Just as people often have a tendency to want to blurt out exactly what’s on their mind, so do companies seem to want to tell you, in their slogans and straplines, exactly what they want you to know about them, and in the least poetic, least inspiring, most pedestrian language possible. The unfortunate result of this bad habit is a surfeit of boring offical utterances like “The world’s local bank” (which at least has an idea in it) or “The simple plumbing solution” (simple and solution are always in extremely heavy rotation; I wish I held shares in those two words!).

The missing ingredient, in a word, is musicality — just, quite plainly, the way the words sound. Rhythm. Cadence. Tone. Timbre. Vibrato. Phrasing. When it comes to a slogan, these things matter not as much but MORE than the content. They are the forgotten criteria of sloganeering.

In his book You Are The Message, Roger Ailes gives an anecdote about Mark Twain which illustrates my point. Twain, trying to get dressed one morning, pulled out three shirts in a row that were short a button:

Twain flew into a rage, swearing like a stevedore. When he was through, he was startled to see his wife standing at the door, fuming in her own way at his intemperance. Carefully, slowly, and without a trace of emotion, she repeated every obscene word just uttered by her husband….When she was through, she stood impassive and silent, hoping her display would shame Twain. Instead, with a twinkle in his eye, he puffed his cigar and said, “My dear, you have the words, but you don’t have the music.”

There you go: it’s what you say and the way that you say it.

What I want you to notice is how it manages to be: 1) real; 2) helpful; 3) humourous but not jokey (good, since Innocent’s cornered the market in ha-ha quips). It conveys, “Yeah, okay, this is a computer talking to you, obviously, but behind that computer are real people who are competent and caring. And whom you can get a hold if you really need to.” Compare and contrast with the typical: DO NOT REPLY TO THIS MESSAGE bla bla bla, and the brand value of taking this higher — and not any harder — road becomes crystal clear.

Hello,

It’s Little MOO again. I thought you’d like to know, the following items from your order are now in the mail:

1 x MiniCards (100)

You requested Royal Mail delivery, which means it should reach you between 1 and 2 business days.

Remember, I’m just a bit of software, so if you have any questions regarding your order, the best place to start is with our Frequently Asked Questions. We keep the answers here:

http://www.moo.com/help/

If you’re still not sure, contact customer services, (who are real people) at:

https://secure.moo.com/service/

Thanks for ordering with MOO – we hope you love your order,

Thanks,
Little MOO, Print Robot

MOO
“We love to print”

"Seven pintucks on either side of the four-button front placket"

Everybody drives in Los Angeles.

Everywhere.

Always.

Except if you’re 13, as I was in 1987 the year the free copywriting lessons started. Then you walk home from school (Paul Revere Junior High, in my case) to find on your doorstep a catalog from a new clothing company called J. Peterman — a catalog with watercolour images of the garments (no photos!) and long copy so extraordinary, so captivating, that 19 years later it leads you to a mountain town high in the Ecuadorian Andes just to see if they were telling the truth about the “Otavalo Mountain Shirt,” made by the villagers of that town.

Claimed Peterman (then as now), this shirt’s “tiny wrinkles and creases…guarantee that you will look neither starched nor disheveled. You will look merely at ease.” Men, in particular, “will look broad-shouldered, brave, and secretly kind. Their female friends will encourage them to go without shaving for a few days.” At long last, then, on a summer market day, for $5 each and using the broken Spanish I learned at Paul Revere, I purchased three of the fabled camisas.

Shortly, I discovered that even the line about the shaving turns out to be absolutely accurate. But that’s for a different blog. Now, go get your own free copywriting lessons. Poke around J. Peterman online — make a cup of tea first, and allow a good half hour.

(Note: I posted this first to Saffron’s website.)