The Unholy Charisma of the Cheesy Local Ad Jingle
There’s a local carpet wholesaler ad that’s lived rent-free in my head since 2004. Three chords, flat harmonies, a nasal voice that sounds like it was recorded between smoko breaks, and an earworm of a lyric that doesn’t even rhyme. But it worked. I remember it better than my bank password.
Here’s the thing: local ad jingles, the cringier the better, might be the most truthful form of brand engagement out there. They aren’t trying to be clever. They’re not pretending to be your friend. They’re not created by a pitch team wearing oversized knitwear referencing Scandinavian art films. They’re raw. They’re made by someone’s neighbour with a borrowed keyboard and a ten-minute recording window between footy practice and school pickup.
And yet, they stick. Give me one of those over a polished TVC montage set to the latest breathy pop cover. Somewhere along the line, marketing became terrified of being uncool. We started filtering out everything that gave ads a pulse. Those cheap jingles with their dissonant chords and chaotic local charm? That’s not noise, that’s memory. That’s branding that lives in the marrow.
It’s time we admit it: the next big insight isn’t hiding in a dashboard or a Cannes reel. It might be in a dusty Casio keyboard in a Levin garage. Go on, hum it. You know you already are.
Here’s the thing: local ad jingles, the cringier the better, might be the most truthful form of brand engagement out there. They aren’t trying to be clever. They’re not pretending to be your friend. They’re not created by a pitch team wearing oversized knitwear referencing Scandinavian art films. They’re raw. They’re made by someone’s neighbour with a borrowed keyboard and a ten-minute recording window between footy practice and school pickup.
And yet, they stick. Give me one of those over a polished TVC montage set to the latest breathy pop cover. Somewhere along the line, marketing became terrified of being uncool. We started filtering out everything that gave ads a pulse. Those cheap jingles with their dissonant chords and chaotic local charm? That’s not noise, that’s memory. That’s branding that lives in the marrow.
It’s time we admit it: the next big insight isn’t hiding in a dashboard or a Cannes reel. It might be in a dusty Casio keyboard in a Levin garage. Go on, hum it. You know you already are.