Aaron Johnston

OK, for those dying to know, the song is called “Bruises” by a band from Brooklyn called Chairlift.

And now let me explain why Chairlift is likely the happiest band in the music industry right now.

Aspiring musicians used to dream about getting their songs on the radio, making the big break, so to speak. Get out on the airwaves, and your career is all but guaranteed. If DJs got behind your songs (usually because of bribes from record companies — but that’s a discussion for another day), then radio listeners would get behind your song as well, and sells of your album would really take off.

Nowadays it seems like the best way to launch a music career is to license your song for a commercial, and more specifically for an iPod commercial. If the hipsters over at TBWA Chiat Day, the ad agency with the Apple account, like your new undiscovered song, you might be fortunate enough to have a bunch of silhouetted dancers movin’ and groovin’ to it on national television.

Is there anything cooler than these spots on TV right now? I don’t think so. And Apple has been running the campaign for four years or so. That, my friend, is an accomplishment. “Cool” is such a fleeting thing. Cool today. Uncool tomorrow. Or better said, uncool five minutes later.

And yet, after all these years and with little variation in the campaign, Apple has maintained its place at the top of the cool food chain. Partly because the product continues to reinvent itself and become slicker and smarter all the time. And partly because of good old fashion product advertising.

And why do the ads work so well?

Well, I can’t explain it other then to say that “they’re just cool, okay?” Spastic people performing back-breaking spins, splits, kicks, and twists is both inhuman and inhumanly cool. There’s no other way to describe it.

Recently however, the spots have taken a turn. Instead of dancing people, we have dancing iPods, so to speak. They float into (or are placed on) the screen, spinning and twisting and flying inward with the music. It’s beautiful and elegant and thanks to the infectious song by Chairlift, downright mesmerizing.

And that’s the simple genius behind Apple’s advertising strategy: when you’ve got a beautiful, amazing product, show your beautiful amazing product. You don’t need a pitchman. You don’t need smoke in mirrors or a talking monkey or any other advertising trick. You just allow the product to speak and wow for itself.

The bottom line: download this song. It has sweet, whimsical lyrics and a melody that sticks in your brain. Worth the 99 cents it cost to download it at iTunes? You betcha.

And that, dear reader, is why Chairlift is the happiest band in the business at present. The song’s popularity rating at iTunes is at its highest. Everyone and his brother is downloading this song. And an obscure band that wasn’t even on the music buyer’s radar is now beeping and blipping like a fast approaching aircraft.

World, meet Chairlift.

The newest Microsoft ad just launched, and the venerable Jerry Seinfeld is nowhere to be seen. Seinfeld’s absence comes as no surprise, however, as news agencies have been all aflutter recently, posting that Microsoft had “pulled” Seinfeld from their ad campaign.

Not so, says a Microsoft spokesperson, who called the allegations “preposterous.” Microsoft hasn’t “pulled” anything. This has been the plan all along. Seinfeld wasn’t the new face of the brand. He was merely one element in a much larger marketing initiative.

Whispers from Crispin Porter Bogusky, the Colorado based super agency that recently won the Microsoft account and produced the spots, confirms this. Seinfeld was never hired to be a spokesperson. He was hired to do a job, and he’s done it.

People have slammed the first two spots with Seinfeld suggesting that they prove how out of touch Microsoft truly is. Seinfeld is a man of the 90s, after all. What’s he doing in a commercial in 2008 for a company desperately trying to reinvent itself?

To that I say, you’re missing the point. What Crispin has done is brilliant. Not the spots themselves, per se, but the implementation of them. This campaign has garnered more media attention than any advertising initiative in recent history. News agencies and blogs (this one included) are all over this story. Hours of televised news coverage. Hundreds (I’m guessing) of articles online and in the printed press on whether or not the spots are effective.

And here’s why that’s a good thing: it’s all free advertising. Clients would love to be in the news this much, to incite debate like this.

But they’re criticizing the spots, you say.

Well, not all of them, I say. Some people actually like the spots. They’re weird, yes. But they’re also unexpected. Last year’s Vista launch was a real steamer. This campaign is something totally unique.

And I’d wager that most Americans still like Jerry Seinfeld. He still wears tight jeans and has a funny haircut, but who doesn’t like Jerry Seinfeld? Have we become that cynical? Have we become too hip for Seinfeld?

I say, show me a Jerry-Seinfeld hater, and I’ll show you a depressed, jaded American.

Here’s the bottom line. Microsoft is suddenly in the news again. The spots may not be the funniest thing going on in the industry, but they are funny to some extent. They’re doing more help than harm.

After all, Bill Gates has long been perceived as a stiff, bizarre little fellow. Now, at least, he’s a stiff, bizarre little fellow who doesn’t mind taking a few potshots at himself.

And considering how large and corporate a company like Microsoft is, getting work like this produced is nothing shy of monumental. I know from experience. Selling fresh, distinctive work is hard. Clients don’t like risk. Risk is bad. Risk is dangerous. And this work is incredibly risky. Bravo to Microsoft for having the courage to go with it.

