There’s a book I bring up too much called “Language in Thought and Action.” It’s about the way semantics – the nuances between words and sentences – influence how we interpret, feel and respond to everything. The author writes, “it is my conviction that we need to have a habitually critical attitude towards language – our own as well as that of others…to ensure that we function adequately as citizens.” Word choices have a way of triggering our emotions and coloring our headspace–frequently without us noticing. How often in an argument with a romantic partner or in a meeting with a client or agency, does the use of one word make the entire discussion go left? How many times has the phrasing of an objective altered the path taken and the solutions sought after? One leader tasks the team to “Boost brand recall during the NBA Playoffs,” another to “Be unforgettable during the NBA Playoffs,” and the work streams land in completely different places.
Over the last decade in particular, one word has become ever-present with brands, marketers, and the content economy at large: relevance. “You’ve got to be culturally relevant.” “You’ve got to build relevance with a new generation.” “You’ve got to stay relevant with the times.” For many, the desire to be relevant has been the governing lens for countless choices. Many are fruitful, to be sure, but if we consider the silent impact of language framing, I wonder what changes if you chase resonance over relevance?
The underlying focus of relevance is attention. From classic advertising books like Faris Yakob’s “Paid Attention” to marketing mantras like “we need eyeballs,” to be relevant, the understanding is you have to grab people’s attention. On the hunt to be relevant, it makes sense why so many brands gravitate to attention-seeking tactics. In particular, shock, spectacle, disruption and attachment. A moldy fast food burger on a billboard. (Shock.) The death and bereavement of a digital mascot on social channels. (Spectacle.) A deli meat brand co-opting an F1 race. (Disruption.) The celebri-fication of everything. (Attachment.)
The words we choose as our goals set the mold for what a “good idea” looks like.
By comparison, the underlying focus of resonance isn’t attention, it’s feeling. The algorithm knows which songs are relevant to your taste profile, but when you hear one that speaks to you, you say it resonates. Because it made you feel something. Relevance is about eyes and thumbs. “We gotta get eyeballs.” “We need thumb-stopping content.” Resonance is about hearts and spirits. “What is the feeling we’re trying to evoke?” “What is the emotional experience we’re in conversation with?” It may seem like semantics (pejorative) but it’s really semantics (the nuance that might unlock a real connection.)
On the surface, the distinction to chase resonance can seem purely romantic or perhaps for-the-art-of-it-all, but what moves people into action more than a feeling? A few years ago when there was a rush of viral fashion trends like Barbicore and Cottagecore taking over cultural news cycles, Business of Fashion (BoF) highlighted that, “Gen Z consumes a lot of these trends as entertainment. They’re not necessarily buying it all.” How many 7-Eleven Crocs or hyper-stylized campaigns with a hip-hop star have we seen grab a headline in Complex or The Cut, but not actually move the intended audience to buying – or even thinking more favorably about – the brand? After it grabbed their attention, what did it make them feel? Understood? Encouraged? Joyful? Moved? Relevance is good commerce in the clickbait economy, but if the goal is really action, the bar is higher – or perhaps deeper.
Toni Morrison once reassured that “we can be careful of tolerating second-rate goals and secondhand ideas.” The right data or the right budget can get you relevance, but resonance is more demanding. It requires a real investment in the feelings underneath it all.
A few tactics towards resonance:
Be culturally-specific, even when it’s frightening. In the 1950s, the US Air Force surveyed 4000 pilots to design a new pilot seat. In the end, not a single one of the pilots fit in the seat they designed. They created something for everyone in general but no one in particular. For brands who have to appeal to the masses, it can feel like the safest course to speak to commonalities and not get too specific – or else that’s “too targeted.” But advertising is meant to be a magnet not a mirror. Humans – the self-centered little creatures we are – are remarkably good at making anything about ourselves. Despite being neither a woman nor a professional athlete, I can see myself in Nike’s extremely specific “So Win” campaign, in the same way a person with no connection to Black southern blues culture can see themselves in Ryan Coogler’s “Sinners.” Hitmaker Niles Rogers understood the power of being culturally-specific in the songs he wrote for Diana Ross. “‘I’m Coming Out’ was unmistakably a queer rallying cry, but its mantra — ‘I want the world to know / I got to let it show’ — made room for just about everyone.” As the Irish poet James Joyce put it, “In the particular is contained the universal.”
Design for people, not press. Coverage is one of the most visible signals a piece of work is culturally relevant. (But again, relevance doesn’t mean you’re resonating.) Marketers often make an area of interest in a consumer profile the starting point for a work stream. Agencies, motivated by getting their work covered beyond the ad trades, often start with a theme bubbling up in culture. Both risk ending up with something hollow that doesn’t actually move people. In a recent interview in the NYT, Jay-Z, named one of their 30 Greatest Living American Songwriters, spoke on the importance of focusing on the “interior” of a song vs. the flourishing elements. “Those are just ingredients that go into the song, whether that be about a big yacht, a Lexus, bragging about money — those are just props…That’s not the engine or the emotion that my music is running on.” A lot of work designed for the press has no interior, it’s all prop. It’s all trend. It’s all trick. But to resonate–with real people with blood vessels and nervous systems – it pays to keep asking, “what feeling are we exploring?”
Focus on what’s honest, not just what’s true. Finding a truth doesn’t mean you’ve figured out a feeling. In one of her seminal essays, “The White Album,” Joan Didion talked about the gap that can exist between a “narrative line” and “our actual experience.” A truth can make sense of things, but often misses the energy and nuance and rawness of honesty. It’s why songs or films that aren’t all the way
“correct” move us so acutely, because they speak to an honest feeling, even if it’s muddy or contradictory. That’s the stuff that resonates – the stuff that hits the spirit.
As attention gets harder to get and keep, the chase to be relevant will only intensify. To cut through, maybe we don’t just need better tools or better teams, maybe we need better words.
The views expressed in this column are those of the author – Donovan Triplett, strategy director at Wieden+Kennedy – and do not necessarily reflect the views of Brand Innovators.
