So I've just got back from IPA 2 and I'm taking stock. This past week as a tutor has taught me so much (arguably more than my sleep-deprived experience as a delegate ever did) but what are the stand-out thoughts?
Well, amongst the haul of mental bric-a-brac there are half a dozen key learnings, two or three ad-legend administered bon-mots, and one deeply acknowledged self-warning (Jägermeister truly is the lairiest drink of them all). However, there is only really one subject that is still occupying my thoughts on a minute by minute basis. This brain engulfing topic is no mere factoid, quote or drinking rule though. It's a big, fat, hairy question: do great adverts from the past really matter any more?
The whole conundrum was thrown-up on the fourth night. We had left the delegates to their pitch deliberations and popped out for a curry. I have no idea who brought it up first, but soon our whole table was consumed with this discussion. Everyone seemed to have an opinion. Cases began to form that suggested that if the grads of today didn't care about this sort of history, they would have lost something. Others argued that it doesn't really matter all that much, as it’s unhealthy to still consider communication greatness in terms of "ads". Some countered that, at the very least, a simple knowledge of ad-land’s historic canon could help a young ad-man/woman's credibility on the creative floor. And so on...
Well the fact is, regardless of my age and junior position, I really do think that this sort of stuff matters! I don't claim this to be anything even approaching objective fact, far from it. In fact, if you have a contrary opinion I'd love to hear it and I'll probably take it into account. It's just that I've been thinking about it hard for almost 7 days now and this is the conclusion that I have arrived at.
But why? Well, it's not just because of my love for ads (and heaven knows that I really do love ads, I always have) and it’s not just down to a sentimental pining for a sense of pride in our industry. No, knobs to all of that emotional puffery, as I listened to the curry-fuelled debate escalate it struck me that there were bigger contentions to defend. So I took these chunkier arguments onboard and chewed them over for a bit. I walked around the flat, biroed things onto receipts, dropped in to share my gibberings with a CD and, finally, stared out of the window - allot. Slowly, very slowly, an argument emerged. Broadly speaking, I suppose it fits into the “learn from the past to benefit the future" school of thought, but if we're going to be specific this is it...
I believe that it's important for us to have a knowledge of our industry's most historic work because learning from it might help us continue to make an impact on popular culture.
Now, steady on there! Yes, I know that “digital” has had a chuffing significant impact on this sort of thing. Yes, I know that through its new inroads to public discussion it has pushed things forward immeasurably. However, part of me still suspects that the proliferation of useful channels doesn’t necessarily mean that we have gotten commensurately better at proposing conversations that spark the public’s imagination and bed-down into their everyday way of seeing things. That’s not to say that we have gotten any worse at this (in my opinion, there have been some incredible recent exponents – MeerKat being the most simples suggestion), but I have to believe that there is still stuff to be learned from the gold-standard historic examples.
It’s totally cool if you’re still not sure about all of this. No problem at all. But before I wind up, just for fun, why don’t we go on a little imaginary walk? Let’s go for a stroll down that good ol’ forum of popular culture and commercial exchange: the great British high-street.
So we’re walking down this perfectly ordinary thoroughfare and everything is as it should be. The sun is hiding behind a cloud, and people are still wearing sandals and shorts. A few particularly optimistic souls have even perched sun-glasses atop their heads. Hang-on, check her out! That’s a bit much isn’t it? It looks like she got a little over enthusiastic with the fake tan – someone’s been Tangoed! We giggle a little to each other and then push on. We stride past a news stand and check out the headlines on the sandwich boards. It looks like the Mirror has it in for ol’ Cameron again. They’re paraphrasing a new opinion poll and declare “PM MARMITE AS 50% STICK, 50% GET RID.”
The street has gotten busier now. The last Orange Wednesday screening has just finished and has let its audience into our avenue. Their sheer number means that everyone has started to blur into one shapeless throng and it’s harder than ever to focus on individuals. But then we pass the art-supplies store with the “Keep Calm and Carry On” poster in the window and there we just about manage to pick-out a few stragglers. Stood outside and peering in, there are two would-be-musos dressed head-to-toe in black, stroking their pointy chins over their immaculate roll-necks - real Milk Tray men.
