The Hindu Business Line : Not just brands

Kevin Roberts, CEO Worldwide of Saatchi & Saatchi, in Lovemarks, a book on business philosophy, describes the journey from products to trademarks and then to brands. There's more. His book, from powerHouse Books (priced Rs 1,400) also explains the need to take brands to the next step — Lovemarks. Here are excerpts from the book:

I BECAME President and CEO of Pepsi in Canada in 1987. In the Middle East, Pepsi was Number One; in Canada it was a different story. We had been sitting behind Coke for years. If you want to learn about the power of brands at street level, the Pepsi/Coke battle is as good a place as any I know. In Canada, we had the added problem of competing against some of Pepsi's own brands like Diet Pepsi and Mountain Dew. So Pepsi itself was at risk of sliding to Number Three, don't worry about Number Two.

My gut reaction has always been to zig when everyone else zags. The best way for us to avoid becoming Number Three, I figured, was to become Number One!

Lemonade was a really big category in Canada. So we bought the 7 UP brand. At the same time we drove Diet Pepsi hard against Diet Coke, the independent bottlers' network took up the challenge and street by street, city by city, province by province, just poured it on. We passed Coke. Nothing is impossible.

At that time, in the late 1980s, Canada was anxious about the implications of the Free Trade Agreement with the US and how it was going to be the end of all things Canadian. I took the completely opposite view. My feeling was that because Canada was small, fast, and flexible, we couldn't lose.

Being on the edge of the US made us more powerful, not less. Great things always come from the edge, as I've had the chance to discover personally.

To inspire our people and partners, we hired a very big and very smart hotel in Toronto. Everyone came: the trade, our own people, all our bottlers, the media. My keynote speech was all about competition. How Pepsi had just beaten Coke, and how, in the same way, Canada could be competitive with America. About halfway through my presentation, a huge red-and white Coca-Cola vending machine rolled onto the stage. I ignored it.

As I ended my speech I reached down behind the podium, picked up a machine gun and started blasting the Coke dispenser.

When you machine-gun a vending machine, it makes a serious noise.

We had people diving under tables and heading for the doors. It was incredible. For safety's sake, we had involved the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, so we weren't being completely irresponsible.

And what happened the next day? The word around the trade was unbelievable. The shoot-up was on the news, in the papers and magazines. It was the power of humour and branding at work in very different times. And it truly galvanised our sales force and our bottlers.

Great ideas, like humour, come from the corners of the mind, out on the edge. That's why humour can break up log-jams in both personal relationships and in business.

Father and son

Cat Stevens was a mega-star of the 1970s with such hits to his credit as Moonshadow, Morning Has Broken, and Peace Train. He converted to Islam in 1977, changed his name to Yusuf Islam, and pretty well left the music business. Since then, he has devoted his time to charities and education in support of his religion. He is very cautious about the use of his music. Many of his songs deal with themes from his life before conversion, and he no longer wants to be associated with them. Little surprise then that he had never allowed any of his songs to be used in TV commercials.

When creatives at Saatchi & Saatchi Wellington got it into their heads to use a Cat Stevens song for a commercial, the first reaction was "find another song." Trouble was, the song they wanted was absolutely perfect: Father and Son.

I was once like you are now,

and I know that it's not easy

to be calm when you've found something going on.

But take your time, think a lot,

why, think of everything you've got.

For you will still be here tomorrow,

but your dreams may not.

Our people didn't just want the song as the background music. The song was the story. An emotional portrait of a most special relationship — a father and son growing together from birth to death.

The client was Telecom New Zealand. Like many other telecommunications companies, they had never been big on emotion. They are under intense pressure every minute of every day. The whole industry lives in a waking nightmare of margin-shaving, competition, unexpected technology shifts, rising consumer expectations. They usually don't see people's feelings as a priority.

But Telecom New Zealand had been a monopoly and was now confronting competition with energy. They were adventurous and up for a challenge. They knew that when you act like a commodity, you get treated like one — that old vicious cycle. Forget about being loved; it's tough to get even a little respect on the street.

That might have been the end of the story in some places, but our people took it as a personal challenge. They truly believe that `Nothing is Impossible.' A passionate plea to Yusuf was drafted. Sure, permission had never been given before, but that was then. Our people pinned their hearts to their letter and waited. Weeks later as the team sat in the mixing room despairing of even getting a response, they heard the rustle of a fax. It was from Yusuf. He had responded to the visuals accompanying his words and the emotional truth of the story. He had written one word on the fax they had sent him pleading to use his song: "Yes."

Since joining Saatchi & Saatchi, I have given hundreds of presentations around the globe. Father and Son is the spot I always play at the end.

In Dubai, Denmark, Los Angeles, London, New York, Sao Paulo, Barcelona, and Sydney, the response never varies. People feel this spot is talking to them personally. Our client wanted a more connected country — Cat Stevens sang the song. His Greatest Hits album moved into the Top 10 CD sales in New Zealand a month after launch.

Powerful stories

A picture may be worth a thousand words, but terrific stories are right up there with them.

So it is no surprise that 30-second television commercials can create powerful emotional connections like nothing else. They are the most compelling selling tool ever invented.

People who say that television ads are a thing of the past just don't get it. First, they thought that 500 channels would kill off TV ads. But no, media buyers just picked the channels, people watched. Same story with TiVo and any other filtering devices anyone wants to put up.

