Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Attitude & Aptitude, Authenticity, Brand, Comment, Confidence, Context, Craft, Creativity, Culture, Cunning, Devious Strategy, Distinction, Emotion, Empathy, Experience, Family, Love, Loyalty, Membership, Perspective, Relationships, Relevance, Resonance, Respect
Like most things in life, there tends to be 2 sorts of people.
Those who chase the cash.
Those who chase their passion.
Or said another way, the business folks and the creative folks.
But one thing I’ve learned from working with a number of highly successful bands over the last few years is this.
Those who chase cash can be hugely financially successful, but they’ll never achieve the level of creative respect those who chase their passion will receive.
Now you may go, “who cares, they’re rich”.
But here’s the thing …
People who chase their passion can end up being even more financially successful than those who simply chase the cash.
Sure, it doesn’t happen often, but it also happens more than you may imagine. And when it does, that’s when things get really interesting.
I’m working on a project for a band [not Metallica] that is – quite simply – bonkers.
Not just bonkers in terms of what they want to do, but why they want to do it.
And why do they want to do it?
Because they their die-hard fans to be properly rewarded for their die-hard loyalty.
I don’t mean that in terms of getting early access to something they have to pay for – which is the way many companies think loyalty works. I mean rewarding them with something that has real – and long term – economic and emotional value to them.
Obviously I can’t go into specifics … both for the fact I’d be murdered and there’s still a fuck-ton of hurdles to be dealt if we stand any chance of pulling this off … but what I’ve loved seeing is how artists who have built their fortune as a byproduct of their passion [rather than just a focus on the cash] seem to reach a point where they kinda turn into a musical version of Robin Hood.
I should point out this does not mean they suddenly start doing things for free.
Nor do I mean they start giving all their money away.
There may do some of that but by then, they’ve finally learnt the value of their value.
No, what I mean is they put a lot of effort into ensuring their long-term fans feel the respect the artist has for them and all they’ve done for them … and one way they are increasingly doing this is by finding ways to ‘steal’ from the rich, so they can reward the loyal.
Case in point.
Billy Joel.
In 2014 he started a residency at Madison Square Gardens and vowed to keep playing there once a month until his concerts stop selling out.
Well, he’s still playing … and given he allegedly makes US$3-4 million per show, it’s proven to be an incredible relationship.
But this is where it gets fun …
You see Billy Joel no longer allows the first row of the venue to have people sitting in it.
There are 2 main reasons for this.
1. It stops scalpers from making huge money off him.
2. He hated looking down and seeing rich people looking back at him. Not really into the evening, just there because they could afford the seats and could brag about it to their friends.
So instead, every time he plays, he gets his crew to find fans who are sitting in the worst seats in the venue and gets them to bring them down and give them the best seats in the front row. People who are really happy to be there – not for the bragging rights – but for the chance to get the best view of an artists they love, singing the songs they adore.
In essence, he uses the wealth of the uber-rich to pay for the seats for the real fans.
Giving them the night of their life and letting Billy show that money can buy lots of things, but it can’t buy the respect he has for his true fans.
Now before anyone slags this post … or Billy off.
While I appreciate what he’s doing is not perfect … it’s more considerate, respectful and loyal than 95% of companies who talk a great game in terms of their customers/employees being their greatest asset right until the point it actually might result in costing them more than they want to spend.
Which is why I’d rather be loyal to a kinda musical version of Robin Hood than a smiling snake.
And before I go, I just want to leave you with my favourite little film about Metallica.
Unlike the Billy Joel story, this is not about repaying fan loyalty – at least not in the way I’ve just described how Billy Joel has. This is more about the sentimentality the band has for people and places that they believe has had a significant impact on the life of the band.
I’ve written about this before, but whereas that was about their ongoing relationship with Cliff Burton’s father … this is about one of James’ guitars.
That might not sound enticing, but I assure you it is.
Because while this film talks about where this guitar came from … what it represents and how it was crafted to have even greater meaning and significance to James and the band … it’s really a story of loyalty, legacy and love.