We leave the crowd and explore a side-street where the morning’s market stools are still set-up and trading. There is fruit & veg, some random touristy stuff and lots of families milling up and down. Most of the 2.4s have brought their pets with them; there are all sorts, but we decide that we have particular soft-spots for a slightly mucky Dulux dog and a gorgeously golden and scampering Andrex puppy. Some bloke then attempts to sell us a watch. He’s tries-on a bit of patter, “Oi mate! Got some lovely watches here. Take a look at this sports piece, 20 quid and 100% waterproof, does exactly what it says on the tin”. We smile, turn our heads to focus on something else (anything else!) and try to duck out of the alleyway. As we leave, one of the stools blasts out the Beach Boys. It’s Barbara Anne and all we want to do is finish each line with “Babybel!”
So there we are. But enough stupid words from me. Let’s all just enjoythe lovely stuff below.
Every now and then something special comes along. However, in the shallows of the digital torrent, every “now” seems to be every five seconds and every “then” was 2 hours ago. Inspiring? Maybe. Numbing? Definitely.
But then, if you’re very lucky, something will cut through the morass. Something so coruscating and brilliant, that every fibre of your being is set alight with tiny twinkling pulses. The digital crusts nestling in the corners of your square eyes are sucked clear and you understand again. You comprehend how creativity is meant to make you feel (italicised here, because it’s easy to forget that this is the point – emotional mimesis; orchestrated compassion; feeling).
I am lucky enough to be able to say that such a revelation has recently occurred for me. I was making a cup of coffee the other day, when I bumped into one of our creatives. We started to chat and very soon I was listening to him rave about a little animation set-up he called “ Tokyo Plastic”. This was my lead.
I logged-on to take a little flick through their web-page (http://www.tokyoplastic.com)and BLOODY HELL!I feel like I need to resort to M&Sisms just to communicate how sodding impressive these guys are. “This is not just a little animation set-up; this is a style-soaking, innovation-drinking, genius-pissing little animation setup.” These guys make movies, short films, graphics and ads. They also design toys, t-shirts and dildos. They’ve worked with Microsoft, Aiwa, Mitsubishi, Guy Ritchie, Dreamworks SKG, AMD and Toyota; and have won the audience award at the Sundance film festival, the Flash Forward 3D category (three years in a row) and a D&AD pencil (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wDguaz5I98Q).
"Well good for them!" I hear you bleat...
Yes, I agree, all of that stuff is bollocks. Just lists and claims. Just words. So, what you really want to do is click onto the site to have a peep with your own eyes. The work speaks and acts for itself. You’ll be converted much before you have the chance to read even one word.
“Okay, but really does this really justify a blog post? Just paste in the link, god-damn it!”
Well, I get your point. But there is more… I promise.
Tokyo Plastic are a demonstration of something pretty radical. They are a glimpse, a glimmer, of the realisation of an idea that many of the sharpest minds in digital have only until now conceived of hypothetically.
“Oooohhh….big talk from the man at the keyboard!”
Maybe, but bare this in mind: they don’t have a central idea. They don’t have an umbrella thought. They don’t have a brand as we would understand it and build it. They just have lots of separate, brilliant, variously relevant and commercially productive pieces of content. All that sits at the centre is one intensely burning nugget of creativity (its founders- Sam Lanyon Jones and Drew Cope). This is what makes them different. This is what saves them from being buried. This is what makes them operate as a brand and is why they work as company.
“Okay…gulp, I get it, but surely you don’t think this is a model for all brands to follow”
Ho, ho, no! Far from it. I’ll leave that argument for Dylan Williams, thanks very much. But it is interesting to think, that it is a viable business model. Their set-up does work for them. That much cannot be denied. The rest of the inference, I shall have to leave up to you.
In my last post I discussed how it was important to understand the function of Twitter, if we are ever to use it to commercial ends. Accordingly, it now makes sense to do a little exploration to feel out the sorts of ways that this might be done.
The first thing to lie out in front of us is an affirmation that Twitter can, of course, be used to generate money. This should not be doubted; there is opportunity aplenty. However, there are some very important caveats that must not be overlooked.
Not least amongst these is Twitter’s reach. There has, admittedly, been an absolute orgy of media buzz surrounding the site since its inception 3 years ago. The world, his wife, dog and mistress claim to tweet these days (check out the clip below for confirmation of this).
I’ll think you’ll agree that it has all been very impressive. In fact, one might be forgiven for presuming that having a presence on Twitter is analogous to cradling the entirety of the world’s consumers in the palm of your brand’s hand.
