Counterculture advertising

Advertising and publicity have always borrowed the credibility and fame of certain individuals to communicate a message, sell a product, or reinforce an idea. From the musical propaganda recorded by Marlene Dietrich to demoralize enemy soldiers during World War II, to the pin-ups of the 50s and 60s, or the way Andy Warhol blended art, celebrity, and advertising in his work, artists have always been connected to the entertainment and communications industry.

During that same era, between the 70s and 80s, counterculture movements like punk, for example, brought a narrative that opposed this partnership between artists and advertising (or the market as a whole, in a way). At that time, anti-capitalist and anti-establishment rhetoric set the tone for how these individuals expressed themselves through music, behavior, fashion, visual arts, literature, or even film. Cyberpunk, in fact, was an offshoot of science fiction literature that, in the 80s, brought the rebellious and pessimistic inspiration of punk into the context of the cybernetic technologies developing throughout the decade.

‍

A few weeks ago, The Guardian published the article No alternative: how brands bought out underground musicin which Rachel Aroesti discusses how brands are investing in partnerships with alternative artists and whether this is destroying the notion of counterculture. Despite the provocative title, the text attempts to argue both the positive and negative sides of the practice. This, in fact, has been happening since the 90s, when Vans launched the Vans Warped Tour, a music and sports festival held in the United States and Canada.

However, it was especially over the last ten years that companies began to get closer and closer to artists, as if seeking in them an authenticity that the brand itself often cannot build on its own. According to Jamie Brett of Youth Club, a non-profit organization that maps youth culture, brands have become increasingly interested in reconnecting with their subcultural heritage or attempting to forge a past connected to a specific niche if they don't have one.

In this way, brands end up taking a shortcut in branding by borrowing the cool factor from alternative artists, as if these companies were actually setting trends. This guidance is primarily provided from the perspective of coolhunting, a discipline that researches and maps trends that are still on the fringes, in specific niches, but will soon become popular. It is from the book The Signals Are Talking: Why Today’s Fringe Is Tomorrow’s Mainstreamthat Amy Webb addresses the work of coolhunters in visualizing these trends, with this practice also being an offshoot of Future Studies.

Aroesti cites recent examples of how artists like rapper Princess Nokia starred in a Maybelline short film, as well as the band The Rhythm Method, which provided the soundtrack for a Topman fashion show. Beyond these one-off partnerships, there are also platforms like the Red Bull Music Academy, where the company truly offers an artistic residency and support for the development of a music scene, often focused on talent that is still very much on the periphery. Because of this, the initiative ended up gaining a hipster touch, even here in Brazil, where Red Bull operates this same project in São Paulo, with the Red Bull Basement festival being one of the offshoots of the various initiatives the brand has launched to support researchers and artists.

However, Aroesti also warns that this initiative is not particularly profitable for Red Bull. According to one of the founders of the RBMA, Many Ameri, the company only entered the music business to present things that are interesting and to use that freedom to offer visibility to artists, which marks a counterpoint to the way record labels manage the success of their artists from a commercial point of view. It is because there is no pressure for financial return that artists like rapper Little Simz describe Red Bull as a "very kind" company for having supported her musical production without interfering in her creative process.

‍

This didn't make Little Simz famous—in fact, her album didn't even chart. And that isn't even the goal of brands when establishing contact with these artists. According to Steven Appleyeard of Boiler Room, by inviting musicians from a more alternative scene, brands ensure they won't be "overshadowed" by their fame. "Working with top 10 artists can be a false investment, because the reach and engagement the brand gains from it is kind of transient," he argues.

As an online music performance streaming site, Boiler Room has worked with brands since its launch. This is precisely what allows the platform to remain competitive while offering its product for free. Furthermore, as Appleyard argues, this is often the only way certain artistic ideas can be realized. Sponsored by Budweiser, BR is responsible for artist curation, but the final lineup is decided in conjunction with the brand, as it needs to make sense for both the site and the brand's identity—which, often, can end up being so generic that it doesn't become a limiting factor.

‍

On the other hand, journalist Rachel Aroesti raises the possibility that brands bring underground artists into their advertising campaigns more for their style and look than for their actual work. Recently, the fashion label Versus Versace brought in rapper Tommy Genesis alongside singer Cosmo Pyke to star in its Winter 2017 campaign. "I'm very aware that these collaborations come with the privilege of brands thinking you're pretty enough," she comments. "I have no illusions that when we receive these job offers, it's because, of course, we are artists, but also because we have the look they want."

It is from this context that Aroesti speaks about a "commodification of counterculture." While brands are beginning to focus on major causes, such as representation and identity politics, artists are bringing a "milder" side of this theme to the table through projects like the recent Smirnoff campaign, Equalizing Music, which aims to double the number of female artists at festivals by 2020.

In general, the secret is to understand which partnerships actually make sense and which truly align with the brand. That is, just because a certain singer is gaining prominence by starring in advertising campaigns doesn't mean that artist can fit into any and every positioning or discourse applied by brands. A good national example is the way singer Karol Conka has been carving out her space in advertising, whether in campaigns that are better suited to her identity and artistic work, while others seem to just borrow her backgroundas a way to add value to a brand that doesn't necessarily align with how the artist positions herself creatively.

Finally, Aroesti cites some controversial examples, such as when U2 partnered with Apple, limiting access to their album Songs of Innocence to an audience of 500 million people on iTunes, or when Alicia Keys collaborated with BlackBerry but continued tweeting from an iPhone. Despite this, in general, the public has accepted the fact that alternative artists are establishing these types of partnerships, especially when taking the financial perspective into account.

As the journalist concludes, "it seems logical when you consider the fact that partnerships between artists and brands exist in a climate of guilt," since fans listen to their compositions for free on streaming services like Spotify or YouTube, where the presence of advertising is a symptom of the fact that those listeners aren't really interested in paying for music—and that is precisely why those services were created.

Even so, Aroesti says this complicity can also be a cause for concern, since, although advertising has not yet completely dominated the counterculture, it is already changing the way the alternative music scene is structured.

‍