Cultural Leaders and Laggards, the problem with beer ads

I love this ad.  How quickly bashful behavior gives way to full-on performance.  And how this disappears (when the woman enters the store). And then reappears (when it occurs to our singer that there is a small chance the strangers might actually come listen to him.)

Funny. Human. With lots of little grace notes. The store is brilliantly cast. The singer is that perfect combo of surprisingly good and still terrible.  The way the woman rolls her eyes in “whatever” dismissal when she enters the store to find a man singing.

Beer advertising has been the bad part of town when it comes to cultural creation and creative ingenuity.  TV with the advent of really good shows and new nuance has stolen the lead. Now it can be really painful to move from good narrative to bad advertising.

Beer advertising has been especially trying on the gender theme. As Bob Garfield has pointed out, beer ads treat men in a way that’s patronizing and diminishing. In a really symmetrical universe, men would protest this treatment with outrage and boycotts.  (Or at least roll their eyes in “whatever” dismissal.)

Beer advertising has been tone deaf when it comes to culture. Yes, some guys continue to act like dolts, and all guys treasure moments of deep, unapologetic stupidity at least some of the time. But beer advertising has to wake up and come to grips with the revolutions taking place in the world of maleness.

There are all kinds of things, a new feeling for play, wit, creativity, multiplicity and, yes, performance. Which brings us back to this Miller Lite ad which acknowledges this new development with just the right combo of tender heartedness and ruthless scorn. Very male that.  (Or maybe not.)

Hat’s off to MillerCoors Chief Marketing Officer Andy England and  TBWA\Chiat\Day LA and director Matt Aselton of Arts & Sciences.

Narrative captivity: Losing Orphan Black for want of a half-fan

18706-orphan-black-s2-dvd-new_mediumI am a long standing fan of Orphan Black but this season they lost me.  I tuned in for the opening episode of the new season, and it wasn’t long before my eyes had crossed.

In the new season, it feels as if Orphan Black is being made to labor under the weight of its own complexities.  And with all the clones in motion, these complexities are formidable. And with two seasons in place, there are many additional plot points and precedents to honor.

Tedium, thy name is consistency.

Showrunners Graeme Manson, Ivan Schneeberg and David Fortier must of course honor the story.  Fans, especially, are ferocious in their defense of its integrity.  But the rest of us really are not engaged in narrative book-keeping in any kind.  We love the actress, her clones, and the broad story lines that give her an opportunity to dazzle us with her virtuosity, lend some urgency to the story at hand, identify the goodies and the baddies, and that’s enough for us.

We want some sense of narrative development.  We want our heroine to mature or at least change (or at least clone) as pluckily she survives.  But give us the big picture, not what feel like pages of gawky exposition in which good actors are brought low by the need to belabor plot points.  These moments almost feel like writers and directors clarifying story complexities for their own sake, and when this happens we know that undue complexity has hijacked the show. Narrative captivity, it’s a terrible thing.

We see why this happens.  After a couple of seasons, the people who make the show have mastered the finest plot points better than the best Yeshiva student.  And fans!  Fans live and breathe the show and they often appoint themselves the guardians of the story line.  (“You want me on the wall. You need me on that wall.”)  And in a sense this is like any corporate culture, where the incumbents fall into a gravitational field and eventually can’t believe that everyone doesn’t live there too.

There are a couple of ways of fixing this.  One is to have an ethnographic panel of half-fans.  These are people who love the show but live in distant orbit around it. They know the characters and the major plot points, but they don’t know or care about the very fine details. Writers, directors and show runners can call them up from time to time and say, “So tell me about the show” and they can use this as a chance to recalibrate. It’s a question of optics.  We can hold up the half-fan’s view of the story and change the way we see the show. Or think of it as a time machine.  We can use the half fans knowledge of the show to recover the way we understood it in the first season.

Naturally, half fans, some of them anyhow, will evolve into full fans.  And it will be up to the person running the panel to replace them with more half fans.  In fact we should think of the panel as a bend in the river, a place where half fans slow for long enough for us to quiz them…before they run downstream to full fan status.