However, although you could be forgiven, you wouldn’t be right. Far from it. In reality, Twitter can only be assumed to have around 2 million active users (at the turn of the year, ComScore reported a total of 1.9 million). Now this is fine, numbers are continuing to increase (HitWise recently claimed that Twitter has passed Digg for weekly users) and we have every reason to believe that this rise will continue through the year, but if it is mass coverage you want then look elsewhere. For example, it may not have satisfied intellectual curiosity in the same way, but an advert during the final of last year’s Britain’s Got Talent would have secured the gaze of 9 million more sets out eyeballs.
Next up in our run-down of considerations, is the type of relationship that Twitter provides. As mentioned, the site cannot promise the goliathan reach of the biggest and best TV spots, but what you do get is a very particular sort of interaction. Whilst your audience might not be huge, marshalling the site’s possibilities can procure a deeper and potentially more persuasive connection with the people that you are talking to. This sort of advertising is most definitely only of use to a very specific sort of client; floor detergents, for example, shouldn’t be looking to make in-roads any time soon. However, when all things client, brand and consumer are considered meticulously, this variety of tweet-based discourse can be devastatingly effective. A great case-study for this is the teaser campaign for Peep Show series 6. In the run up to its television launch this summer, the show’s writers Armstrong and Bain, have been weaving some incredible magic on the site. After setting-up and utilising fictitious user profiles, they have been tweeting as their shows’ characters; effectively playing out their lives in real-time. Fans have been aloud the chance to interact with the protagonists and hence enter into the dialogue of drawn-out virtual episodes. Pretty clever stuff, and the perfect thing to whip up expectation and devotion amongst the fan-base.
Another, “watch out” that should be attached to the development of Twitter-hosted relationships, is that the conversation you will hold will not be totally within your control. This is old news for digital enthusiasts but is worth pointing out nonetheless, as some brands have already felt the consequences of ignoring such an old truism. For an example, we need not look any further than the one shown below, where Skittles suffered dearly for streaming a live feed of brand related tweets on its homepage. I urge you just to click into the image and read the comments list – no further explanation is needed, just be aware of the risk involved.
Finally, it is vital that we remember that people are on the site for social reasons and not commercial ones. This seams all too obvious, but it’s worth reiterating that if you communicate in this medium you will need to add to the consumer experience and not leach from it. For evidence that this is actually achievable, we need only to look back to the Peep Show example above. However, this is just one example, and for those of us not re-launching one of the nations best loved comedies, new ingenious plans will have to be formulated. As a starting point, it is probably worth refreshing our understanding of the driving forces behind internet socialising, and then (with a newly heightened sensitivity to the consumer mindset) progress from there. Included below is a great little clip that certainly helped me clarify the old first principles.
So, as this quick minefield navigation draws to a close, it can be concluded that using Twitter as a commercial comms platform is a real proposition, but onethat (like any media opportunity) should be scrupulously deliberated in the context of the brand and all other alternative platforms. Either that or prepare for a grizzly war of attrition with Rob Manuel, Shitmaster and co.
Okay, so it’s Wednesday morning and I’m being bullied. It’s particularly bad today. This torment has been a part of my life for almost 3 years now, and recently it has become quite ferocious. My adversary is not big, not hulking and doesn’t flush my head down the toilet; but it is fiendish. I am being bullied by a question.
This particular morning, it’s so bad that I am forced to externalise. I blurt it out at my fellow academy member: “For God’s sake! What the hell is Twitter?”
Lilli, cool as a cucumber (as of per usual), curtly replies: “It’s where you update the world on what you’re up to, in 140 characters. It’s calling itself a micro-blogging service.” The pressure rises and the internal valves start to shake under the stress. I’ve probably turned red.
“No”, I seethe, “not what is it literally. What does it represent? What is its social function?”
“Ah” she says. Silence falls.
You see, plenty of ad folk have a fair grip on Twitter’s most obvious facilities (for those still catching up, a rather excellent clip explaining its most literal ins-and-outs is included below).
Our problem was that neither of us had a firm grasp on the far more slippery subject of its significance. Worse still, by the looks of things, neither did Twitter. No official line had been given on its reason for existence, its positioning, or its ambition.
You might think that all of this is really rather academic, and that the only solution I should be recommended is a planned course of tranquilisers. Well, I probably shouldn’t argue with you on the second point, but I will come at you full-force to contradict the former. I will stop you dead with: “if we don’t understand it’s social utility, we can’t use it as a commercial tool”. Not so academic anymore, huh?
As a result, in this update I will be exploring Twitter’s substance: its shape, how it sits, what it is. The first thing to get out of the way, is the pub-philosophy that Twitter simply represents the incredibly dull and self-important wittering into the dark about their preference of breakfast cereal (for a fully-fleshed out treatment of this aspersion, please see "The Twouble with Twitter").
