Make It Stop, Make It Stop! (Alan Jackson's Blathersome Gospel Advert)

<Here's how that annoying ad starts...
(YouTube-stylee screen capture)>

We've got a box to put in your brain

Hard wired for downloading

All the secrets and the mysteries

You've been selfishly withholding

The dreams and hopes

That once were yours

Will now be collected and dispersed

So the first to come with cash to spend

Will be the first one served

<Tracy Chapman, "Hard Wired" (2002)>

<i.>

Nothing personal against Alan Jackson, but his "Precious Memories" TV spot irritates the living f#ck out of me. I've been subjected to it, over and over and over, in all its mindless, grinding, ticktock regularity, to the point of audible shuddering and revulsion, when I hear those ringing chords of its opening number:

"Some glad morning, when my work is over, I'llll flyyyy awayyy..." 

By now, I have my routine down. I know just what to do. I grab my remote, and flip the channel. If I'm feeling especially weary -- since I'm usually subjected to this ad late at night -- I shut the TV off or two minutes. Then, back to whatever dubious show I've already chosen (per the Sex Pistols, in "No Feelings": "I'm watching all the rubbish, and wasting my time").

A rather drastic remedy, yeah. But at least it's one that makes feel more in control, instead of continuing to eyeball something against my will.

For those who've somehow managed to escape it -- which seems impossible to imagine -- the focus of my ire, Precious Memories, is a two-CD collection of classic gospel songs that Jackson released through Walmart last fall. Call it a busman's holiday for an artist who came up in the early 1990s, as one of the so-called "hat acts," whose slicker country-pop began to overtake the traditionalist twang long associated with the genre. 

My antennae tell me that Jackson represents the better end of the whole Hat Act equation, though I've never felt prompted enough to acquire any of his records, let alone those from the other flag bearers of that particular flotilla -- Garth Brooks, Billy Ray Crus, Tim McGraw, Travis Tritt, and all the rest of 'em. Again, it's nothing personal: I prefer a blast of Pinups (David Bowie), myself, now and again. It's simply a matter of preference.

<They just wanna testify:
Alan Jackson, above (rare non-cowboy hat photo):
Alan's mom and wife (below, left and right, respectively)>

<ii.>

Just to make myself abundantly clear, I don't have any issue with the music being promoted here, either. Country and gospel have long been intertwined since the record industry's beginnings, with many an artist -- from Johnny Cash, to George Jones, to Dolly Parton, and Randy Travis, to name only a few -- paying tribute to the hymns that they sang or heard, growing up.

For those who feel a similar calling, I'm sure that Precious Memories won't disappoint. All the usual suspects are here, recorded live at Ryman Auditorium, the temple of country music -- from "How Great Thou Art," to "Just As I Am," "The Old Rugged Cross," and many, many more -- and certainly sound great, even in snippet form. Or, should I say, sounded great.

Because the novelty of being forced to hear them -- over and over and over, again and again and again, several times a night -- wore off long ago. It didn't take me long to reach the point of listening for mistakes! Not that I expected to find any, but it might make me feel better about waking up -- as I've done recently, in fact -- hearing those songs in my mind.

"Then siiinnngs my soul, my Savior, God, to thhheee...."

And that's when they really throw in the monkey wrench. Those ordering the double DVD version will also get "intimate interviews with Alan, his wife, and his mother as they reflect on his musical roots, as well as his personal journey." The first time I heard the announcer lay this gem on me, I groaned aloud. "What the hell is this doing in there?" I asked myself. "Can't he just let the music do the talking? Does he have to convince us that he's some sort of social messiah, too?"

I mean, it's not like he's forcing it on anyone who's not  inclined to spend their $28.85. But even so, the notion of Alan, his mother and wife -- who bears a striking resemblance to Jennifer Aniston -- expounding on faith, justice and the American Way seems like such an unnecessary addition to the enterprise.

And, more to the point -- it doesn't make me feel anymore forgiving toward the marketers who've gatecrashed their way into my brain...uninvited.