I don’t know who want to take this on.  And it would be presumptuous to suggest a name.  So I will.  Dee Dee Gordon could do this brilliantly.  What we need, Dee Dee, is a panel of half fans. As someone starts a new show, they will ask you to empanel this panel, and from time to time they will use it to see their shows (as many, most) others do.  In effect, the half fan panel (now, HFP, because that sounds way more official) is a rope that the showrunner wears around his/her waist while descending into the narrative mine shaft.  A couple of sharp tugs and they can return to the surface.


American Music. Listening with numbers

‎ to Thomas Ball, I am looking at a wonderful article that uses big data to examine American music over 50 years.

Here are a couple of excerpts.  See the entire paper here.

Title: The Evolution of Popular Music: USA 1960-2010

Authors: Matthias MauchRobert M. MacCallumMark LevyArmand M. Leroi

[E]xamines US Billboard Hot 100 between 1960 and 2010, [u]sing Music Information Retrieval (MIR) and text-mining tools [to] analyse the musical properties of ~17,000 recordings, [aka] “the fossil record of American popular music”

[findings, proposals and, for some theorists, inconvenient truths, follow]

Some have argued that oligopoly in the media industries has caused a relentless decline in cultural diversity of new music, while others suggest that such homogenizing trends are periodically interrupted by small competitors offering novel and varied content resulting in “cycles of symbol production”. For want of data there have been few tests of either theory.

Contrary to current theories of musical evolution, then, we find no evidence for the progressive homogenisation of music in the charts and little sign of diversity cycles within the 50 year time frame of our study. Instead, the evolution of chart diversity is dominated by historically unique events: the rise and fall of particular ways of making music.

[A]lthough pop music has evolved continuously, it did so with particular rapidity during three stylistic “revolutions” around 1964, 1983 and 1991.

More thoughts on vocal fry

Thanks to Laura Fullton, I have a clearer fix on vocal fry.  Laura found the very interesting work by Ben Trawick-Smith on the topic.

Ben calls it a “creaky voice” and asks 1) whether this vocal technique might have a special connection to the Pacific Northwest, and 2) whether it passed through this connection, and the rise of alternative music there, into general usage.

In fact, this speech trait seems almost de rigeur among the alternative music set.  You could almost hypothesize it began as a regional quirk, then spread through the burgeoning indie rock movement. Evidence of its indie inter-regionalism?  Musician Justin Vernon (aka Bon Iver) has creaky voicing, even though his dialect otherwise betrays his place of upbringing (northern Wisconsin):

This pushes our time-line back and de-genders the vocal fry.  (Assuming of course that “creaky voice” and “fry” are connected…and this might be wrong.)  The data thicken!

(I am filing this post from 32,000 feet and I only bought 30 minutes of access.  So I have to post now!)

William Bunsen Professor of Anthropology at Hudson University

PSM_V72_D574_Lewis_Henry_MorganI am so sorry to be a day late making this announcement, but I want to share with you the exciting news of my new appointment as the William Bunsen Professor of Anthropology and American Culture at Hudson University.

As we know from the Law and Order chronicles, Hudson is riddled with faculty and students prone to crime and that many of them are now serving prison sentences. The up side, I’m hoping, is a reduction in teaching duties and  faculty meetings.


Capitalism and the exquisite choice: anti-economics from Alice Waters and Steve Jobs

Steve Jobs with the Apple iPad no logo - Steve Jobs - Wikimedia CommonsAlice Waters opened her restaurant Chez Panisse in 1971. Steve Jobs started selling his Apple I computer in 1976. From these beginnings, and in a relatively brief period, they transformed their respective worlds of cuisine and computers, rising steadily to greatness. Jobs was named “Entrepreneur of the decade” in 1989. Waters was named “Best chef in America” in 1992.

Alice_Waters_at_Viader_Vinyards,_NapaNeither Waters nor Jobs won instantaneous admiration of the business community. The feeling was that Jobs’ computer and Waters’ restaurant, while charming and interesting, were not ready for the real world of business. There was something too delicate or strange about these ideas. “How on earth is this going to scale?,” people asked. People worried that Waters and Jobs might be too precious for their own good.

