I loved Kent Nichols’ (of Ask a Ninja) explanation of what we at FM — specifically our salespeople — do. Paraphrasing here, but the moderator asked how AAN has been successful courting brand advertisers. The secret, Kent said, is “sweaty people who drink” — aka hard work building real-life relationships with agencies and advertisers, sometimes with the lubricating influence of alcohol. It’s the non-engineerable aspect of advertising, he said, and it requires the sweat of people who do “voodoo bullshit” and “close deals.”
This panel has completely rocked — best of the SXSW interactive conference so far — and Kent Nichols is a great instigator. He totally gets it, and he expresses it in a laugh-out-loud hilarous way.
Interesting approach. I like the idea, though the video itself seems a little slow. They’re distributing it on their own site, and promoting it in a media buy that includes BabyCenter (FM partner and J&J subsidiary).
Reading one of my colleague’s blogs today (FM is rife with bloggers, wouldn’t you know it?), I got interested in checking out a podcast he mentioned: a lecture by Michael Pollan, of The Omnivore’s Dilemma fame. But, that’s as far as I could get.
To actually listen to this podcast, I have to remember — when I get home, after a busy day at work — to fire up iTunes, search for this podcast, and subscribe. Yeah, that’ll happen. Not.
One thing I love about my TiVo service is that I can go to the Web interface (still not as good as the ReplayTV service was, but pretty decent), and subscribe to a season pass of a new show that I recently heard about. On Netflix, I can go over and queue up the newest, hottest independent film reviewed in the NYT, months before it’s actually released on DVD. On Amazon, I can impulsively start a TiVo download of a movie or TV show that I suddenly remember I’d like to see.
In all these case, my entertainment is basically sent to me, after a few keystrokes, and it’s ready for me to enjoy whenever I find the time. Why can’t I do this on iTunes? Am I missing something?
Great piece by Carl Bialik in the WSJ today about online video metrics. This is something I’ve been talking to publishers about. It’s challenging to go from a format (online banners) about which you can know so much — impressions, click throughs, etc. to something about which you know so little, given the Web’s free-wheeling distribution methods (which are, by the way, amazing and wonderful). And yet, video can undeniably be more powerful.
From the piece, a run-down of how Viral Factory came up with a number for the number of times the popular “Star Wars Kid” video was viewed:
The final estimate of 900 million came from taking the number of Google search returns today; assuming there are five times as many Web sites, cumulatively, since the video debuted in 2003; estimating that one-third of these are “blogs / articles / forum posts”; that each of those were read by, on average, 50 people; that of those people — supposedly no one read more than one of those sites — three of four watched one or more clips; that of those who watched, each watched on average 10 of the roughly 120 versions of the video; and that on average these “Star Wars” Kid fans would watch each clip once a year, or three times in all. That’s 500,000 * 5 * 1/3 * 50 * 0.75 * 10 * 3 = 945 million. “We rounded down — what’s the odd 45 million between friends?” Viral Factory wrote in the comments.
I think my New Yorker subscription has lapsed but I’ve been too busy to even follow up on it lately. Anyway, here’s a little from the fascinating Gladwell review:
As Johnson points out, television is very different now from what it was thirty years ago. It’s harder. A typical episode of “Starsky and Hutch,” in the nineteen-seventies, followed an essentially linear path: two characters, engaged in a single story line, moving toward a decisive conclusion. To watch an episode of “Dallas” today is to be stunned by its glacial pace—by the arduous attempts to establish social relationships, by the excruciating simplicity of the plotline, by how obvious it was. A single episode of “The Sopranos,” by contrast, might follow five narrative threads, involving a dozen characters who weave in and out of the plot. Modern television also requires the viewer to do a lot of what Johnson calls “filling in,” as in a “Seinfeld” episode that subtly parodies the Kennedy assassination conspiracists, or a typical “Simpsons” episode, which may contain numerous allusions to politics or cinema or pop culture.
We are recording (ReplayTV-ing?) the debut of the American version of The Office tonight. Already watched a sneak preview on Myspace.com. (It’s the first time Michael and I have sat down together to watch full-screen video on the laptop in the living room. I’d imagine it won’t be the last.)
We loved the British original and have hopes (though not high hopes) that the American version captures something of the magic of the original. Mostly, we just loved and miss The Office so much (2 seasons and a special and it was done), that we’re willing to give the NBC version a try, if only to get a taste of that Office sensibility.
P.S. And for those of you who haven’t seen the original, BBC America is, coincidentally, starting the first season again on March 26 at noon.