Enjoy. They’ve come a loooooooong way since Some Kind Of Monster, ha.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Anniversary, Attitude & Aptitude, Childhood, Comment, Dad, Daddyhood, Death, Emotion, England, Family, Happiness, Home, Jill, Love, Loyalty, Mum, Mum & Dad, Otis, Parents, Paul, Respect, Shelly
Hello there.
I hope you all had a wonderful festive season.
I hope 2022 rewards us with all the opportunities and possibilities that the past 2 years took away.
I hope we can see our friends.
See our families.
Be healthy.
Be happy.
Live with hope and optimism.
Now I said this blog wasn’t going to be back until Jan 31st … and it isn’t.
And frankly, after the December I had – which included the death of a dear friend, an unexpected hospital visit for me and an emergency operation for Otis [who is fully recovered, thank god] – I need all the time I can get to recuperate.
However on Sunday, it is 23 years since my Dad died.
In just 6 years time, he will be gone as long as he was in my life.
And in 9 years time, I will be the age he was when he died.
They will be two very significant moments in my life and – if I’m being honest – I’m nervous of one and scared of the other.
Nervous because it just seems impossible he will have been out of my life more than he was in it.
Of course he is still in my life, but you know what I mean.
Scared because the reality of death comes ever nearer.
Now I know no one knows when someone is going to die – but the idea that it could be when I’m 60 – like he was – is an irrational thought that just sits there. Coming out when I least expect it.
And when it’s quiet, another ridiculous idea enters my mind.
Because Mum died at 83 and Dad died at 60 … I can also convince myself I’ll die between those 2 ages.
So 72.
Now I get 72 is quite a way a way, but it feels a fuckload closer when you’re 51 and your son is only 7.
But all this could be the melancholy of this being Dad’s anniversary, because the reality is I’m happier in my life than I’ve been for a long time.
Not that I was unhappy, but there were moments … but right now, I am in a truly good place and my parents would be so happy to know that.
Which is why I want this post to be about something that would make Dad smile.
A few weeks ago, Jill and I were talking about books that made us laugh to the point of pain.
While we both had a few, her major one was Catch 22 and mine was the first Adrian Mole book – The Secret Diary of Adrian Mole aged 13 ¾.
Adrian Mole’s ‘diary’ came out in 1982 but I got it in the summer of 1983 … which means I read it at the same age as Adrian was.
I loved it. It was hilarious, poignant, tragic and uplifting.
It covered so many issues so many kids were going through.
Family. Friendship, Girls. Sex. Arguments. Parent and Grandparent arguments.
It was, in some ways, the diary of every kids aged 13.
I loved it and still love it when I revisit it every 5 years or so.
But the reason I’m telling you this is because of when my Dad read it.
I think Mum had told him how much I enjoyed it so he decided to check it out.
Anyway, one morning I came downstairs and Mum asked me to ask Dad about what happened in the night.
She said it with a smile, so I knew it wasn’t bad.
I went in the lounge and he was there in his favourite rocking chair.
“Mum told me to ask you what happened last night”
As soon as I said it, he looked at me. His face lit up, a big smile came on his face that allowed his gorgeous dimples to come into the spotlight.
“Oh Robert …” he said, “I was reading your book last night and the bit about the Christmas turkey not being defrosted made me howl with laughter.”
“It was 2am and I had to come downstairs to try and calm down”.
“The bit where they’re trying to thaw the turkey under the hot tap in the bath …” to which he he burst out laughing again with tears in his eyes.
Of course, seeing my Dad like this made me laugh too and then I heard Mum laughing from the kitchen at the state of both of us.
While I never really understood why that bit tickled him so much, I have an idea.
Whether it was the time Mum invited a really miserable elderly couple to our Christmas dinner but only announced it a few days before Christmas and we already had a house full booked … to Dad’s terrible first ever experience with a microwave that literally carbonised sausages … to drunk family members causing scenes … to buying a turkey so big it didn’t even fit in our over … to a not-very-funny-but-very-funny episode with a glass of water when his Mum came to visit.