To colonize the world, the Chez Panisse idea would have to go up against the Morton’s and Capital Grills of the world. It would have to unseat steak and potatoes. What was Waters’ business model beyond exotic recipes, eccentric ingredients and a really weird supply chain? (Chez Panisse actually sourced its goat cheese from hippies!) This restaurant in Berkeley was perhaps a little too Berkeley, a place fit for oddballs, aesthetes and gourmands of exactly the kind you would expect to find in the place that gave us the Free Speech Movement and a routinely disappointing football team.

Jobs in a sense was worse. Computers were more industrial than restaurants, but, if any thing, Steve was even less practical than Alice. He seemed more interested in creative applications than business ones. Sure, designers would like Apple computers. But if you wanted to do “real work” in the “real world,” you wanted something dead practical and this meant buying from someone like Bill Gates, who, whew, didn’t appear to have a creative bone in his body. Rumor had it that Jobs spend days agonizing over the color and shape of the case for the Apple II.[i] For Gates and his customers, any beige box would do.

The real trouble? It was all about them. Chez Panisse and Apple I were personal expressions of the creativity of Alice Waters and Steve Jobs. They did not rest until they made things just the way they liked them. Consumers, who cared about consumers? Alice and Steve were in the business of pleasing Alice and Steve.

Most business people accepted two things. 1. Close enough was good enough. The idea was not to be perfect, but to be better than the competition and to last one day longer than the warranty. 2. The only opinion that mattered was the consumer’s.

Capitalism is ruled by a fear of “surplus to requirement.” Everything that was surplus to requirement had to go (or never start) because it added time getting to market and subtracted money from the bottom line. The company that made a product better than it needed to be was bound to provoke shareholders to say, “Hey, stop giving away my earnings!” Engineering would break this rule, doubling the steel used to make a bridge, but this was a professional scruple. They wanted to err on the safe side. The rest of the world was working the art of “good enough,” “close enough,” and “that should do it.” Not because they were sloppy or lazy, but because this was pretty close to being the first rule of business.

The second rule of business is that the only person who really matters is the consumer. A business might have the best technology or the best product. It might be the best corporation. But unless the consumer bought what it was selling, too bad. In the words of Charles Coolidge Parlin in 1912, the consumer was king.[ii]

It took much of the 20th century to realize Parlin’s idea. Even late into the 20th century capitalism was still adding and refining techniques to make the consumer king. Information processing, focus groups, marketing science, psychology, anthropology, ethnography, design thinking, empathy, neuroscience, were all pressed into service. There was scarcely a theory or a method that wasn’t interrogated by marketers to find out who the consumer was and what he or she wanted.

Steve Jobs and Alice Waters broke both these rules. For them, “close enough” was an abomination. Jobs would go on tirades at Apple when his engineers delivered work that was merely good enough. He rejected the layout of the circuit board for the Apple II because the lines were not straight. This was, mark you, a part of the computer no one outside Apple would ever see.[iii]

Alice too was about the exquisite choice. In the words of Thomas McNamee, “She alone would dictate how every dish was to be prepared, down to the finest touch of technique: how brown a particular sauté should be, how many shallots to sweeten a sauce, how finely chopped. She knew exactly how she wanted everything to taste, to look, to smell, to feel.”[iv]

In a sense Jobs and Waters were at war with capitalism. They reversed the Copernican revolution. Capitalism was trying to make consumers the veritable sun (king) around whom everything else must turn. And Jobs and Waters said, “Wrong! Consumers aren’t at the center of things. We are.” And they hated the “good enough” principle, insisting on the exquisite choice.

Industrial capitalism was happiest when harnessing the productive powers of the machine, turning out enormous runs to create economies of scale, satisfying huge groups of consumers with goods good enough to please and prices both low enough to beat the competition and high enough to create value for the shareholder. All of this from an organization as faceless as a building with smoked glass.

