UNCLTRD Vol. 12 / Nov 2023

This month we're exploring what makes an authentic collaboration in the world of Hip-Hop,?a round up about what people really want from Christmas ad campaigns, and the intersections of virality and culture.?This month we're also ecstatic to share some other things we've been working on in the background.

Make sure to check out our recent soundbite in Creativebrief ?on brand and culture, and check out our 50 Years of Hip-Hop panel and live music event , where we're celebrating it's journey from the underground to the mainstream across its 50 years of existence.?

Hip-Hop and Authenticity: what makes a meaningful partnership? ?

2023 marks 50 years since the birth of Hip-Hop, and the genre’s influence is evident everywhere. From Pharrell Williams assuming the role of Louis Vuitton's men's creative director to the staggering success of billion-dollar brands like Dr. Dre's Beats headphones and enduring retail staples such as Diddy's Sean John and Jay-Z's Rocawear, Hip-Hop’s influence permeates through fashion, style, and culture.

Despite its multimillion dollar success around the world, and the insane amount of talent in every sub-genre, it didn’t start out this way. 50 years in, it has evolved from back room parties in the Bronx featuring two turntables and a microphone, into the world’s most dominant cultural movement. The authenticity of Hip-Hop's origins, sprouting from adversity, fostered a unique cultural style that spoke directly to those who felt marginalised. As the genre expanded beyond its Bronx birthplace, it carried with it not only the music but an entire culture, touching every facet of New York City and beyond.

It also went on to become insanely popular, and profitable, becoming a lucrative destination for partnerships and collaborations, with brands vying to embody the genre’s instinctive cool and authentic street credentials. According to the Seattle Times , “Hip-Hop’s impact on the $16 billion music industry and beyond is now so widespread, experts say it becomes difficult to quantify.”?

Amidst the myriad of collaborations, a question then emerges: when does the partnership cross the line into co-option? When do earnest attempts at inclusivity and embodying diverse narratives become a face-level gimmick? ?

Brand collaborations with Hip-Hop artists have become key for exposure. The integration of products in music videos, social media posts, and public appearances ensures that the brand's message reaches an engaged and diverse audience, seeking to create a genuine connection with consumers.?

“Hip-Hop’s impact on the $16 billion music industry and beyond is now so widespread, experts say it becomes difficult to quantify.”

Unsurprisingly the most enduring and recognisable collaborations between Hip-Hop artists have been born out of a mutual respect and shared values. The union between Adidas and Run-DMC for example established a milestone in history, becoming the first sponsorship of a musical group from a sports brand.

Beyond brand partnerships alone, the convergence of Hip-Hop and fashion is historical and incredibly well documented. Pharrell Williams' Louis Vuitton show, for example, was heralded as a beautiful, inspiring success. His notable incorporation of gospel music, primary focus on models of colour, and the active involvement of Pharrell, a person of colour, deeply rooted in Hip-Hop culture, himself as the creative director cemented him as an authentic tastemaker in the luxury fashion world.?

However, despite these outward displays of inclusivity and culture, a problem arises when considering the predominantly white decision-makers within the company itself. The tendency for people of colour to be viewed as talents to be utilised by the corporate world rather than engaged in mutually collaborative partnerships can lead to clumsy and poorly executed strategies. Simply placing an artist at the figurehead of a campaign, or showing up at cultural events without understanding their histories, feels insincere. Boardrooms of people who don’t engage with the history and development of Hip-Hop are doomed for awkward and flawed creative ideas.?

Inauthentic brand partnerships, however, often demonstrate a controversial power dynamic at play: one where the culture of a historically black and brown genre, one with anti-establishment sentiments embedded into its lyrical prowess, is co-opted by the corporate world, and turned into fit-for-mass-consumption, and ultimately lucrative profits. Ice Spice and Dunkin Donuts, the Travis Scott meal at McDonald’s, have all been lucrative. But does it mirror the success of, say, Run-DMC and Adidas, who’s cultural access lives on in longevity nearly 40 years later? Will it be effective long-term, or is it truly out of lucrative profitability potential??