Although the above video is excellent and does contain certain elements of truth, it is unfair to assume that it surmises all Twitter amounts to. In fact, the counter argument is quite clear. Faced with such blunt satire one can snappily retort that whilst people may be seemingly “micro-blogging” about the most mundane minutiae of their daily routines, other users (through the use of the “@” function) are replying. Moreover, one can moot that these replies are of a form and length that equals that of the original post. It can be continued, that these new comments can then also be responded to, and then those replies of replies can be met with subsequent....well you get the idea.
In short, it can offered that, far from solely enjoying e-rhetoric, Twitter participants also savour lighting the dialogical touchpaper - and then sitting back to watch as a self-perpetuating exchange crackles into life.
But does this then mean that Twitter is simply an e-message board, catering for all varieties of personal conversation; from the bogglingly complex to the arm chewingly mundane?That would be neat.
Too neat maybe. In fact, it would probably be healthy to view even this more sober conception with a spoonful of cynicism. The most obvious loose thread dangling temptingly from the weave of this neat little cardigan of an idea is the evidence that Twitter has also been used for conversations on a grander than “personal” scale. We might consider that over the past year it has adopted a “societal” function. This may seem a little involved, but bear with me, I can explain.
Remember the discoveries made by the Phoenix Mars module, in 2008. On the 31st July, the craft reported back to Houston news so huge that it threatened to redefine a scientific epoch; water had been found on the surface of the red planet. This was massive, it was fundamental that the world’s population knew as soon as physically possible. And how, you may ask, was this information disseminated? Well, firstly, by Twitter, of course.
This variety of incredible Twitter reportage littered the chronology of 2008 (for another “must Google” try the real-time coverage of the Mumbai disaster - staggering).
Its presence is not only of interest because of its novelty, but it also lends further structure to our concept of Twitter’s social significance. The fact that administrative bodies have entered into the fray definitely signals something bigger than the previously mooted “e-message board theory”.
With this mind, surely Twitter is a grand forum in the Roman tradition; where conversations held by governmental, commercial and social participants are floated on the same air?
Well, maybe, just maybe, that is it. The wool from our cardigan would have been woven into a far more complex suit, but we’re left with a fine article nonetheless.
But, as with so many internet phenomena, the key tenets are not so easily assembled and to parade this conclusion around as the absolute truth would again be demonstrating chronic simplification. Twitter just isn’t that clear-cut.
There are a whole host of other Twitter-ish concepts that, having melted into its fundaments, completely tangle the "grand forum" definition.
Firstly, we might consider that, unlike almost every social network to go before it, Twitter encourages lop-sided interaction. Tweeters can follow exactly who they like without having to be followed in return. Vice-versa, users can accumulate a whole host of followers to whom they need never pay the slightest hint of attention. This is clearly not the sort of behaviour that would go down at all well in our Roman forum.
Secondly, we should pay at least some mind to hashtagging. These little articles have caused a real stir in the blogosphere. In the tradition of all great ingenuity, hashtagging is an idea that is incredibly simple in concept but hugely impressive in practice.
To clarify, a hashtag is simply a “#” demarcated phrase placed at the end of a tweet, used to label the content of the post. For example I might tweet: “Thought Sir’alan was a bit rough last night. Probably just needs a hug. #Theapprentice”.
Now, as mentioned, this is all pretty uncomplicated, but its social effect deserves a little more attention. Using Twitter Search, surfers can enter tags to see organised lists of the global chatter surrounding their chosen topics. The forum analogy takes another blow here, as we can now see that Twitter’s conversations are even more uniquely textured than originally thought: they are selectable by subject matter alone.
Then, thirdly, there is its adaptability: its facility to be used for unpredicted ends. As a magnificent side-effect of its indistinct purpose, Twitter has become rather elastic: changing and evolving in-line with the needs of its users.
