Whiz Kid & the Critic: How one bad review changed my life.

Even though this blog is ostensibly about advertising, I am ambivalent about critiquing ad campaigns. Especially in a negative manner. It’s easy to find bad work. And smashing low hanging fruit is a sure fire way to get readers and comments. Yet, I am always leery of doing so.

Truth be told I think most criticism is folly. Let me tell you a story. In college, I aspired to be a music journalist for Rolling Stone magazine. (Back then it was still a relevant publication.) In pursuit of this goal, I reviewed albums and concerts for both school newspapers at the University of Wisconsin, Madison. Highlights from this period include the resounding thumbs up I gave to the Replacements and Violent Femmes. (If not for me who knows where these two bands would have wound up?) Anyway, I also reviewed plenty of local talent, including a hair band called Whiz Kid. Whiz Kid played Lover Boy and Head East covers for drunken sorority girls (and the men who loved them) at various venues around town. For 2 bucks a head one got 3 sets of music.

Like almost every novice critic I rejoiced in ripping no-talent outfits to shreds. Whiz Kid was no exception. I might not be up on that stage but I had my pen, which was mightier than any guitar. So, I wrote a story, making fun of their lame music, silly matching outfits and ridiculous big hair. I used every bit of my marginal writing skills to tear them a new one. And then I promptly forgot about it.

Not Whiz Kid. A couple weeks later I ran into the lead singer at an after-bar party. He asked me why I’d so cruelly laid into his band. I said, no disrespect, brother but you sucked. I mean Lover Boy… Give me a break!

The vocalist did not punch me. Instead he hit me with something far more lasting. He told me the reason Whiz Kid played shit music was to get gigs, which he needed in order to pay rent and put food on the table for his wife and new baby. He told me none of the bars in town hired original talent unless they were famous. Whiz kid was not. He had to sing Working for the Weekend because that’s what 19-year-old girls (and the men who loved them) paid money to see.

They actually did an original tune…

From that night on, I abandoned my ambition to write criticism. I had been stifled by the truth. Whiz Kid was literally working for the weekend, every weekend, in order to survive. I had no right to criticize them for doing so. I wasn’t aiding culture. I was merely hurting this band.

To this day it takes an especially notable campaign for me to write about it, in particular if I’m considering a negative opinion. Obviously, I still do it but I try to use an even hand, look for silver linings, give praise. I always remember Whiz Kid.

Author’s note: Previously, I shared a version of this story. I decided to reprint it, in lieu of critiquing anything.

A lifelong conundrum with criticism: I owe it all to Whiz Kid.

The face of criticism. it ain’t always pretty.

It dawns on me I haven’t critiqued an ad campaign in quite a while. I could tell you that’s because nothing out there strikes my fancy. And there are periods of time when it does feel that way. Yet, I write about countless subjects that do not require a witness. You’d think if I’m going to host a blog about advertising that I’d write about it. Often.

So, why my ambivalence?

Truth be told I think most criticism is folly. Let me tell you a story. In college, I aspired to be a music journalist for Rolling Stone magazine. (Back then it was still a relevant publication.) In pursuit of this goal, I reviewed albums and concerts for both school newspapers at the University of Wisconsin, Madison. Highlights from this period include the resounding thumbs up I gave to the Replacements and Violent Femmes. (If not for me who knows where these two bands would have wound up?) Anyway, I also reviewed plenty of local talent, including a hair band called Whiz Kid. Whiz Kid played Lover Boy and Head East covers for drunken sorority girls (and the men who loved them) at various venues around town. For 2 bucks a head one got 3 sets of music.

Like almost every novice critic I rejoiced in ripping no-talent outfits to shreds. Whiz Kid was no exception. I might not be up on that stage but I had my pen, which was mightier than any guitar. So, I wrote a story, making fun of their lame music, silly matching outfits and ridiculous big hair. I used every bit of my marginal writing skills to tear them a new one. And then I promptly forgot about it.

Not Whiz Kid. A couple weeks later I ran into the lead singer at an after-bar party. He asked me why I’d so cruelly laid into his band. I said, no disrespect, brother but you sucked. I mean Lover Boy… Give me a break!

The vocalist did not punch me. Instead he hit me with something far more lasting. He told me the reason Whiz Kid played shit music was to get gigs, which he needed in order to pay rent and put food on the table for his wife and new baby. He told me none of the bars in town hired original talent unless they were famous. Whiz kid was not. He had to sing Working for the Weekend because that’s what 19-year-old girls (and the men who loved them) paid money to see.

They actually did an original tune… sort of.

From that night on, I abandoned my ambition to write criticism. I had been stifled by the truth. Whiz Kid was literally working for the weekend, every weekend, in order to survive. I felt I had no right to criticize them for doing so. I was not aiding culture in any way. I was merely hurting this band.

And so to this day it takes an especially notable campaign for me to write about it, in particular if I’m considering a negative opinion. Obviously, I still do criticism. But only after giving the matter serious consideration. And I always remember Whiz Kid.

Criticism of JWT’s lush commercial for America is as expected as it is wrong.

“Land of Dreams” from JWT

Besides the Statue of Liberty, I didn’t realize the United States of America made tourism advertising. Cities and states run ads. But the entire country? Seems an unwieldy proposition, given our nation’s vast size and wildly disparate peoples. But they do. Above is a TV commercial called Land of Dreams produced by JWT, New York. The client is, in fact, the United States Government. I wonder (jokingly of course) if the President approved the concept.

Comprising lush vignettes of different parts of the country, cut to a song by Roseanne Cash, Land of Dreams is a textbook definition of anthem commercial. Most definitely American, it’s a fastball down the middle, with a good song and gorgeous images. I wonder about one scene or another but basically I’m impressed.

Many of you aren’t.

I discovered the commercial while trolling Agency Spy. Granted, that isn’t the place for thoughtful film criticism, let alone compliments of any kind, even so, the tone and level of hatred toward Land of Dreams was downright nasty.

Hating on America is vogue with young people. Hating advertising is vogue for everyone. Therefore hating on an ad for America is decidedly low hanging fruit. Vitriol was aimed at everything from too many scenes of California and New Orleans to the broad strokes of Ms. Cash’s anthem.

Misguided dumb-asses. Do you honestly think shots of tattoo parlors and dank bars would have sold America better? Hip or not, this is the USA Sven and his brood wants to visit. Nothing wrong with Brooklyn, Wicker Park or the Mission but these aren’t tourist attractions. (And by the way, you should be grateful!) Foreigners come to America because of the clichés. Not in spite of them. It would be foolish to advertise our country any other way.

As for dissing Roseanne Cash, you’ve got to be kidding. She makes the fricking commercial. Cash not only has a great voice but, unlike any number of pop stars, she’s credible.

I’m not saying this spot is awesome. It ain’t. But it ain’t bad either. The hate spewing critics need to realize our country is not best sold through the eyes of a 29 year-old, zombie nuking, pierced hipster from Hoboken, let alone an unemployed Internet troll.

Oh, and this: You try selling something better to the United States Government.