Michael Jackson, and lessons for brand building

If the Michael Jackson brand were a stock traded on an exchange, can you imagine the volume of buy orders on the night of June 25th? Here was a guy that had long since moved past train wreck status-- past radioactive ... he literally couldn't purchase relevance unless it came in the form of an open window into his bizzare existence. So deep was the chasm between Michael Jackson, the entertainer who once left us spellbound, and Michael Jackson, the creepy pauper, that only his actual death could bridge the gap. If this past weekend's box office was any indication, consider the chasm officially bridged. In fact the New York Times reported last August that his estate had already earned $100 million from the film deal and other merchandising contracts, with another $100 million anticipated by year end.

Of course this isn't all that unusual in the world of arts and entertainment-- an artist's death, particularly one of unnatural causes, can often drive his or her popularity to unprecedented heights. After all, the original king, Elvis Presley, is still alive and well as a cash machine over 30 years after his death. He and John Lennon both sold more songs after their deaths than they ever did alive. Artists like Van Gogh, Basquiat and Gauguin all saw the value of their works soar posthumously. Author and naturalist Henry David Thoreau and poet Emily Dickinson, both obscure and reclusive in their day, achieved critical and popular acclaim in the years proceeding their deaths. This is well worn pattern spanning generations of Western civilization.

So I guess we know the "what," but the "why" is more interesting to ponder-- as in, why is something worth more dead than alive? Certainly, basic supply and demand is a factor here, namely, death = scarcity. A finite supply of an artist's work should trigger a jump in price, all things being equal. And then there's the matter of simple differentiation-- a death obviously creates separation and uniqueness for an artist in the public's consciousness, allowing them to catapolt above the pack of the living. Maybe nostalgia for a bygone era? That could be part of it too.

But scarcity, differentiation and nostalgia still don't explain it all away for me. I mean in the case of Elvis we're not just talking records, it's Graceland, t-shirts, key chains, impersonators in Vegas, the whole 9 yards. Elvis was lampooned in his final years, now he's revered as an American icon. Before I get too morbid here, I guess the question I'm getting at is what exactly causes this change--besides the obvious-- and what does it tell us about brands?

I think the key is need. When an artist is dead, they don't need us anymore. When we perceive something as needy, we want to know why-- and in our cranial shorthand we infer that they must not be in demand. This applies to anything -- including friends and colleagues. That guy always hanging out in your office, doesn't he have anything to do? Doesn't anyone need him? He must not be very good. Or that girl with the crush on you for a million years, why hasn't she found anybody yet? What's wrong with her? Dead artists and entertainers don't need us anymore, and that suddenly makes them irresistible.

Comparing brands to people is very instructive to me because, well, that's what we try to do in marketing-- create desirable brand personalities, which is equity on your balance sheet-- it's what allows us to charge more than the sum of raw materials for a product or service. Great brands have a soul, a lifeforce. And we relate to them much like we relate to people, which is, of course, why we all work so hard on branding ourselves professionally.

Take President Clinton for example. His first 2 years in office were, by all accounts, a political failure. He suffered from the sharpest plunge in popularity among elected presidents-- down 11 points between the 1st and 2nd quarters of 1993. From the teasing he endured for the McDonald's runs and the $200 hair cut, to the more serious policy stumbles, he made plenty of beginner's mistakes. But more than anything, the guy was simply in our face too much. He was too damned needy. After seeing his party suffer a humiliating defeat in the 1994 midterm elections, one of the keenest bits of advice he received by advisers was to simply go away more often, be seen less, get off peoples' TV sets and leave them wanting more. I believe this went a long way toward restoring his brand esteem in the eyes of public as he easily won re-election 2 years later. Sure it was about being more Presidential and the whole "triangulation" thing, but it was also simple branding fundamentals-- sometimes less is more.

Time to bring this baby home... My point is, the Michael Jackson phenomenon underscores some important lessons for brand builders, namely, that it's important for a brand to avoid coming off as overly needy to consumers. Neediness makes people question a brand's worth. To put it another way, a great brand projects confidence and success. A great brand is comfortable with who they are, where they came from, and what they value.

Let's try to be more specific... how might this manifest itself in real-world marketing behavior? A few of my examples (among dozens, no doubt):

-- A confident brand doesn't cram 17 selling points on an advertisement, particularly on a B to C communication. Look, nobody's going to read all of that crap anyway, and it comes off as a prosecutor's brief rather than overture to consumers. Just pick a central narrative, perhaps a few key supporting statements, and let the copywriter go home for crying out loud. Like this ad for instance-- it's not about vanity, it's about freedom of expression. Well done, BOTOX geniuses.

-- A confident brand doesn't seek every and any opportunity to discount itself. Yes, I know the economy blows and you need the traffic, but you give away a little piece of your equity every time you sell yourself short. If you must discount, try to disguise them-- bundle several items together, add a bonus service or upgrade or a free gift, offer a reward for loyalty-- whatever, but confident brands don't repeatedly undercut their value perception by slashing prices.

-- A confident brand does spend the majority of its marketing resources on its core users, and has faith that they will, in turn, spread the gospel to secondary and tertiary targets, which we all know is the best advertising money can buy anyway. In the case of Trader Joes, those resources are directed right into their own stores, where easy-going, Hawaiian shirt-wearing staff troll the aisles, engaging customers in all manner of conversation about their private label offerings... want to know what something tastes like? No problem dude, let's crack open the product and try it! And another thing, I've always maintained that people look to advertising even after a purchase for affirmation, which, of course, also fuels word of mouth and repeat purchase-- if they see a disconnect with your placement or presentation, it runs the risk of confusing and alienating them, which makes you just another sellout.

-- A confident brand does seek opportunities to connect with its core consumers in ways that don't necessarily involve a direct sales pitch. Embrace their lifestyle. Be with them, enjoy what they enjoy, and demonstrate how your brand strengths connect with their values and interests. One of my favorite examples of this is the famous Red Bull Flugtag, a traveling event where people compete for distance as they launch themselves off a pier on their own self-powered flying machines. Talk about an event that projects the spirit of the brand "that gives you wings."

-- A confident brand does avoid copying its competitors. While there are certain benchmark criteria in any category-- basic product and service offerings or procedures that are essential for credibility as a player-- a confident brand also recognizes a pack of sheep moving in one direction and smells an opportunity to make a provocative statement. Just look at the fun Southwest Airlines is having at the expense of its competitors and their gotcha bag fees. Is there any wonder why Southwest has been one of the gold standards in the airline business for at least 15 years?

Now don't misunderstand me here, we're not talking about snobbery-- unless that's an intentional element of your brand's DNA. You don't want to go so far as to present your brand as aloof, as if your customers are practically unworthy of your products and services, and your obligation to them almost beside the point. That's obviously the wrong lesson. But you do want to project confidence and success, and you do want to try and leave them wanting more-- a feat that doesn't always require a near-death experience to pull off.