Facebook’s apps are used for specific, pre-designated purposes. The same is true for the functions of Bebo, Linked-In and Orcut. On Twitter, however, things are far less restrictive. Not all of its functionality is handed out in neat little pre-considered packages, where all conversational eventualities are provided for and guided. Supplied with a natty openly interpretable information architecture, the Tweeter is free to make of the space exactly what he/she wants. A fine example of this is made by the inveterate Tweeter, Steven Fry (or Uncle Steve, as he is known in my flat). The traditional mechanisms of the site suggest that if a user was following someone and wanted to be followed in return, he/she would send them a direct message to request this. Uncle Steve, however, has found himself in a social situation that inhibits such tactics: he has 427,242followers. If everyone that wanted to be followed by him adhered to the orthodox practice, then his account would become an unmanageable nightmare. In reaction, Stevie has taken the incentive and found a way to use Twitter’s undefined structure to his own benefit. Using his comment wall, he simply asks all of those that want to be seen by him to post an update labelled with a “followmestephen#” hashtag. In this way, all the great Frymaster need do, is use Twitter Search to see a tidily arranged list of every single one of his requesting followers: their pleas taking up space on their own walls, not his.
Beyond this example, it is clear that Twitter will continue to evolve and grow as the whims of its users fragment and multiply. What makes this especially striking is its eerie reflection of the freedoms of “real world” interaction.
At this point, insisting on the integrity of the “grand forum” concept might seem a little churlish. Perhaps we should look towards an entirely separate definition - one not yet mentioned.
Bearing all of the above observations in mind, I would argue that Twitter offers a glimpse of what a truly democratised global scale e-conversation looks like.
So that’s it; not a pretty catchphrase but as near to a discreet designation it's currently possible to get myself.
The internet is nothing new.
The proliferation of new media channels is similarly old news. There has also
been lots of time (approximately half a decade) to consider the reality of the growth
of digital content. Surely, by now, we should all be perfectly comfortable with
these developments and be merrily manipulating them to best commercial effect.
In reality, the advertising world’s understanding of how to use “projected
cities” (as Barber had it in 2002), the “glocal” (as Friedman asserted in
2005), or just the good old fashioned web is too often revealed to be
languishing behind the curve.
Each year the
digital world develops, deepens and further secures its position at the centre of
consumer culture. However, as this time passes, the marketing calendar remains
perennially replete with talks and seminars that outline the existence of
rudimentary digital phenomena. It can safely be said that there is absolutely
no shortage of talks on social networking, user generated content, or the
digital native.
In essence, there is nothing
wrong with the persistence of these introductions, but surely what we need now is
a pragmatic and employable framework to guide industry thinking towards the
effective manipulation of this new-fangled media.
There is definitely more to
be said. At this point in digital history, there is unquestionably more advice
to be given.
The 1st tenet
to erect is the understanding that digital content is well beyond being “kinda
interesting” or “something to watch out for”. Right now, it is arguably
the most important form of entertainment on earth. A bold assertion, maybe, but
if one considers that “.tv” URL addresses rose 40% in number through 2008 (www.thedomains.com,
2008), and that everyday 1.3 million new blog entries are posted (WARC, 2008) and
100million Youtube clips served (www.techcrunch.com, 2008) then it is soon easier
to agree with. Any lingering doubt, suggesting digital media to be exclusively “youth
media”, should also be swiftly quashed when one notices that 80.6% of 35-64
year-olds are internet users. It is very clear that all of us should be
nurturing an active interest and involvement in this “new” media; there really
are no excuses.
The 2nd pillar
to winch into place is the idea that the level of quality required of our digital
comms has never been so high. As suggested by the above
figures, we are presently subject to an absolute deluge of digital information.
Amongst other distractions, there are now approximately 180 million websites to
explore (Netcraft, October 2008), 13 million MP3 to purchase (Page and Bud, 2009),
and 125,000+ iTunes podcasts to download (Apple, 2007). There is an absolute
truckload of digital content to enjoy. However, the crucial truth is that it is
impossible for people to consume all of it. The public are forced to cultivate
a prioritised receptiveness – in short, they only really notice good “stuff”.
This point rings true
regardless of intelligent media choices or self-conscious attempts at
innovation. Unhelpful and unexciting content that is novel and highly targeted is
still unhelpful, unexciting, and will probably be ignored. The only way to scythe
through the extant smorgasbord of entertainment available to the public, is to
be brave enough to offer quality; i.e. something people will want and
like.
The situation puts me in
mind of a sketch Stephen Fry and Hugh Laurie wrote, about the 1990 British
Broadcasting Act. Fry, acting as a waiter in a chintzy restaurant, serves MP
Keith Bennet (a then chief advocate for de-regularising broadcasting). Noticing
that the minister only has a set of silver cutlery, Fry quickly and
apologetically clears the offending implements away, and rushes back to replace
them with an entire bag of disposable tea-stirrers. When the cover looks aghast
at the mountain of plastic on his table, Fry simply replies “Well at least
you’ve got the choice now. They may be complete crap, but at least you’ve got
choice” (www.youtube.com/watch?v=6T2zUEiVQU4). A fairly blunt piece of
satire, perhaps, but you get the idea.