Who knows. Maybe it was some of that, maybe it was none of it.
But regardless of the reason, I will always remember how that paragraph revealed the child in my Dad and that is why I will always love that book.
It might also explain why I love the Plenty Christmas ad from a couple of years ago. Because watching it again, it’s basically that scene made as a commercial.
I miss my Dad.
I miss him so much.
I would give anything to be able to talk to him and discuss what I’ve done in the last 23 years.
Introduce him to his daughter in law and grandson.
Tell him that Paul and I are still inseparable and mischievous.
Show him all the places I’ve visited and lived and then tell him about all the things I’ve done and still want to do and try.
Watch him try to take it all in and then hear all his questions.
But as I can’t, I’ll honour him by sharing the paragraph that made him roar [which is at the very bottom of this post] and say this:
Dad. I love you.
I think about you all the time.
I am almost overwhelmed with the things I want to say and share.
I hope you’d like [most] of the decisions I’ve made. I know a few would raise eyebrows, but hopefully not too many.
All I’ve ever wanted to do is make you and Mum proud.
I hope I’m doing that overall.
A kiss to you and Mum.
And a lifetime of my love.
To the rest of you, give your loved ones a hug and see you on the 31st.
_________________________________________________________________
The Secret Life Of Adrian Mole Aged 13 ¾ by Sue Townsend
Friday December 25th (1981)
I went up to the bathroom and found my mother crying and running the turkey under the hot tap.
She said, “The bloody thing won’t thaw out, Adrian. What am I going to do?”
I said, “Just bung it in the oven.” So she did.
‘We went down to eat Christmas dinner four hours late. By then my father was too drunk to eat anything.’
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Agency Culture, America, Attitude & Aptitude, China, Colenso, Comment, Communication Strategy, Crap Products In History, Creativity, Culture, Deutsch, LaLaLand, London, Love, Loyalty, Management, New Zealand, Planners, Planners Making A Complete Tit Of Themselves And Bless, R/GA, Shanghai, Teamwork, Wieden+Kennedy
For some reason, I like having badges made for my colleagues.
Or anything a bit daft.
Of course, it started with the stickers I had made when I left Wieden.
600 of the buggers, hidden throughout the office – and buildings of interest – which they’re still finding to this day.
Then there was the packing tape of Jorge and the guy who is in Love Actually – which is a massive compliment even though he thought it was a huge pisstake.
Then there were the Zaid badges, made and bought on a snowy night in Boston.
Then my leaving Deutsch badges.
Followed by the pencils for Mike and Sam.
And the ‘don’t mess with me’ badge for Meg … after watching how disgusted she was at a presentation she had to attend.
Thanks to COVID, apart from the ‘you’re a twat’ sexual harassment badges we had made and sent to men who had made inappropriate comments to women in the workplace, I’ve been nothing but mature.
Until now.
Lizzie is in my team.
She has many qualities.
She’s fiercely smart. An incredibly talented, multi-instrument playing, musician. Community soup maker.
Basically, she is everything I’m not … but there’s one quality that she has that shines above even those bright lights.
She can see a dark side in everything.
I don’t mean in a depressing, mean, nasty way …
Nor do I mean in a hurtful, inconsiderate, selfish way …
I mean that in certain circumstances, she sees the worst case scenario in things.
Of course, she will claim she is simply being a realist – and there is a lot of evidence to suggest she’s right.
For example, when lockdown happened, we were having a bet on when we’d go back to work.
Most said early October, a few early November … but Lizzie swooped in and said,
“We won’t be going back till the new year”.
We laughed at her, until we didn’t and realized she was right.
Again.
Damnit.
Which is why I decided to commemorate her insightfulness with this ….
And while some may say this is not the nicest thing a boss could do for a colleague, I see it a bit differently. To me, I see it as an investment in my team – an investment at the price of my sons inheritance – which means I’m basically boss of the year.
Sadly, that year in 1953.