We’re also living through a time where everything and anything is sponsored in some capacity. Club Renaissance by Amazon Music, Boiler Room x HBO Max, Bottega Veneta at Berghain, Interview & Spotify’s GLOW. On the one hand, this big brand power helps facilitate the counter-culture, funding it with the necessary resources for cultural enrichment and to spread to further audiences. But, a tension can arise where the voices they intend to amplify get squeezed out and the history is unacknowledged. Despite the huge virality and financial success in the Travis Scott McDonald’s meal - will it be remembered for years to come beyond its monetary success? It all goes from financial facilitation to capitalist co-option - where it’s no longer about the culture, but about the profit.?

It’s especially fascinating when considering the underground, anti-establishment nature of the genre. Do corporate partnerships democratise and share the rich cultural history of Hip-Hop, or negate Hip-Hop’s roots in anti-establishment, only co-opting it to come across “cool”. From the rebellious cries of "Fuck the Police" to Odd Future's nihilistic malaise, Hip-Hop emerged as rallying cries against established elites. Yet, as Hip-Hop permeates the mainstream, questions arise about its punk-y icons and whether the genre has been co-opted. Has the genre become so mainstream that its anti-establishment ethos has been subdued in favour of profit??

Brands who want to show up at cultural events and promote the trendsetters and tastemakers of the genre, yet don’t want to engage with the actual history, result in clumsy and overly opportunistic results. The best collabs are meaningful and make sense historically, they still feel relevant and are not just a blip in the moment. Adidas and Run-DMC will be remembered for years to come, Pharrell’s work with both creating Billionaire Boys club and his work at Louis Vuitton have showcased the beauty that can come with authentic engagement and with collaborating directly with Hip-Hop legends themselves, and Beats by Dre will always be synonymous with the genre and a cultural cornerstone. Hip-Hop will now always exist in tangent with brands and partnerships, but those who engage authentically are poised to succeed.?

We, at Truant, wanted to both explore and celebrate the milestone of Hip-Hop, and its 50 year legacy. So this week we’ll be hosting Unruly: where marketing and music collide , an event to share music viewpoints and insights on where the genre has taken us in the last 50 years, and where it's set to take us over the next 50 and beyond…

"Brands who want to show up at cultural events and promote the trendsetters and tastemakers of the genre, yet don’t want to engage with the actual history result in clumsy and overly opportunistic results."

Understanding virality

A few weeks ago, I read a brilliant article about how big data is making everything feel… mid. For those of you who don’t know, mid is an extremely cathartic term that's been circulating around TikTok for a few years now, and oh boy, is it an insult. Essentially, it means something has little impact, or is just “okay.” As Emily, the author, writes: in 2023, you’d rather your work be bad than mid. She writes that social media algorithms have made everything feel mid.

Everything that’s cool gets liked, exposed through virality, is eventually copied as a victim of dupe culture, and in essence: becomes mid.?It’s a tale as old as time: things that are 'cool' tend to arise within the counterculture, but once it gets co-opted by big corporations with big financial intentions, it’s no longer 'cool'. Underground artists hit the mainstream and become basic, the esoteric brand of trainers quickly become wack, even slang terms become a bit cringe when they become heavily repurposed with fit-for-consumer ambitions.

And with social media algorithms becoming so heavily targeted, the cycle now feels a bit endless. Everything seems to have lost its lustre online, the constant output of content ultimately denotes everything circulated in virality as bland. The constant overexposure leaves us mere users over-stimulated yet uninspired, as countercultural niches get pushed further and further out of the spotlight (or, worse, these niche, rich spots of cultural growth get immediately circulated and monetised. See:do hobbies exist anymore? ). As the entrepreneur Justin Goff says: “If you try to appeal to everyone, you'll appeal to no one.”?

Recently, we published an article in Creativebrief which discussed whether the creative industry should be doing more to support brands in connecting with and reflecting culture. And on the heels of reading how hyper-targeted social media platforms coupled with encouraged overconsumption, it was easy to see how culture could become conflated with virality. More specifically, how “culture” as an idea works well with virality. It’s an engaging idea, something existing outside the cultural mainstream, whose niche qualities can be used by brands, and thus make it fit for mass-consumption-purpose.?

"Everything that’s cool gets liked, exposed through virality, is eventually copied as a victim of dupe culture, and in essence: becomes mid."

