Integration: bleeding the scared cow

Hypocritical, blasting Integration on a blog? I know, I know. Rub garlic on the unspoken face of Facebook and the creature screams. Have at it, then, I deserve it. We all deserve it. As supposed brand builders, do we not recklessly put our client’s faith and dollars in viruses and phantom know-it-alls? For every success story are there not countless microsites unattended, empty churches, empty of ideas? My father merely called the Spade card black, leaving him “cold, ignorant and underwhelmed.” Show the card to the casino and the pit bosses are aroused. Who reads the tribute to my father without responding to the controversy? Less of us for sure. Integration without an idea is suicide by virus. At it’s insidious best, blogging is germ warfare. One’s aim need not be true.

Too Much Integration (Father knows best)

My father recently announced a new chain of creative command at his agency, RPA (Rubin, Postaer & Associates). Though not retiring outright, he is handing over the creative reigns to his deserving lieutenants. I’m sure there’ll be a roast and a party eventually…

My father was an excellent creative director. Best one I ever met. Certainly better than me. He didn’t chase after gold lions or new business. Rather he preferred to do great work for great clients, year after year, and did so for half a century. Every year his agency created Honda advertising every bit as good as Honda cars. The relationship with that client started before email, before Apple computers, before I began college. Hell, it helped pay for my college. RPA and Honda are still inextricable.

Dad’s innate high standards mattered more than those held by trendy awards show judges. And since he refused the atomic payday of many a holding company, he was beholden to none. Honda appreciates this loyalty and commitment. And so do I. My brothers and I fondly call him the Cal Ripken of Advertising. High praise.

He was his own man. And still is. He took his name off the door for reasons known only to him. When I asked my father why he was standing down from one of the best jobs at one of the best agencies in the world, he gave me several good reasons. But I’ll share only one. He told me, frankly, that integration left him “cold, ignorant and underwhelmed.”

Ah, that’s it then: Pops couldn’t keep up with the times. The brave new world of banners and microsites was too much for him. Time to let the Facebook generation take over. Social networks are where it’s at. Give them something viral. Integrate or die!

Or recognize, as my father did, that integration is just a word we marketers use to sound smart; that in fact, the wizard beyond the curtain of Integration is basically a dumbfuck. An avatar of a know-it-all. A Google-eyed Yahoo.

Remember folks most things viral can kill you.

Integration. Innovation. TM “I”.

For my father the only real “I” word that mattered was Idea. In the end, maybe he just got bored with other ones.

Fear and loathing in Las Vegas

In our business we play fast and loose with the Seven Deadly Sins. We call it copywriting and art directing, planning, or directing. All the skill sets used in making advertising make people want what they don’t need. We manipulate people, often on an emotional, and psychological level. Failing that, we titillate. Consider the infamous campaign for Las Vegas: What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.

Let’s look at the proposition for what it is: a siren song. Or more like sirens blaring. In one craven sentence, every aforementioned sin is being flaunted. Daring us to live a little. Convincing men to be boys. And women to let them. Being an addictive personality, I’m overwhelmed. The ‘what happens in Vegas’ message tells me, in no particular order, to unabashedly do the following:

1) Abandon my responsibilities (AKA work, family, bills, etc), and be reckless about it!
2) Leave your moral compass at home, buried under the laundry. With your wife.
3) Be a Player. Sex it up. Because in Vegas the only cheating not allowed is at the card table.
4) Lie a little. Remember: the ‘truth’ is the thing that “stays in Vegas.” You may have to lie a lot.
5) Drink, drink and drink some more. There’s always blow to keep you upright.
6) See a show. Not some half dead crooner. Go for a lap dance. Then maybe a massage. (See rules 1, 2, 3)
7) Eat like pig but pretend you’re a gourmet. Famous chefs are the new pimps of Vegas. They’ve got pieces of meat older than you are. Steak and sizzle. Wow!
Oh, yeah, and don’t forget to gamble.

Greed. Lust. Envy. What deadly sin am I missing? Although your Soul takes a pounding, perhaps Wrath is not implied in the advertising. At least not above the line.

In my novel, The Happy Soul Industry, God and the Devil engage one another in a modern fable about advertising, good and evil. (I’ve posted chapters and you can view a brief synopsis at happysoulindustry.com) Needless to say, the topic interests me deeply.

Selling cigarettes, liquor and gambling has been called “dark marketing.” Well, what if everything we sell is shaded? When we build a brand are we, in a way, creating an idol?

Look, I know Las Vegas is only a vacation spot. And I’m no Red State fanatic. I get that the advertising is just a joke. Hell, I think it’s a brilliant campaign. I’m only suggesting, as human beings, we should think about exactly what it is we’re doing as marketing professionals. And then, just maybe, pray a little.

Crispin, Porter & Schandenfreude

The last couple weeks Adweek posed the following on-line questions: Which is the most overrated agency in America? Which agency is most likely to experience significant layoffs? Amazingly, the leading vote-getter for both questions was Crispin, Porter & Bogusky.

On Adfreak, it was speculated that these votes came from “haters” and the like. Lord knows we’re all envious of CP&B’s continued success in winning new business and in setting new standards for creativity. I know I am. But calling them overrated is silly. In my opinion, CP&B is the Doyle Dane Bernbach of our time. Think about it. In the 60’s Bill Bernbach gave us the “Lemon.” Bogusky introduced the Mini. Breaking rules. Raising eyebrows. Pissing off the old guard. If there are ‘Gods of Advertising’ they fled New York for Miami some time ago.

And maybe that’s why the polls had them as overrated and likely to layoff people (a side by side that frankly makes no sense). Perhaps frustrated souls in Adland were trying to vote bad things into happening for CP&B: A kind of premeditated schadenfreude.

