The above line is from a Warren
Zevon tune, and very apropos to today’s rather lengthy post.
When it comes to establishing true Surprise in marketing, nobody does it better than the rogues known as Guerilla Marketers. These firms (like BzzAgent, Zig, and my fave, GoGorilla Media) are David-sized streetfighters who have to deliver Goliath-sized results, armed only with slingshot-sized budgets (Whew! Carried that analogy through…). They’re the punk rock indies traveling in a broken-down van, compared to the somewhat bloated, private-jet superstars of Madison Avenue.
As Zig’s Creative Director Aaron Starkman said in response to a whup-ass “Haunted House” campaign it put together for Scream TV:
“In today’s weird marketing environment, you’ve got to out-smart, not out-spend.”
That reminds me of my days at Just
For Laughs, when Bruce Hills and I used to scam First-Class flight upgrades
armed only with Festival swag. “Any
schmuck can buy spend $12,000 for a First Class ticket to London,” we used to
say, “but it takes a REAL MAN to sit right next to him for $319, a stuffed
puppet and a couple of t-shirts.”
Same thing goes in marketing. Any schmuck can spend zillions on an
integrated campaign, but it takes a real man (or woman…calm down, I’m just
drawing a parallel to the statement above) to do something Surprising that
people will talk about on a shoestring.
Brandweek recently published its
annual tribute to the off-beaters, and laid down five rules of marketing,
guerilla-style. I particularly enjoyed
rule #1:
Don’t Get Arrested
“…when the cops come, do what they say. You may also want to add some bail money to the budget.”
Boy-oh-boy, can I relate! More than two decades ago, I owned a promo
agency (hey, my Surprise street cred runs long) and my job was to launch the
American Rock Café, a Hard Rock clone in Montreal, with bombastic brouhaha on
an inverse relationship to its miniscule budget. So what I did was hire a loud Beatles-imitator
band called The Beasties, put them and some Marshall Amps on a rickety flat-bed truck,
and paraded them through the Downtown streets at lunch-hour.
The reaction was insane. People poured out of stores and restaurants,
looked down from office windows, and got out of their cars in mid-street to
catch the action.
Equally as interested was a squad
car of Montreal's men in blue, who stopped the truck and demanded what was going on. I was following in the car behind, and jumped
to defend my stroke of genius.
“Where’s your parade permit?” I was asked, and quite gruffly to boot. I didn’t have one; a parade permit would’ve cost more than the entire operation.
I pulled out the only piece
of legitimacy I had on me.
“This is a permit to film a TV commercial!”
the cop roared. “Where are the cameras?”
And at that, I reached into my
front seat and pulled out my Dad’s ol’ Bell & Howell 35mm film camera. Circa 1966. Void of batteries, film, and most working parts. Basically, the world's weakest insurance policy.
Miraculously, the cop got back in
his car and The Beasties continued to soothe the savage breast of the Montreal lunch crowd.
I learned two lessons that day:
1) Big Balls Beat Big Budgets
2) The Camera Is Mightier Than The Gun
So here's to marketing's Guerillas...wherever they're swinging!