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8.28.03
Monastic Materialism
-- OR --
The Brand Name of the Rose
They're called creatives, but oftentimes the 40-something goateed hipsters who come up with the stuff we see in ads are less than visionary. So, they tend to fall back on over-used scenarios and imagery. Guys get laid because they order the right beer. Beautiful young women fall for undesirable, oafish men (or worse yet, non-human spokescharacters). Frazzled moms feign slaving over a hot stove while they're really savoring bonbons and romance novels. People pretend to value advice from Carrot Top. The list goes on and on.

But if there's one downright silly ad convention, it's the worldly goods sacrificing monk and his secret endorsement of some consumer product.

The 8/25 edition of The New York Times' Advertising column enlightens readers as to what's behind these Friar Tuck tactics. Apparently, we can thank the 1975 Brother Dominic campaign for the Xerox 9200 copier for starting the ad world off on its wayward path.

Since then, spots for IBM, Sony, Nintendo and more recently General Mills, PepsiCo and America Online, have featured shots of dudes in scratchy robes shuffling in unison through the doldrums of disciplined existence.

According to the story, the image of the quiet, contemplative monk automatically establishes a backdrop against which the advertised product can stand out. When Mr. and Mrs. John Q. Public are confronted with a true freak of nature such as the unsociable, God fearing monk, they immediately become intrigued by his foreign ways. Further Lowbrow Lowdown research reveals that other stock characters can elicit similar knee-jerk responses of fascination with exotic lifestyles, including cavemen, apes and John Stamos.

The reason behind the monastic motif is less than scientific for executive vice president for brand marketing at America Online, Len Short. "They're lovable," he comments in the story. "In the pantheon of widely appealing stock figures, 'you have dogs, babies and monks. Who hates monks?' " Oops! He forgot my favorite conventional commercial characters: chimpanzees, midgets and douchebag marketing execs.

Really though. Maybe I'm missing out on something here, but since when are monks especially lovable? I mean, this guy's actually equating the appeal of celibate adult males who have dedicated their lives to a reclusive existence of study and prayer (Boring!) with that of gurgly li'l wee ones and adorable puppy dogs. When's the last time you heard some cheesy talk show host complain about being upstaged by Jack Hanna and his irresistible pack of newly ordained abbots?

Sure, featuring groups of chanting men in hooded robes may be an easy, if not cliché way to express piety and serenity, but that doesn't constitute appeal. It does, however, explain why agency creatives have resorted to relying on the monk icon to enable quick juxtaposition with products, especially when the campaign goal is to promote the fun, indulgent aspects of the brands.

Besides being on the patronizing side to anyone with any respect for monastic life or even spiritualism, the monk theme can also backfire. I mean, who cares if puritanical monks who have little interaction with modern day entertainment media think instant messaging is exciting? That's what AOL insinuates in its new AOL Broadband ads. Monks probably think rearranging the lint on the back of a fellow friar's robe to spell "fart" is fun, too.

And so what if (as featured in the latest General Mills campaign for Oatmeal Crisp Fruit 'n Cereal Bars) the usual silent breakfast table monotony is disturbed by an overly amplified crunch? If, on the other hand, the exuberant chomp were distinguishable in Sister Mary Elephant's classroom, that'd be sayin' something.

Then again, like the article says, when monks use a particular product it supposedly convinces consumers that "the product is fabulous enough to entice even an ascetic." Great. The next thing you know we'll be subjected to monk makeovers on Queer Eye for the Straight Guy.



Talkin' Proud and Sayin' Nothin'
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Birmingham Flimflam
Its good name has been maligned by hapless Super Bowl flops, and become synonymous with greasy chicken wings and lake effect snowfall. It played host to the shooting death of President McKinley and the destined demise of the steel industry. But residents of my hometown of Buffalo, NY, a.k.a. The Nickel City, The City of Light and sometimes Buffahole, are still talkin' proud.

Yep. As is the case currently, the Western New York city was in a sad economic state back in the '80s. So, in addition to planning the typical revitalization projects and attempting to woo businesses and citizens away from the sprawling suburbs back to the city proper, the folks in charge unleashed a torrent of forced optimism and hometown hubris upon the masses in the form of a pro-Buffalo marketing campaign. The tagline and accompanying rallying chant became so ubiquitous throughout every facet of local media, to this day I can't dislodge it from my craw.

The jingle's chorus went like this: "Buffalo's got a spirit, talkin' proud, talkin' proud!" And the Buffalonian booboisie lapped it up. (Download and listen to this musical abomination. Note: You may need to right click and save the file before playing it.)

Whether or not the Talkin' Proud campaign made a positive impact on the city is up to debate, but if the city fathers were to develop a similar morale boosting effort today, chances are it'd be a whole lot slicker. Kinda like Birmingham's.

The UK locale has recently unveiled its new "visual identity" according to an 8/21 report in The Register. Created over a six month period in conjunction with design agency, Boxer, the logo is less than captivating.

The Register has something to say about it, too. Mainly, the publication marvels at the lack of imagination displayed in the logo design which it dryly alludes to as a "masterpiece of design simplicity." The story quotes a press release published by Marketing Birmingham which asks that city peeps "adopt the brand in a form which is relevant and applicable to them" in order to maximize its impact. "Alternatively," comments The Register, "they could just write out the name of the place where they live and stick a big circle round it."