Sour grapes from Internet cowards, it still gives pause. How thin and red is the line between healthy competition and malignant hating? I know when I’m feeling insecure and beaten it’s often easier to look over my shoulder versus in the mirror. Insecurity is the other side of arrogance. I try, with mixed results, to avoid wallowing in either defect. But clearly both were on display during the aforementioned polls.

Necessity is the Mother of Integration.

After driving the magic Altoids bus for 10 years, I’ve come to a provocative conclusion: The campaign started out great, and stayed great, because we had so little money to begin with. It’s now a textbook case on creativity and integration. And I’m saying it’s so because of the chintzy advertising budget. If the Altoids brief had come like all the others at the time (with brand strategy and television a foregone conclusion), every aspect of creative development would have been altered, and probably not for the better. But because there were so few dollars involved, hardly any big salaries (from agency or client) made the Altoids business their business. Subsequently, our work endured far less scrutiny. More importantly, we never entertained the idea of creating national print or television. In some respects, we were forced below the line. We did wild posters, bus sides and a small space newspaper ad. It worked. And for 10 years we never changed our M.O. We never made a TV commercial. Recently, Altoids became the main prize in a 1.5 billion dollar deal.

That, my friends, is maximum impact from minimum dollars. My theory is if we’d had more dollars to spend we wouldn’t have gotten such gaudy results. Necessity was the mother of invention…and integration.The same credo applies today. Our Effen Vodka campaign uses a word game to capture the imagination of young trend setters.

The mental construct of “five-letter word” is so alluring to these people, that it’s able to trigger a response using inexpensive alternative media. This same philosophy yields fruit for our other clients as well. Potbelly Sandwich Works for example. Potbelly has a lot in common with Altoids. They both have a passionate, cult-like following. They both have an aura. And they both have (had) limited budgets. And guess what? We do some of our best work for Potbelly.

Numerous creative ‘boutiques’ make provocative films and fierce web sites. Even more ad processing plants churn out 30-second crabby patties. But these insular camps ill serve today’s clients. And it’s expensive. Cobbling together below-the-line capabilities to become more competitive is not the answer. Nor is passing off a holding company’s a-la-carte buffet as “seamless integration.” And it’s expensive. Clients want, need and deserve a more holistic approach. One where direct marketing and promotion are not the stepchildren of consumer programs. And where big ideas aren’t beholden to big prices.

My point: A frugal beginning can be the harbinger of grand tidings. As creative people, we should not bemoan budget challenged clients any more than frown upon alternative media and direct marketing. (Not that we have a choice.)

Save for a healthy DM practice, 3 years ago our Chicago office was on its deathbed. To turn the agency around, we had no other choice but to integrate. It was our only play. And it was the right play. Combining resources (as opposed to creating a caste system) has made us healthy again, inside and out. And, ironically, without making it a specific goal, we are making plenty of excellent TV commercials.

I’m not advocating making less money for our craft. Anything but. If we take what we’re given, do a good job, we are usually given a whole lot more.

Can’t read? Buy a cell phone.

Just saw a reality-based TV commercial for a wireless provider (I won’t name them) in which a woman gives heartfelt thanks to the local phone store for helping her illiterate father read his mail. Apparently the guy brought his bill in for an explanation and ended up getting so much more. To paraphrase: “Now whenever he needs help, they’re there for him.”

I’m sorry but hold the phone. Illiteracy is a real problem, I’m sure, just like tapeworms or certain benign tumors. Not life threatening but unfortunate and embarrassing. But fodder for a cell phone commercial?

Not since McDonald’s made us cry in our fries by presenting us with an autistic order-taker (circa 1980’s) have I been so awkwardly reminded of the human condition or, more to the point, the frail condition of Adland’s moral compass. I’m sure the creators of this advert had their hearts in the right place. It’s their heads I’m worried about.

We’re all aware of telco’s obsession with ‘connectivity’ as uber-strategy. We’ve all been pummeled by this ubiquitous copy platform. Yet, it’s not the wearisome strategy I take umbrage with.

What freaks me out is the exploitation of daddy’s little secret. Period. The cringe factor only goes up when you factor in the advertiser: a big, dumb phone company. And for some reason, even knowing this story is probably based on a true one, I’m still disturbed by it.

Am I being old-fashioned? In a world of reality TV and tell-all talk shows (not to mention blogs), has parlaying a human defect become par for the course?

Subversive tee-shirts, motivated troops

The way to determine the health of an agency (or any company, really) can be done without counting billings or awards, though those are often good markers. Ask yourself the following question: If the company had a tee-shirt would a majority of its employees wear it to the grocery store on Saturday? If the answer is NFW then your agency is not in a good place. As for mine, we’re getting there. Check out these mean tees one of our designers weaved up. (FYI, the EURO logo is a star)
pdfeuro_tshirts-1.pdf

Un-Effen-Believable: Sudako for the Jet Set!

fiveletter-campaign.pdf

Dark marketing at it’s finest. The Advertising Gods are pensive, as well they should be. Find out why. Open the PDF. Read the dope:

When one thinks of Effen vodka, we smile, maybe even blush, because Effen sounds so… naughty.

The “F” word is in the brands DNA.

We suggest thinking of EFFEN as a five-letter word. Like: CLEAN, SILKY, DUTCH, VODKA.

By calling it a five-letter word instead, we clean up the language without ever forgetting the fun. At every contact point, people discover a new five-letter word —some about taste, some risqué.

Major markets become the property of EFFEN. A billboard reads: MIAMI is a five-letter word. VEGAS, the STRIP…they are all five-letter words. Even the media an ad appears in is part of the message: MAXIM is a five letter word. With Five-letter word, Euro RSCG has created a mind game for 25-year olds, a Sudako for the jet set!

CW: Steffan Postaer AD: Bernardo Gomez