This ad for Harley Davidson popped up on my social media feed last week.
With it came the aroma of a freshly opened One Show book or the distinctive smell of a dog-earred CA Annual that had been passed around the creative department and pilfered relentlessly by ambitious young art directors and copywriters who thought, "some day I'm going to do work of this caliber and become a CD and make 1/2 million dollars and have a personal assistant who'll get my dry cleaning."
I seem to have gone off track.
The point is, and was on the social media feed, that this is the kind of work that is simply not done anymore.
For a myriad of reasons, alluded to by those same formerly young art directors and copywriters who now find themselves pimping prescription pimple cream or resizing banner ads for Instagram or heaven forbid, Truth Social.
1. Why is the motorcycle so small? I'm no mathematician, but I play one on these pages, and I suspect the photo of the bike covers less than 4.7% (specificity = humor) of the double page spread. And the astute naysaying client would be correct. On the other hand, my intuition tells me that would-be purchasers of a Harley Davidson already know what a motorcycle looks like. They're more inspired by the boundless panaorama and the thrill of commanding the open road. Mind you, I have no data to that effect, but back in my motorcycling days I had seen hundreds of ads, few as evocative as this.
2. This could be for any motorcycle. And again, the hesitant ad manager would be correct. You could swap out the Harley for a Honda or a Kawasaki or a Triumph. You could, but you'd be tossing out the rewards of category leadership and the singular privileges earned by the brand and the loyalty of its followers. I have heard this argument countless times in my career and every time I am shocked by the lack of foresight and confidence by people who should know the brand better and leverage it when possible.
3. Print is dead. Can't argue with that. Just a few weeks ago, I canceled my expensive subscription to the NY Times, which had been stacking up on my already cluttered dining room table, and decided I would follow their journalistic activities online where it's been pointed out, I spend too much time.
What? And miss stuff like this: https://www.facebook.com/xxistence/videos/1959822774202272/?fs=e&s=m
The point is...wait what was the point?...this type of work is no longer being done. Nor is it being asked for. Or created. Or even considered. The industry lives where clients live -- at the bottom of the funnel. 20% off this. This offer will end soon. Click NOW!
Sadly, there is no attempt to return to doing work like the ad pictured above.
Instead, we're on a slippery slide, coated with peanut oil, on an A/B tested, data driven, death spiral to the bottom.
Thank god I'm 64.
8 comments:
Totally agree
I hear you Rich but I think it’s a lot more serious than that. The fact that there’s no return to doing work like that is A MASSIVE possibly THE MOST MASSIVE issue in the adbiz today. That cheeky gnome Bob Hoffman summed up the coming of the digital age to advertising as a renewed battle between direct advertising - the crappy kind as he calls it - and brand advertising - the good kind. As countless genii on here are constantly reminding us with data to match, the digital crappy kind of advertising is probably even more ignored than the physical crap that they used to stuff in your physical mailbox.
Meanwhile all those brilliant ad makers are gone and, equally importantly, are no longer there to pass on their skills. It’s an unprecedented gutting of an entire creative industry worthy of an episode of 60 Minutes. RIP.
You’ll have to check out my new magazine. We decided print is NOT dead. More like a coffee table book than a quickly dated periodical. And we designed the beautiful ads, too! Only full page or spreads. My partner is one of the best photographers in the South. Did Chris Vera for Garden & Gun since it’s inception. Now routinely works for the New York Times (gorgeous travel, etc) all over the globe. And WSJ. Single topic for each issue in this brand new creative biannual. Born here in The Shoals, Alabama, but with writers and other photographers all over the country. Expect it from the printer this week!
www.theStudioJournal.net
Sadly, that work requires clients with vision and imagination. The digital age has defined the new client. This new client doesn't have vision or imagination. This new client lives purely in a world of numbers (number of impressions, conversion vs. attrition, cost of acquisition and other ROI values). They want their message to be a plainly stated, direct and objective expression of brand value or utility. Emotion is a nice-to-have and, because that's subjective, impossible to measure and, in their mind, a bit messy, best left until the brand is in "...a better position" (although, the brand will never be in a better position). Before you vilify your local brand manager or marketing vp, remember, it's not their fault. Their media spend has been inextricably linked to performance. They not only have to accurately forecast performance, they also have to show performance after the fact to justify every media dollar. If they miss projections, they don't get more, they get less ... or, worse, they get sacked. They're also under pressure to be on every channel, platform and device-- further fragmenting their media spend, putting them in a constant state of full-on, ulcer-inducing panic. Should I have shifted more money to Tik-Tok instead of Hulu? It's a vicious cycle which makes them cling even harder to the perceived safety of numbers, numbers, numbers. Brand perception, brand feeling, brand consideration -- those soft and squishy things are for another day (nope, still no date on that). That doesn't mean that there aren't dynamic marketing execs with the imagination and steely wills of their predecessors. There are. You can see them as you scroll through annuals (I almost said, 'thumb through annuals') and awards shows (just the real ones, though.) As with every age, those marketers with the imagination/vision/cojones to bless brilliant work will always be the smallest fraction of clients. Like everything else, there's just more of it now.
When I was trying to get back into advertising (ho ha ha, what a waste of time that was) I submitted a book with many ads of this type. The universal response I got from CDs (most of whom were younger than I) was "I don't get it." "What are you trying to say here?" "Why not talk about the *product*?" It's clear you don't know the first thing about advertising." My fave, though, were when I submitted spec ads for the ACLU. "What's the ACLU?" the hipster CD with a skateboard propped against the side of her desk and her dog at work, who kept sniffing my crotch during the interview, asked me.
The ironic truth is that this work is even more effective and appreciated because it has become so rare. The fight is harder, no doubt, but still worth it. Good is good no matter what. And people will always read what interests them. Even if it’s an ad. (A nod to the man.)
There are still brands that value their true id, who know their voice, who can project it clearly. And customers still respond.
Nike & Apple come to mind.
The real issue is in the world of hypertargeted media- us in the business- may never see a really great ad- or even understand it because we're not the target market.
And, while this ad was aspirational for so many of us-
it worked because the Harley brand stood for being a renegade - and while a lot of people in advertising will never ride a motorcycle, all of them think their call sign would be "Maverick" (which by the way is the name of a new hybrid truck from some car company).
You may be 64, and sour on the biz, but I turned 60 today- and I feel there is still room for great campaigns to turn the world upside down.
And- get the NYTimes app subscription- it works really well.
It’s been stated above well. As I teach I try to impart the essence many missed in that ad. The creative team found the nerve, touched that nerve….cyclist want to feel the road not observe it.
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