Which bring us finally to spot number three, the one without Seinfeld. Here Microsoft addresses the ad campaign that’s been kicking their trash for the past two years: the Apple/PC campaign, which in my opinion is some of the greatest advertising ever created. High praise, yes, but in my mind it ranks right up there with Wendy’s “Where’s the Beef?”. Timeless. Hilarious. Effective.
In the new spot, Microsoft addresses this campaign head on. It all begins with a guy dressed like PC from the Apple campaign, saying “Hello, I’m a PC, and I’ve been made into a stereotype.” Which is a nice way of saying, “Hello, I’m a PC and I’m a victim and I’ve been unfairly labeled by a big meany advertising company. I’ve sat by quietly for a while, allowing Steve Jobs to mock me openly and make me look like a tubby, naive ignoramus, but no more. It’s time the world knew the truth about PCs. We’re not as doltish as you suggest we are. We’re good at making spreadsheets, yes. But that’s not all we do, thank you very much. PCs still lead the market for a reason.”

I’m taking some creative license with the subtext, but you get my point.

Then we’re introduced to a myriad of people, all claiming to be PCs, and who use they PCs for good, important, even hip, endeavors. A fashion designer. A geneticist. A scuba diver. An astronaut. One PC even claims to blog for Obama. Ah ha! Take that, Apple!

It’s a simple idea, brilliantly executed. I even like the tagline: Windows, Life Without Walls.

Simple. Smart. And precisely the type of counterstrike advertising Microsoft so desperately needed.

Now, will this make Windows relevant again? Will generation Y or Z (or whatever generation we’re on these days) toss out there sleek Mac laptops and run to Best Buy for a PC? Not likely.

But the new spot does likely restore some of the confidence consumers have recently lost in the Microsoft brand.

But it’s more of a strategically smart move than a creative revolution. We’ve seen this type of execution before. There’s nothing especially breakthrough about it.

But it is the right thing to say; it makes sound strategic sense. It’s almost as if, after years of not touching the chess board and letting Mac slowly knock down a knight here and a rook there, Microsoft’s queen just took an agressive sweeping move across the board to suddenly get back in the game.

Check it out below.

I’m ashamed to admit that I’ve never read Jack London before. I know, shameful. He’s a man’s author if ever there was one. But I saw an unabridged version of Call of the Wild on CD at the library and decided to give it a try. The language is poetic without being pretentious. And if ever there was a book that actually made me consider getting a dog this is it. I found myself envying John Thorton, the Klondike man who earns Buck’s undying love and devotion.

What I love most about Wild is that it’s an adventure story through and through. A literary classic, yes. But an adventure story first and foremost. There’s peril at every turn as Buck, the stout St. Bernard/Collie mix, is kidnapped from his comfortable home at an estate in California and sold as a sled dog far north in the merciless Klondike. Buck must learn the law of “club and fang,” the harsh, savage code of the North in which the strong and vicious rule with brute force and bite.

Passed from owner to owner, Buck learns that there are good natured and evil men in the world. And that dogs too can be classified as such. One of the novel’s most thrilling moments is the stand-off between Buck and his rival dog Spitz.

But the story’s true heart emerges when Buck finds John Thorton. Theirs is the relationship that every dog-owner longs for. And when Buck is called upon to pull the 1,000 pound sled to win John Thorton a bet, I felt like cheering as much as the witnesses in the story.

Recently I picked up a collection of Jack London short stories at the used book sale. And now I’m very glad that I did.

Most everyone who intends to read this book probably already has by now; I’m a little late to the party. What can I say? Lauren had to read it first. Then again, since she read it in like 48 hours, I don’t have much of an excuse for taking so long to finish it, do I?

Hmm. I guess I’m just slow. Get over it.

The fourth and final book in Stephenie Meyer’s teenage vampire saga is the most controversial of the bunch, dividing her loyal fan base and earning a D rating from Entertainment Weekly. Considering how little weight I give to book and movie reviews at EW, the D thing doesn’t faze me, but the outrage from some of her fans did. I tried not to listen to all the complains since I hadn’t read the book at the time and didn’t want to taint my experience by knowing beforehand what fanned everyone’s fire, but simply knowing that people were displeased made me a little skeptical.

So if you haven’t read the book and want to avoid spoilers, stop reading now. OK, you’ve been warned.

In my opinion, which only holds any value with my mother and wife, Breaking Dawn is an excellent and appropriate conclusion to a wonderful series. The Jacob-imprinting-on-the-baby thing didn’t bother me. As one fellow reader pointed out to me: Jacob imprinting was inevitable. That mythology had already been introduced. Meyer was merely living up to the rules she had already established. Besides, she prepared us for this beforehand. One of the other werewolves . . . excuse me, shape shifters, had already imprinted on a toddler. Meyer is no dummy. She prepared us all well.