Happy weekend.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Attitude & Aptitude, Comment, Creativity, Culture, Emotion, Empathy, Love, Resonance
For years people have tried to express what love is.
They’ve used song.
They’ve made films.
They’ve written books.
They’ve made art.
They’ve penned poems.
They’ve even created a day for it to be celebrated.
But none of them have captured it so beautifully and succinctly as a photograph I recently saw.
Love this.
Love it so much.
A moment alone, when you’re surrounded by hundreds.
At a time where creativity is being challenged and questioned by more and more companies, consultancies and corporations, this photo is a great reminder how creativity can solve the problems systems, structures and order can never reach.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Agency Culture, Anniversary, Attitude & Aptitude, China, Colenso, Comment, Creativity, Culture, Effectiveness, Environment, Family, Jill, Love, New Zealand, Otis, Rosie
A year ago today, Jill, Otis, Rosie and I left our beautiful family home – that we only had bought and moved into 6 months earlier – to get on a plane for the first time in over a year and fly to the other side of the planet to start a new life in New Zealand.
Now of course, because Kiwiland is so fucking far away from everywhere, it took us 2 days to get here which means we’ve not officially been here a year … but if you will excuse the early anniversary, it still something I wish to celebrate.
Despite having moved countries more times than anyone should be allowed to … the build up to this move was the most stressful we’d ever had.
Of course, the reason for that was bloody COVID … but with changing rules, changing flights and changing timelines, it felt like an impossible dream when we boarded the plane 12 months ago today.
Then there was the 2 weeks of quarantine we had in Hamilton.
While it was restrictive, it was actually an amazing way to settle in a country because whether we liked it or not, we were not allowed to do anything.
Normally when we land in a country, it’s mayhem trying to learn the areas, find a house, buy a car. But this time it was easy, mainly because – in a moment of madness – we had bought a house and a car when we were in England.
While that might sound mad, the car was easy because it was simply the latest version of the car I bought in the UK. Which was the same as I bought in the US. Even down to the colour.
As for the house … OK, that was bonkers, but sadly for our bank manager, that wasn’t the first time we’d done it.
But it all worked out.
Not just in terms of house and car, but life.
We’re settled.
Otis loves his school.
Jill loves we live in the trees.
Rosie loves she can watch birds all day.
I love the talented mob I get to work with each day.
Colenso has done some lovely stuff – but it’s only the start – but we’ve won some global business, awards and a bunch of friends [not to mention the odd bitter enemy] but even more importantly, is that I’ve lucked in with the people I get to work with each day.
What a top bunch they are … with a special mention for my wonderful team who are a bunch of beautifully opinionated, creative and interesting assholes.
Just as I like them. [Most of the time, hahaha]
In fact the only thing that has been horrible has been the timezone … which means when I’m doing my Metallica duty or Gentle Monster duty, it ends up being so early or late I could cry.
Actually, for the first few weeks I probably did in shock … but now it’s second nature and they’ve all been ace. Hell, even the 4+ months of lockdown didn’t dampen our spirit.
Sure, we had travelled half way around the World to end up back where we started … but COVID here was very different to COVID in the UK.
Here there was a plan with clarity and communication.
And while people here say there’s a bunch of stuff the government could have done better – which, in some cases, is fair – compared to what we experienced in the UK, it’s all A+.
While we know we won’t be in NZ forever, we do love it here.
We are so appreciative of the chance we have been given … even more so when so many Kiwi’s have found it so hard to come back. NZ has been generous, supportive, open and encouraging. Hell, not only did they let me meet Noel Edmonds, James Cameron and brilliant Jacinda, they even looked after us when we all individually found ourselves having to go into hospital. In terms of ensuring you can deal with the sadness of not seeing friends and loved ones, NZ did it with absolute bloody panache.
I hope in our time here, we are seen as contributing to the nation. We want to do that so much. Celebrate it. Honour it. And – where possible – help it. Not just so we can learn and know more about this special place, but so we can say thank you for letting us be here.
Happy [almost] anniversary NZ.
You might wish it hadn’t happened, but we’re glad it did.