Throughout the report, The Register takes arguably warranted potshots at Birmingham's official advert venture, and even links to a tongue-in-cheek site that "fully supports the Birmingham: It's not shit campaign."

Like Buffalo, Birmingham has fallen prey to the Western world's economic evolution away from industrial manufacturing, leaving it a mere shell of its former thriving self. According to the press release found on the city's Brand New Birmingham website, the objective of the new Birmingham campaign (tag: "Many worlds…one great city") seems to be intended to promote tourism and new business rather than simply enliven down-and-out Brummie spirits. However, efforts like it and the Buffalo campaign aren't entirely different when it comes to how they're accepted by city residents.

Whether they blindly cling to the Pollyannaish promise of the new city tagline, or scoff with fellow skeptics at its glaring disregard for reality, people who live in towns that implement these types of campaigns react to them as members of a group, as neighbors. They may not all respond to the propaganda in the same way, but however glib or contrived the messaging, these campaigns can foster camaraderie and solidify shared experiences. After all, to this day, I'd be delighted to find a Buffalo expat who'd croon along to the Talkin' Proud tune with me, if only for the sake of sarcastic sentimentality.

Of course, engineering goodwill among the citizenry should not be the burden of the taxpayers. And although a campaign to entice business and tourists to a city can be beneficial and in the best interests of the taxpayers, no sappy slogan will turn a city around if there's nothing tangible to back it up.

I guess that's why the propagandistic efforts to promote the US as a generous benefactor of goodness and peace aren't always readily accepted by their targets…uh…I mean target markets. Maybe instead of funneling so much cash into pro-USA communications, we should take a hint from Birmingham and spend the money on promoting the hometowns of the people we're trying so hard to win over.

A few campaign slogan ideas to get the creative juices flowing:
  • Basra: A Pipeline to Excitement!
  • Kandahar: Where the Warlords Come out to Play.
  • Monrovia: Free Yourself from the Rule of Law! (Free M16 for Kids Under 10.)



    Lake WalgreensBeGone
    -- OR --
    I Brand Who I Am and That's All that I Am

    "I love Starbucks. I love Starbucks so much."

    The gawky 18-year-old barked those pre-packaged words in much the same way as the marketing sausage factory had excreted his persona. On the train trip home from the Jersey Shore recently, I also overheard the unapologetic Star(bucks)-fucker froth over Giorgio Armani and The French Connection.

    When he arose to transfer trains, I was amazed not to find a wet spot on the kid's seat.

    It quickly became apparent that this young feller defines himself with brands. And before I could escape the l'il wiener's presence, he managed to seal the deal. "What's your major?" inquired his unwitting traveling companion. His response? You guessed it. "Advertising."

    It comes as no surprise that his ambition is to assist in promoting brands; he cherishes them so. I'll give him this: his identity may be assumed, but at least the kid acknowledges the significant role brands play in his life. It's more than could be said for the entire town of Excelsior, Minnesota.

    The quaint town of 3,000 is nestled along Lake Minnetonka, and despite the Lake Wobegon inspired stereotypes its name and setting may conjure, Excelsior eschews the notion of cookie cutter existence. As featured in an 8/18     AdAge.com article, the lakeside community commissioned Minneapolis-based agency, Andrews/Birt, to create newspaper ads "to draw press attention for the town, which celebrates its 150th anniversary this month."

    So, in an effort to set apart Excelsior from any ol' run of the mill hamlet riddled with chain stores and eateries, the agency came up with a controversial open-letter style ad that "declared that retailers such as Starbucks, Home Depot and The Hard Rock Cafe were not welcomed" in the bastion of antiestablishmentarianism. As it turns out, Starbucks has claimed it wasn't interested in the first place.

    In addition to prompting a visit from a Starbucks representative to Excelsior's Chamber of Commerce, the campaign has garnered ink in The Chicago Tribune and USA Today as well as coverage on National Public Radio. A cheesecake maker and bakery have also expressed interest in moving their businesses to the sassy municipality. (No word yet on the butcher and candlestick maker.)

    The Lowbrow Lowdown Lackeys were curious as to just how crazy unconventional Excelsior is. An online yellow pages search for restaurants with addresses in Excelsior revealed a few dirty little secrets in its communal closet by the names of Arby's, Mcdonald's, Subway and Wendy's.

    Excelsior's campaign reminds me of a scene in the cinematic slacker ode, Clerks, during which a slick video store cashier informs his disinterested customer, "Hey, you're not allowed to rent here anymore!" His empty threat is affirmed as his stoner buddy boorishly proclaims, "Yeah!"

    Don't get me wrong. I completely appreciate the sentiments of anyone or any group of people willing to take a stand against the humdrum repetition of mass-marketed pap. And I especially dig it when folks support small businesses over behemoth chain operations.

    However, in its arguably noble attempt to reject conformity, the Excelsior campaign has employed the very icons that represent it. In essence, while the campaign was designed to shun uniformity as symbolized by the Starbuckses of the world, it instead lends credence to these big brands by acknowledging their recognizability and dominance. Rather than defining the town according to what it is, the ads define Excelsior by what it is not.

    Excelsior may be a bit misguided in its marketing tactics, but I'll give 'em this: at least they're not in danger of attracting too many brand-embracing advertising students to town.


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