It was an interesting idea to engage with, perhaps because I could feel my occasional rage boiling over from constantly seeing campaigns both IRL and online that merely repurpose the shiny new things from the online world, rather than actually engage with them meaningfully. It’s hard not to think of a campaign saying “tuna that passes the vibe check” as incredibly awkward and mid. I really think it’s a disconnection in understanding virality. Brands trying to unpack why things can go viral is puzzling (I mean, how many times have you been sitting in a meeting, being briefed to make something “just go viral!”?!).?

Culture and virality often get conflated in a largely digital world. Culture seems to be the most overused word in marketing, yet often without thought or meaning. It’s a lightning-speed entity constructed through community, often from outside of the mainstream. The rapid speed of trends, or fads, online often gets denoted as the digital culture of our times. And before you say it’s sacrilegious for these ‘memes’ online to become ‘culture’ - it’s not! What goes viral online is often a depiction of our collective psyche - a wonderful viewpoint into an often strange and niche world of thoughts. Sure, ‘girl -dinner ’ online (or eating a hodgepodge of comfort snacks for dinner, instead of traditional entrées) may seem like a random fad, but perhaps it’s a more interesting reflection of the concept of womanhood in tangent with eating (or, perhaps, a repackaged cost of living crisis coping mechanism).

The posting of cute baby animals lying around with the caption “this is me , if you even care ” on the one hand is just another repeat of our collective love of cute things, but also more widely reflects a coping mechanism against an ever-increasingly confusing, nihilistic world, where all we want is to be comfortable and lie down when faced with the never-ending climb of work, bills, and capitalism. There is obscurity in virality - every ‘viral’ moment we see online is there for a reason. There is a constant barrage of targeted content we’re meant to engage with, often with huge financial backing to be pushed to the top of our algorithms, and it can feel exhausting. In a world where authenticity is everything, users find themselves attracted to the more niche and obscure content online, or things that feel natural and not brainstormed in a boardroom.?

Culture is not trends that can simply be ‘brought’ off the internet and packaged up with a nice ribbon. As our culture becomes increasingly intertwined with the digital world, brands find themselves at a crossroads on how to authentically and successfully connect with culture online. All too often brands attempt to connect with culture, but instead end up only scratching the surface and confuse what’s ‘trendy’ online with cultural relevance. Culture isn’t repurposable without engagement, and in order to even attempt to reflect cultural cornerstones, brands need to authentically connect with it, understand, read, eat, and live in it and with it. Repurposing a meme on an X and Threads platform is going to feel flat, and your audience will sniff it out instantly.

Authenticity is fundamental when brands engage with digital culture. To make culture in advertising feel fresh and exciting, it requires a level of engagement only possible through sincere time and research. Additionally, relevancy is key. Engaging with cultural phenomena that feels relevant to an audience can help avoid the risk of making everything feel ‘mid’ and hollow, and cut through the endless stream of targeted content consumers face every day. The democratisation of culture through the online world has been amazing in terms of exposing wider groups of people to interesting aspects of community and belonging, but when access is disseminated without proper engagement, it can just feel lazy.

"Culture is not trends that can simply be ‘brought’ off the internet and packaged up with a nice ribbon."

Unwrapping Christmas 2023? ?

The art of the ubiquitous 'Christmas ad'?has always been a testament to storytelling, and a yearly task of reflecting on the cultural zeitgeist and general country-wide attitude at the same time. Tear-jerking, heartwarming - the Christmas campaign works to resonate with the audience at the deepest, most emotional of levels, and has always fixated on crafting cheerful narratives above product promotion. At a time of global hardship, Christmas ads can either be a reliable comfort mechanism to fall back into, or a way to challenge traditional norms and spark conversation.?

That being said, it never really… pivots from tradition. There have been attempts at creating conversation during Christmas from the juggernaut entrants, but something about the nature of the Christmas ad always feels tame. Breaking tradition is eschewed, and even those who venture out of the festive schmaltz tend to do with apprehension.

It can also be hard to get excited about Christmas this year. According to Ipsos , while 70% of Brits say they’re looking forward to it, nearly 44% of them are anxious (about the cost)… to say the least. When money is tight for gifts, the mounting stress of political tensions means your racist Aunt might ruin Christmas dinner, and overall nihilism about the state of our materialist world is on the rise, Christmas can feel a bit… meh.?