What people hate are boring 30-second commercials. Great 30-second commercials, they love. That's why there are whole TV shows that play nothing but commercials. And why do people love them? Because they tell stories. And people love being told a story.

Advertising is part of pop culture, like music, TV, movies, celebrity gossip. The stuff of the context of our lives. We talk about great ads in bars, on buses, at work, with our families, around the watercooler. We rarely debate statistics there.

A great story can never be told too often

Just look at the ones that endure to become myths and legends. Why? Because there is always someone ready to listen for the first time.

Lexus has always valued stories. They may not use them in advertising, but they permeate the Lexus culture, and especially the dealerships. And often it is the dealers who turn out to be the heroes of great stories.

My favorite Lexus story? Imagine you're in your Lexus driving to the hospital with your pregnant wife. You know you are not going to make it and just then your local Lexus dealership comes into view. That is exactly what happened to Mark and his wife. They pulled in and with the help of the Lexus people delivered the baby. But the support didn't stop there. They loaned him another car, cleaned up his, and generally played proud relatives. What could Mark and his wife do in return? They named their daughter Isabella Alexus.

Mommy, what colour is the universe?

In 2002, a couple of astronomers from Johns Hopkins University announced a massive turnaround. The universe, they announced, was not pale turquoise, as they had previously stated. The universe was beige. Karl Glazebrook and Ivan Baldry had been tripped up by a bug in their software, and Karl confessed all. "This is embarrassing but this is science. We are not like politicians. If we make mistakes we admit them. That's how science works."

They may be scientists, but these guys know the power of a good name. They figured "beige" was not going to do it and turned to their colleagues.

The top ten suggestions from other Johns Hopkins astronomers were: Cappuccino Cosmico, Cosmic Cream, Astronomer Green, Astronomical Almond, Skyvory, Univeige, Cosmic Latte, Big-Bang Buff/Blush/Beige, Cosmic Khaki, Primordial Clam Chowder.

Intimacy

What can turn an experience that is given to thousands and thousands of people into a meaningful one for you? Intimacy.

The big question for me has always been: how do you get intimate with consumers without being invasive or insincere?

My question was answered on a Qantas flight to New Zealand. I was tired and distracted as I got on board. All I wanted was to get to my seat, put away my bag, and sit down. When a flight attendant stepped in front of me, I admit I was only halfway pleased to see him. He smiled politely, and asked, "Can I get you a Chardonnay, sir? ... Or a beer, mate?" That's how you do Intimacy.

As we developed Lovemarks at Saatchi & Saatchi, Mystery and Sensuality were our immediate focus. They showed us big, new, and exciting ways that would help people reconnect with brands in a deeper and more emotionally satisfying way.

But as we moved in deeper we began to realise that something was missing. A still, quiet voice. A voice that talked not about big effects or sensations, but about the minutiae of everyday life.

Personal. Sensitive. Continuous. What we were missing was Intimacy.

Sure we need thrills, spills, and big gestures in our relationships, but we also need closeness, trust, and (you've got it) Intimacy.

Because Intimacy touches directly on our personal aspirations and inspirations, it is much more contentious than Mystery and Sensuality. It pushes up close to what sort of relationships we want to have; the kinds of families we need, what we share, what we don't, who sets the boundaries.

Intimacy poses questions like: How close can I get to you and still feel comfortable? How much do I want you to know about me? How much do I want to know about you?

People of different cultures and at different times have treated Intimacy very differently. We know for instance that the friendly handshake that starts so many greetings had its beginnings in the wary exposure of hands without knives or other weapons - another age's version of the airport frisk!

The three-cheek kiss of the French, the hongi nose-press of New Zealand Maori, the New Age hug, the high-five of the street - they all show very different faces of Intimacy.

A moving experience

Rethink the mobile phone. Yes, I know all the stuff about interrupting concerts, distracted drivers putting lives in danger, loud talkers annoying everyone else in a restaurant, but mobile phones can teach us a very different lesson about what people value as well.

Let's go back to the beginning.

The telephone has a strange history. The initial concept was as a broadcast machine. One person could talk to many others far away via telephone lines. And perhaps play a little music. Well, that didn't work! It is in our blood to talk back.

The telephone then found its true calling as an instrument of personal communication. As someone born in England, I have always been amused by the role the class system there played in holding up the diffusion of this cool new technology.

It seems that many people point-blank refused to use the telephone because they might have to speak with someone to whom they had had no formal introduction! Can't get less intimate than that.

The telephone survived the stupidity of snobbery and opened up a whole new world of Intimacy. People could keep in touch. They could swap confidences in a way they would never think of in face-to-face encounters. They could make their lives faster and easier.

In the 1990s, the mobile phone took the transformation of everyday life to another level altogether-constant communication. As the yuppie label faded rapidly, the mobile phone became an instrument of Intimacy. The builder of relationships.

If you want to be empathetic, you would have to admit there is a hell of a lot to listen to.

In an average day an adult can use as many as 40,000 words. That's about five hours of continuous speech. If you multiply this by an average age of 75, that's over a billion words in a lifetime.

And what will all these words be about? Important issues of the day? Very, very few of them. Most of our talk could be termed trivial. It's about the process of talking rather than the content. We talk about family and friends, the weather, local news, and (especially) the day's goings-on. Gossip is the lifeblood of Intimacy.

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