Sponsor (Oct-Dec 1964)

COMMERCIAL CRITIQtJJE Trouble in Drivel City By Bill Backer Vice president and associate creative director McCann-Erickson, New York 1 feel obliged to publish a dcsclaimer here at the top. I am not an agency music man by trade, nor a professional supplier of music to this business. I'm paid for writing and directing advertising, or for my neat appearance or out of kindness. B.M.I, sends me an occasional check for some none-too-popular music I've written over the years. But along Madison Avenue my beat is not, and never has been, an agency music department. I point this out because some people prefer the opinions of an acknowledged expert in a particular field, and I wouldn't want them feeling cheated. Sponsor magazine pulled my name from results of the 1964 American Television Commercials Festival: "Best Music With Lyrics, William Backer". That's why they asked me to write about commercial music. 1 don't expect my musical opinions, then, to merit much pause from the likes of Dan Seymour, Joseph Kaselow or Mitch Leigh. But the fact of a relative outsider landng in this spot does raise an interesting question. What went wrong with the thousands of other jingles and songlets? Where are the pros? ['11 hazard some guesses and keep any specific musical criticisms to Tiyself. To begin with, the people who Drder up music in this business are from Ad Alley, not Tin Pan Alley. Many don't understand what music can and can't do. They end up Msing it as an easy way out — the way a shifdess housecleaner uses a rug — not for the color and the feeling, but to hide dust or dusty ideas. Got a moldy, tired phrase? Try to conceal the drabness with music. V^our cold, logical approach seems to just lie there? Cover up the tell:a]e sign with two-four, four-four, any beat at all — whatd'ya talk, Movember 16, 1964 whatd'ya talk — all that went out with the cracker barrel. Nowadays, who needs a point of view? Put a beat right there, and tune all through, and a big brass drum, and a rat-a-tat-tat • — • shout it to the public, forty voices, rosy future, high hopes, you got trouble. My friend, before you call for your message in music, you better have a tight, bright, neatly expressed, two-dimensional idea. You can't stop at what you want people to think about your product. You'd better decide how they should feel about it, too. And if, in your opinion, this particular product's appeal is 100 percent logical, let the fiddlers fiddle in somebody else's studio. Because music isn't sensible, it's sensory. And the guy who looks down a bald list of product attributes and calls for an arranger has harmed this business as much as anyone 1 know. Did you ever stop to think what would have happened to the golden days of song writing if some of our present-day advertising czars had seized control of the Brill Building? Basin Street is the street, Where modern style and vahie meet. So smooth you'll jind your car behaves On this modern design, handcrafted by slaves. '"Hey, Manny, have someone put a tune to this by tomorrow morning!" The same public which dozes while a singing commercial parks an exciting new car in Dullsville, wakes up and plunks ten million hard earned dollars on records that sing out streets — a far duller subject. How come? Because the writers wrote like people feel, as well as how people think. They saw their subject from the "Sunny Side of the Street" or from "Easy Street" or "The Street Where You Live." And they wrote with a flair. BILL BACKER, whose opening disclaimer must be taken lightly, is indeed an authority on music for commercials. He is vice president and one of three associate creative directors at McCann-Erickson. As a v/riter, his commercials have been recognized with several gold medals from Cannes, two first place awards and a dozen or so certificates of merit from the American Tv Commercials Festival, plus various radio and local awards. This year's American Tv Commercials Festival judges awarded Backer the special citation for "Best —Music With Lyrics" for the Coca-Cola theme "Things go better with Coke." Given that kind of writing, a songlet or jingle can find romance in anything from a railroad to a recipe. "Oreo Cookies" or "Cracker Jack" are easy compared with "Shoo Fly Pie" and "Apple Pan Dowdy" or "Eatin' Goober Peas.' David Ogilvy claims that good salesmen don't sing, 1 rather think that good salesmen don't sing merely to add a note of memorability. The guaranteed remembrance factor went out of singing years ago. In order to make a sale, however, good salesmen do sing at the right moment: like when they want a beer drinker to feel mellow and convivial over the gusto in a particular brew, or when a whole generation should feel like twisting in a certain brand of shoes. Want everyone from 16 to 60 feeling like "Happy Days are Here Again" or "Hallelujah" or "Everything's Coming Up Roses" because of the world's most popular soft drink? Why not "Things Go Better with Coke?' The only reason I can think of is you end up having to try to write articles like a music expert. ♦ 63