All of these sentiments feel relevant through a recent TikTok trend, with younger generations posting yearnful slideshows of early 2000s Christmas nostalgia . Far from polished and glamorous, they herald blurry digital photos of fireplaces, snow-covered playgrounds, more simplistic and gauche forms of gift wrapping (compared to the overly-stylised forms we see today), campy inflatable Santas, and overall childhood nostalgia of a time far less complicated than now. It shows that people now want at least some of a traditional Christmas back - with its campy, maybe childlike traditions and all. The comments are flooded with sentiments like “Christmas used to be so fun and magical.

Now it’s just another day” or “Christmas hasn’t felt like this in so long, I truly miss it.” Either we’ve all grown up and are now faced with the budget-breaking side of Christmas, or maybe the myriad of consumerist content we see everyday has numbed us. Christmas’?mismatched aesthetic feels a bit more… sleek now in the media, and it’s sooo much less fun.?

"With younger generations posting yearnful slideshows of early 2000s Christmas nostalgia... It shows that people now want at least some of a traditional Christmas back - with its campy, maybe childlike traditions and all."

So how have Christmas campaigns mirrored this yearning? How can brands find the perfect medium between idolising the holiday, and making it still feel relevant for audiences? Despite being an advert in itself - how can brands break through the simple product and quality control, and instead uplift the storytelling that people look for in times of discomfort??

Christmas campaigns are a reliable comfort. Even the most cynical can’t help but look during the holiday season. Despite being described like marmite (you either love ‘em or hate ‘em), they’re still cultural cornerstones, especially in the UK.?

The most effective of them all are the ones that tap into nostalgia for traditional Christmas narratives. Barbour uses Shaun the Sheep to weave a humorous yet sweet narrative about thoughtful gifting. Tesco shows us that even the biggest holiday cynics can’t help but love the campy, nostalgic little things about the season. Amazon’s ‘Joyride’ campaign was ranked by System1 as one of the most effective, showing a group of older women sentimental for their sledding heydays. Aldi, ranked the most effective out of the lot, sees the return of beloved Kevin the Carrot, illustrating seasonal goodwill and taking motifs from Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory.

All of these put storytelling at the forefront, and let their products and services take a backseat. They tap into strong images of nostalgia, and act as a comfort mechanism against the unnecessary materialism the holiday has come to represent. Even John Lewis’ Venus Fly Trap can be seen as celebrating the spirit of love and family regardless of what your holiday may look like, and not an encouragement to bin your tree in favour of something a little… different.?

The more controversial attempt to upgrade what Christmas means, M&S’s “Thismas not Thatmas'' campaign that disregards some of the Christmas traditions we feel forced to adapt to every year in favour of new ones.?And while the break in tradition may be creatively interesting, audiences online are divided as to whether it’s a fresh-take and comic relief, or straying too far from those schmaltzy traditions we’ve grown to love (regardless of how silly they can seem at times). Others like Waitrose and ASDA rely solely on celebrity cameos, with the former of the two simply promoting the quality of their luxury food.?

Amidst a backdrop of a divisive world, filled with collective nihilism, decreasing trust in leaders, and overall indignation at disparity during a cost-of-living crisis, our mistrust extends into the Christmas season. We can see online that people crave nostalgia and at least some aspects of tradition. They aren’t one for Christmas purism necessarily, but embracing some of the quirks can feel not only comforting and reliable, but can actually be transgressive in a hyper-materialist world. People fall in love with the simplicity that can come with Christmas: family, rainbow tree lights, and overall feelings of joy. Some of this has been lost over time, becoming more sleek and commercial, which can negate some of the more wholesome qualities of the festive season.

Unsurprisingly campaigns that fixate on emotional storytelling rise in effectiveness, and can combat some of the cynical materialism that audiences (ESPECIALLY younger audiences) can associate with the season. Advertising can either be a welcomed, warm hug and a chance to indulge in childlike nostalgia, or simply feel like another way to market products during the festive?season already associated with materialism. Brands that get it right not only produce heartwarming content, but can help their audiences feel all the more optimistic, and find a space for respite in a confusing, divisive world.?