Jobs and Waters had another idea: make very particular things, through the exercise of very particular choices, as created by highly visible individuals, driven by standards (and sometimes demons) that made the good better, vastly better, until it was in fact an exquisite choice. The consumer was now displaced as the arbiter of all things, and strangely, seemed to like this new arrangement just fine.

[i] Isaacson, Walter. 2011. Steve Jobs. New York: Simon & Schuster, p. 83.

[ii] Parlin, Charles Coolidge. 1912. Department Stores Lines. Philadelphia: Curtis. Bartels, Robert. 1976. The History of Marketing Thought. Columbus, Ohio: Grid Inc.

[iii] Isaacson, Walter. 2011. Steve Jobs. New York: Simon & Schuster, p. 74.

[iv] McNamee, Thomas. 2008. Alice Waters and Chez Panisse. Penguin, Location 827.

Image of Steve Jobs, courtesy of Matt Buchanan, with thanks to Flickr and Wikipedia

Image of Alice Waters, courtesy of David Sifrey, with thanks to Flickr and Wikipedia

Vocal fry, and what we can do about it

maxresdefaultMany people have remarked on the inclination of some young women in the US to use “up-talk” in everyday speech.

You’ve heard this, I know. It’s that rising tone at the end of a sentence that turns an assertion into a question. So “I stand by what I said” becomes “I stand by what I said?” I have written about it here.

More recently, people are talking about the “vocal fry,” so called because the last word of an utterance is made to sound like bacon frying. The Kardashian sisters use the vocal fry a lot. Indeed, they’re seen to be largely responsible for its popularity. “I stand by what I saaaaid.”  See this treatment by Faith Salie on CBS Sunday Morning.

Here’s Lake Bell (pictured) on both up-talk and the vocal fry. See the 1:34 mark of this Youtube clip. (Also, please, see Bell’s recent film In A World which is, among other things, an examination of how Americans talk. Very funny.  Highly recommended.)

I assumed that both up-talking and the vocal fry were artifacts of a sexist culture that continues to diminish women by encouraging women to diminish themselves. Up-talking is clearly an act of self diminishment.  But when I thought about the vocal fry a little more, I began to wonder whether if it  couldn’t be seen as an effort to correct up-talking.

After all, up-talking makes us sound eager for other people’s approval.  But the vocal fry makes it sound like we couldn’t care less. We believe what we’re saying.  If people agree with us, fine.  If they don’t, that’s fine too. The vocal fry could be read as an expression of self possession, a certain detachment, a confidence that banishes fear of disagreement or disapproval.

And this would make the vocal-fry an improvement on up-talking. This is not to say that the vocal fry doesn’t have problems of it’s own.  The fry might be read as evidence of confidence but it doesn’t make us sound like a rocket scientist.  It’s like we have over-corrected, going from over-eager to too blasé.

So how about this?  We need a conference, organized by and for powerful women, who gather to define the problem, discover strategies to address the problem, and muster the resources necessary to launch a solution.

I am acting here in my capacity as someone who likes to think about how anthropology can make itself useful (aka “service anthropology”).  So with this post my work is done. I’m happy to participate in the conference, but, really, organization should fall to someone else.  Forgive my presumption, but Lake Bell has taken the leadership position, so I wondered if she isn’t the natural leader.

Presuming even further, I sat down with my wife Pam and  friends Cheryl and Craig (Swanson) and we came up with this list of the kind of people who might be appointed to the organizing committee.

Joan Allen, actress
Paola Antonelli, Museum of Modern Art
Ric Beinstock, documentary filmmaker
Lake Bell, film maker
Carrie Brownstein, Sleater-Kinney, Portlandia
Wendy Clark, The Coca-Cola Company
Emma Cookson, BBH NY
Nancy F. Koehn, Harvard Business School
Leora Kornfeld, Schulich Business School
Nicole Maronian, M.D.
Indra Nooyi, The Pepsi-Cola Company
Shonda Rhimes, Scandal
Gillian Sankoff, linguist
Amy Schumer, comic
Marta Tellado, Ford Foundation

[None of these names is used by permission.  I wanted merely to suggest the kind of people who might serve on the committee.]

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