our brain with sparks of cognitive dissonance. Suddenly the links between Antipodean Spiderwebs and Retailers’ Planograms seem positively revelatory. Often the science has to be stripped back to a soundbite, much to the dismay of people like my previous boss (a PHD biologist). But there is often a good point in all that. Marketing cleverness is often constructed out of flawed science. But if the marketing is clever, what’s the harm in that?

Such is the case in an article about Swarms by Chuck Brymer from 2008. He’s since expanded this to a whole book, but this article seems to do it for me…

Watch a school of fish swim (or a flock of swallows fly). They have no leader, no one telling them what to do. Instead, they are paying close attention to the fish next to them in order to move at the same time in the same direction…The comparison of swarm behaviour to human interaction is increasingly relevant. Digital technology has made it possible for human communities to behave like swarms of our own…there are no geographic borders, no boundaries and no limits.

I do not claim to have the first idea about how real swarms work, or if this describes a swarm accurately. But recent stories from the Twittersphere make it clear that this sort of behaviour can and does happen. Trending topics, protests or ideas can all be mobilised within minutes across the world; some serious, like #Trafigura, #iranelection, #welovethenhs, #janmoir, and others less so, like #unseenprequels,  #cbeebiesrock, or #omnomnom…

This has apparently left the mainstream press wondering what hit them: when does an online campaign for free speech become an ‘orchestrated campaign’ or mob rule? Where previously people were reliant on a few sources for their news, now stories can develop before the media even knew they had happened. The implications for the media and for brands are important.

Consumers can develop fully-fledged ideas about a brand without actually ever seeing its advertising or packaging. As such it is absolutely vital, now more than ever, that brands must be built on a strong idea, and a series of consistent and authentic values. Even more important, brands must remain (and be seen to remain) true to those values in everything they say and do.

At the same time, the old approach of simply broadcasting a brand message is increasingly insufficient. No longer are consumers all passive recipients of brand messages…

Gary Larson's The Far Side

…Brands need to think a little less about the story they want to tell, and a little more about creating that story in partnership with their brand communities. Nike runners can create their own online training schedules & routes and compile training playlists. I am following a friend’s marathon training on Facebook (he’s doing very well!). Brands who already have discussion forums on their websites need to start listening to and learning from these discussions, adapting and creating new content that meets, reflects and anticpates the needs and attitudes of its participating members.

Not only is the message something that needs careful collaboration, but it is quite clearly true that not all members of the swarm are created equal. Ultimately the swarm decides if you are peer or predator, and it only takes a few fish to send the school scattering to escape a predator, or a few ants to send the colony swarming to a new food source. Brands must seek to engage the people who inform and influence their communities. They need to become both more conversational and more agile. Content needs to be easier to share, and perhaps more bite-sized. It’s simply not possible or desirable to say everything about the brand in every piece of communications. But everything must come out of and build on the core idea and values. In this way the sum of multiple messages can be far greater than the sum of the parts.

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