<And here's how that bothersome ad should end, 

once and for all -- fading to black!>

<iii.>

The "Precious Memories" ad isn't the first time that any of us have endured the unwelcome hell of relentless repetition. I remember the gnawing feeling of dread that would sweep over me during the holidays, when some sort of sex drug or other would flash on my screen.

I can recall the tagline, uttered by the stars, some clean-scrubbed yuppie couple, or other -- something to do with, "just kick off our shoes, and then, go straight to bed." I quickly tired of seeing them, too, carpet bombed into my senses, hour after hour after hour. 

And I also remember enduring a fair chunk of one '90s-era summer, courtesy of a boss who adored The Division Bell, the flagship album of the lusher (yet blander) post-Waters Pink Floyd era.  Some nights, we all heard it three or four times running in the newsroom, which nearly drove me right around the bend. 

I've almost forgiven David Gilmour, if only because he's such a great, inventive guitar player, but I just can't stomach hearing that album ever again. 

Still, all these anecdotes should drive home one basic point. The human brain just isn't wired to experience any combination of images or sounds at saturation levels. To me, it's a symptom of a much bigger problem -- a world whose defining tools, like Twitter and TikTok, seem designed to continually shrink our attention spans, until we'll finally give in, and let their creators do whatever the hell they want with our senses.

Don't believe me? The industry's spin doctors admit as much, like the minds  behind the curtain at mymarketingdoctor.com, who cite a study on the effects on streaming (see links below). According to the study, six repetitions of one ad per hour amounted to a 92% overall increase in awareness of the particular brand.

However, the study also showed annoyance increasing by over 48% among those same participants -- feelings so pervasive, in fact, that their intentions to buy declined by 16%:

"Consumers often perceive repetitive ads as intentional actions by the brand, which can impact their perception of the brand. With this in mind, media agencies must manage ad frequency and optimize exposure to protect the brand's reputation and market sentiment. Consistency in ad delivery and an optimal viewing experience are important to maintain positive consumer sentiment and protect sales performance."

There you have it. Whether Alan Jackson's marketing team learns this lesson, time will tell. Having been so relentlessly exposed to his latest effort, thanks to a campaign that puts the "nausea" back in "ad nauseum," I'm not sure that I care one way or the other anymore.

All I can say is, the floodgates of mere irritation burst wide open long ago, into raging torrents and cascades of resentment. This much, I can tell you -- if I never hear a note of Alan Jackson's music again, I'll count myself a happy man. And what's more, a greatly relieved one, at the same time. --The Reckoner

<Coda: One More Thing, Sir...>

"When we die, I suspect that our last thoughts are not about the Great Truths which we seldom hear nor do we spend our final moments recalling some Wondrous Beauty so infrequently glimpsed -- the light streaming through a Sequoia tree, a Polynesian sunset -- that sort of thing.

"No, I suspect that our last thoughts are those dopey advertising slogans which have been clubbed and beaten and pounded into our minds thousands and thousands of times  so that even as our brains begin to melt and the worms commence to gnaw at the softer parts and the light flickers and fades, even as we are swept toward the Eternal Void, we'll still be mumbling over and over, "Looks like a pump, feels like a sneaker...Looks like a pump, feels like a sneaker...Looks like a pump, feels..."

<Mr. Mike: The Life and Work of Michael O'Donoghue: 1998>

Links To Go: Hurry, Hurry

(Before Those Same Damn Ads Invade Your Brain Again):

Tracy Chapman: Hard Wired (lyrics in comments):
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bhl2KtsZKEM

Digiday: Ad Overexposure On CTV Hurts Streamers As Much As Brands:
https://digiday.com/media-buying/ad-overexposure-on-ctv-hurts-streamers-as-much-as-brands/#:~:text=Participants%20who%20saw%20the%20same,overall%20experience%E2%80%9D%20by%2033%25.

My Marketing Doctor:
Repetition Or Irritation? Understanding Ad Frequency:
https://www.mymarketingdoctor.com/repetition-or-irritation-understanding-ad-frequency