And Bella gaining and learning vampire powers. Awesome. Her shield ability. Awesome. Stumping the Volturi in the field. Awesome. My only complaint was that the Volturi didn’t get a major butt kicking. Four hundreds of pages they prepare and talk about an impending fight and then the fight never happens? Say what?

But these are small petty things. Overall it was wonderfully enjoyable. Thank you, Mrs. Meyer. Please don’t let this be your last.

A few months ago I read The Book Thief by Markus Zusak, which recently was a Michael L. Printz Honor Book, an awrd for excellence in young adult literature. The book was first published for an adult audience in Australia where Zusak lives, but ever since Harry Potter, best seller lists like those at the New York Times classify any book that stars a child as its protagonist as a “Children’s Book.” Never mind that the book is over 500 pages long and full of heavy, mature themes like war and death and the Holocaust. Oh no, says the New York Times. If the story is about a child, it must be FOR children.

I just shake my head. Dumb dumb dumb.

An author friend of mine explained to me why books are classified this way and Harry Potter is indeed to blame. When those books were released, they so shattered the sales numbers of other books and remained on bestseller lists for so long that publishers began to complain: How can we market OUR books as bestsellers if seven of the places on bestseller lists are taken by this blasted Harry Potter fellow?

And so The New York Times conceded and put “children’s” books like Harry Potter into a category all their own. Poppycock! Adults read these books probably even more than children do.

But alas, this isn’t a blog entry on the unfair treatment YA books receive, nor even an entry about The Book Thief, which I must say is a disarmingly beautiful and tragically wonderful story. If you can stomach a book narrated by Death about a young German girl and her family’s struggle through war-torn, whacked-out Germany, than this, my good friend, is the book for you. Read it. But be warned. It’s sad. You’ll cry and stuff. And yet it will lift your spirits and remind you how precious and glorious life really is.

Which brings me to I Am The Messenger, my second Zusak book, which I just finished listening to on audiobook. Like The Book Thief, Messenger leaves you breathless and moved. It too was honored by the Michael L. Printz Award, but only received an honoree recognition, not the actual prize, though I can’t fathom how any book could have beat it. It’s quite possibly the most beautiful story I’ve ever read. Seriously. I’m not throwing this praise casually, people. Mr. Zusak has a gift. Read this book. It will leave you befuddled at times, wondering what in tarnation is going on, but it never frustrates. It moves well, casually at times, but never at a leisurely stroll. And when the hero acts and delivers his message, Zusak holds you so tight, you can’t put it aside. Usually I only listen to audiobooks when I drive, but I so caught up in messenger, I often found myself sitting in the living room with my iPod earbuds in, dyiing to know what happens next.

It’s a simple story. Ed Kennedy, a nineteen-year-old good-for-nothing cab driver, is wasting his life away. He didn’t go to university like his brother and has about as much ambition as his old, lazy, foul-smelling dog, The Doorman. When Ed thwarts a bank robbery one day and becomes a local hero, a playing card appears in his mailbox: an ace with three addresses written on it. Somehow, Ed realizes that at these three addresses people need his help. He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to help them or even who exactly he’s supposed to help, but he sets off nonetheless.

Sounds silly, right? Maybe like a pilot idea for a new series this fall on ABC.

Trust me. It’s more than that. If Messenger doesn’t move you, your heart has stopped beating. This is the kind of book that will motivate you to be a better person. As corny and cliche as that may sound, that’s what Messenger will do: make you believe in yourself.

I know I always gush and applaud every book I read, but it’s not because I’m pleased by anything that comes along; it’s because I only start books that I know are going to be good. And Airborn is no exception. I started this one as a full-cast audiobook, but I got so wrapped up in the story, so engrossed in the action, that I had to discard the audiobook and pick up the actual book. The actors just weren’t going fast enough for me. I was desperate to find out what happened next.

Much like Pullman’s Dark Materials Trilogy, Airborn is set in an alternate universe. There are cities we have heard of (Sydney, Paris) and cities that are new to us (Lionsgate City). But most amazing of all in this parallel universe is that airplanes were never invented. And so air travel is restricted to airships, giant balloon-like vessels not unlike the infamous Hindenburg. But instead of being filled with volatile hydrogen, airships in Airborn are filled with a new gas, unique to this universe: hydrium.

The hero of the story is young Matt Cruse, a cabin boy aboard the luxury passenger airship the Aurora. While on watch one night up in the crow’s nest, Matt spots a drifting balloon that won’t respond to radio calls. After a daring rescue, an old man is found on the balloon, hurt and only barely alive. Before dying, the old man speaks of beautiful creatures flying through the sky, and Matt assumes the man is delirious.

But when a young wealthy girl arrives on the Aurora a year later with her chaperon, Matt learns that the girl and the old man are connected, and that the old man may not have been delirious after all.

What follows is in a non-stop action adventure that feels like a modern-day Treasure Island. Winner of the Michael I. Printz Award for Excellence in Young Adult Fiction, Airborn is one story every reader will love.