My kids often ask me why I “still” buy vinyl records. Um Dad, like, haven’t you heard of streaming? (Cue their snickering and eyerolls).
The easy answer is that I buy records because I like to surround myself with music. Much like physical books, vinyl records emit a sense of warmth. They turn a house into a home.
The longer answer is that vinyl records, at least to me, are what’s known as a “valuable inconvenience.” This inconvenience is part of their appeal. (I also feel artists should be paid fairly for their work… more on that later, Spotify).
Records take up space. You need to pamper them with wipes and brushes and keep them safe from dust and mould. To enjoy the magic in the grooves, you need to pull the record out of its sleeve and adjust the setting on your turntable. When side one is finished you need to get up and flip the record over to side two.
All of this time, care, and attention – in other words, inconvenience – is a form of investment. You have to live with the records you bring into your home. You just can’t click or swipe records away with your thumb like disposable digital files.
Thus invested, you are far more likely to give the music the attention and consideration it deserves.
Behold the cynicism
Unfortunately, the room to experience this old-fashioned – some would say, cumbersome – exchange of value and appreciation is narrowing.
The surge of new AI tools, and our relentless pursuit of convenience, has made ruthless efficiency the king of value in so many endeavours. Now, with generative AI, even intellect and creativity face commoditisation.
In the marketing and communications world here at New Narrative, sometimes we see companies focus on the volume, speed, and timing of their thought leadership publications, rather than focus on the substance of that output.
These companies make the right noises – one white paper (check), four podcasts (check), two videos (check) – but they want it all yesterday. How fast can you do this? they ask. How many readers and clicks will we acquire? It’s as if they want the results even before the hard work begins.
This approach to thought leadership is akin to a record executive telling a new artist, “Let’s push a lot of units!” rather than “Let’s write a batch of memorable songs that will make a lasting impact and shift the cultural dial.”
It’s no surprise that companies who succumb to this cynical mentality tend to publish half-baked mediocrity – i.e. thought leadership campaigns that are indistinguishable from the campaigns published by their competitors. This approach inevitably turns their campaigns into commodities and erodes their value.
This same mentality is also apparent on the business development side of the equation.
For example, some potential clients will reach out to New Narrative about sophisticated projects – say, a year-long blog series on the impact of AI on Asia’s enterprise software industry. They quickly ask for “per item” cost estimates, as if every blog or podcast is the same and we price thought leadership campaigns the same way McDonald’s prices its hamburgers.
When we follow up with a few questions (because, well, we mean business and don’t peddle in generic one-size-fits-all proposals), they ghost us. The message is clear: We can’t be bothered. Enough with this slow, old-fashioned demand for nuance and substance.
What I always want to say, if given the chance, is that a generic proposal results in a generic campaign. I’ve managed to say this a few times over the years. Usually, I receive an awkward sigh – the kind that simultaneously acknowledges the fundamental truth, while expressing a reluctance to be inconvenienced by it.
Hope springs eternal
Thankfully, all is not lost dear readers. The human need for substance is stubborn.
I recently attended a conference about the employment market in Hong Kong, home to New Narrative’s headquarters and my home for nearly two decades.
One panellist marvelled at the new AI-driven recruitment tools, celebrating how quickly the technology could sort and rank thousands of candidates. Don’t have the right search words on your CV? Into the bin you go.
Many in the audience nodded with affirmation. The HR representative carried on, breathlessly. “Organisations can maximise efficiencies as they acquire and deploy ‘human capital’ like never before.”
Now, maybe I’m naïve, but I was expecting a little more qualitative discussion at this conference. You know, perhaps something about questioning techniques to assess motivations and character. But no. Apparently, we were there to celebrate new ways to sort, rank, and discard “human capital.”
Just when it seemed all hope was lost, another speaker took the podium. He folded his hands and scanned the room. All of these new AI tools are certainly impressive, he said. But really, there wasn’t much to talk about if there aren’t any opportunities.
You know, we can claim Hong Kong is Asia’s most attractive city until we’re blue in the face. “But talented people won’t come if there’s no high-paying jobs. It’s that simple.”
The room emitted a collective sigh. The tech-as-saviour spell evaporated. A simple statement of substance won in the end.
The same is true for your thought leadership campaigns. Sure, AI tools may assist with more manual tasks, or perhaps help you brainstorm on the back end. At New Narrative, we are committed to deriving maximum value from these new tools, and we have even developed our own proprietary AI-driven research methodology, iN/Ntelligence.
But at the end of the day, it will always come down to putting in the hard, human work of wooing your audience with statements of substance.
After all, thought leadership publishing is a valuable inconvenience.
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