This is an important lesson,
one which we all must do our best to take on. We must ingest the news that although
there are 13 million MP3 files available to buy on the net, just over 10
million of them have never been downloaded (Page & Bud, 2009). We must also
find meaning in the experience of Handbag.com’s “Are you in fashion?”
application that achieved a grand total of
68 users (WARC, 2008). And
conversely, we must learn from BBC iPlayer’s astounding viewer figures, that
trounce even those of the “great” unedited Youtube (Thinkbox, 2008). It is
clear that all digital content (and so, by extension, advertising) must now
stand on its own, based on its intrinsic utilitarian or emotional value.
The 3rd beam to
secure is the realisation that digitally involved people are just
people, and that communicating with them through digital is no harder than
through any other medium. We must trust this logic in
a way that the majority of the industry is still yet to do.
For many, this whole area is
still cloaked in mystery and is the source of much apprehension. The commonly
held perception of digital, as an infinitely complex and unconquerable network
of marketing platforms, has been left unchallenged as the industry has developed
an anxious fascination with the thoughts of an increasingly high-theory
focussed literature (Nyilary & Leonard, 2007).
Whilst there is nothing
essentially wrong with the hypothetical cerebral exercises of Gibson &
Presky etc, we need to be careful to keep our gaze where it is really needed –
the consumer. We must remember that they are absolutely “not a new kind of
species” (Yakov, 2007). The majority of the public is not over-awed by
technology, does not become conflicted in the face of channel selection and has
maintained its natural focus on the materials that bare the most interest. As
Marc Giusti (2008) puts it, they just don’t ever think “media fragmentation,
it’s upon me!”; they simply interact with the most compelling ideas, content
and brands. To summarise, we must have the intellectual confidence to stand,
aware of the existence of various hypotheses, and still perceive digital
marketing through a pragmatic and quality-focussed lens.
A
brief analysis of case-studies (1 acting as a warning, 1 as encouragement)
makes this point even clearer. Firstly, we might consider the content produced
by Inbox Digital for the sadly departed Woolworths. Most specifically, we
should pay attention to the brand’s Catapult application, used to launch their
Big Read Book in 2008 (www.catapultassault.com).
At the very least, the game was a little too hidden and esoteric in meaning. But,
its real down-fall was that it just was not that entertaining. There was no
real reason to play it; a point made all too clear by the news that, throughout
the year, the game attracted just 5 players (WARC, 2008). In this case, it
feels as though the marketing team (both agency and client) fell prey to the
impressive buzz surrounding novel media and social networking (there’s a
Facebook group). There seems to have been an acceptance that if they took the
literature’s sexiest headlines of “interactivity” and “sharing” and added them
together, huge user figures would emerge from the other side of the equation. No-one checked to think “would I actually play
this?” We absolutely must forget our anxieties about the new and
the digital, and not let them cloud our judgement, eventually forcing our nervous
hands into producing ineffective content fit for landfill.
So, secondly and positively,
we might turn our attention to Sony’s “Balls”. Now, some will gasp and exclaim
that I have mentioned a traditional ad in a missive concerning digital, but please
bear with me. Launched in 2005, Balls was a campaign that not only entertained
on “proper” screens but, because of its sheer creative worth, was also embraced
by the digital community (Sinnock, 2008). The point being that its initially
planned channels of distribution can be considered academic – people simply
gravitated towards something of outstanding quality. The consumers didn’t see
channels, channel choice, or a division between digital and real. They were
just aware of great content. In its year of launch, Balls became the most
viewed ad on YouTube and four years on it is still fertile ground for user
generated spin-offs. The result? Well, Balls (and its equally impressive
follow-up “Paint”) took Sony Bravia from also-ran to market leader in under 2
years (Campaign, 2006).
In conclusion, we must gain
some perspective. We must coolly consider industry alerts concerning the
digital revolution, avoid developing reactionary strategies out of reverent
genuflection, and instead believe again in producing the most relevant and
entertaining messaging and executions possible. Over half of the public have
admitted that they do not mind if content is commercially motivated; just as
long as it is good (Bauer, 2007). So we must go forth and have faith
that, if given the choice, people will always plump for the silver cutlery. Regardless
of any remaining industry worries about technology and the unknown, quality
will prevail.
