Black Sabbath and the wrong reaction to disapproval


Santiago built the world’s loudest stereo.

It wasn’t just a loud stereo, though. It was also the stereo with the roundest tones, the most powerful heart-pounding bass, the most tear-inducing clarity on the high notes. This was a stereo to make the gods weep.

Santiago strode out to share his gift with the world. His heart was trip-hammering with excitement, anticipating the joy and appreciation of passersby as he serenaded them with selections from his favourite heavy metal band, Black Sabbath. They would throw bouquets, buy him a hot dog, get their names tattoo’ed across their ankle. Who wouldn’t want to hear War Pigs shaking the concrete with absolutely perfect clarity and menace?

Ah, Santiago, we all know this won’t go well.

The group waiting at the bus stop were profoundly unimpressed by the strains of Sabbath Bloody Sabbath.

One man in a suit actually walked down the road to the next bus stop to get away.

Santiago was perplexed and hurt. Maybe it was a bit too loud? His mother had always told him that she didn’t like the way the bass shook the walls. So Santiago turned down the bass, losing the counterpoint of Paranoid. It sounded awful without the bass riff.

Perhaps knocking down the treble would help? Now the guitar solo was a muddy warble instead of a clear slicing, but the people weren’t looking as upset by the music.

Encouraged – there must be a way to make these people enjoy Sabbath, of course there must – Santiago played around with the settings. Eventually, all that came out of Santiago’s beautiful stereo was a low muttering. It didn’t sound like anything, let alone Black Sabbath.

This is not the end of the story. (Although often it is.)

Close to tears and feeling a great void inside, Santiago went to the town centre and said, “To hell with it.”

Every setting was cranked to its most glorious maximum, and Santiago ecstatically played air guitar as the stereo pumped music into the world.

Then a teenage girl with four piercings and a System of a Down t-shirt walked up and said, “Hey, isn’t that Snowblind?”

Santiago nodded so hard his head nearly came off. “Yes, how’d you know?”

“Oh, System of a Down covered this song. I have everything they’ve ever done.”

“Do you know Black Sabbath?”

“No. Is their stuff good?”

And it was.

Very few people like your best work.

(Or Black Sabbath.)

Every time you try to adapt, tone it down, make it palatable to most people… you get more and more boring.

The majority still don’t like your work, and the glorious few can’t connect with it. (If the industrial metal girl had heard the stereo with all the settings on low, would she have recognised it?)

Can you afford not to turn all your dials to eleven?

Are you ready to deliver your absolute best work and looking for help figuring out what it is? Goddamn Radiant is your dependable roadie, ready to hand you the bass guitar of destiny. Rock it out TODAY.

Creative Commons License photo credit: Marcus Vegas

If you’re sick of marketing…


Parveen decided to create a one-woman show.

On Parveen’s first day, she blurted her lines like a nervous eight-year-old in the school play.

On Parveen’s fifth day, she was more practiced and the words started to flow.

On Parveen’s eleventh day, she realised that she should be wearing an outfit that matched the theme.

On Parveen’s fourteenth day, she started adding gestures to her words.

On Parveen’s twentieth day, she added some lights so people could see her.

On Parveen’s twenty-fifth day, she assembled some chairs so people would stay in comfort.

On Parveen’s thirty-first day, she put out a sign in the street.

On Parveen’s thirty-ninth day, she brought in a couple of props.

On Parveen’s fortieth day, she revised her lines.

On Parveen’s forty-first day, she called a local newspaper about her show.

On Parveen’s forty-third day, she added a sign to the jar that said “Support Local Art”.

On Parveen’s forty-eighth day…

All of these tasks are marketing.

Marketing is communication, and communication is largely non-verbal.

Your colour scheme is a marketing decision.

So is how you package your services.

And how you deliver your work.

The tone of your emails.

What you decide to sell (and not to sell) is marketing.

So if you’re sick of marketing, of talking about what you do…

Stop talking and start doing.

Let the work speak for itself.

This does mean you’ll have to produce something worth talking about

Ready to start taking action about your business and building something worth talking about? DIY Magnificence is here to help you rock it out.

Creative Commons License photo credit: M Glasgow

Pepsi marketing and the performance coach

UW Madison 4x100 Anchor

Steve is a performance coach. So of course before he left his employers to set up his own business he prepared diligently.

One of his preparations was to find the most successful businesses to model his marketing on. He studied the Top Ten performers in the Fortune 500 (why aim lower?) and easily came to the conclusion, “I need to be seen by as many people as possible.”

Accordingly, he had a thousand posters printed that said Steve Gibson: Performance Coach and pasted them up in all the highest-traffic areas of town. He bought radio ads and made plans for TV when the budget improved. He spent his free $75 Adwords voucher and another $300.

His total new clients? Two.

*sad trombone*

So THAT didn’t work.

Steve, always adaptable, tried a new tactic.

A number of clients had followed Steve over from his employers to the new business, and he asked if he could interview them. He asked, “What do you like most about our work together?” and “Why would you recommend me to others?”

“I love the way you discuss the mechanics of what I’m doing and the underlying science of it!” said one. “I love understanding the process, not just improving it.”

“You don’t patronise me and you always explain.”

“I feel like I’m part of the work, and it’s not just happening to me.”

Steve put this all together and then asked one follow-up question to his clients: “So you really enjoy the way I demystify the work and put you in charge of it?”

The response was an overwhelming YES. (And one, “Also, you’re cute.”)

Steve thought about this for a long time. The number of people who decide they want a performance coach AND enjoy taking most of the responsibility for their work is… small. Of the ten thousand people passing his posters maybe a hundred would fit that profile. (Maybe less!)

Steve thought ruefully, “And all hundred of them are probably jogging past with their iPod on and not looking at the posters anyway.”

So what now, Steve?

One of Steve’s mantras: When conditions are adverse, change the playing field.

Steve got some shirts printed that said, “You know you can do better.” on the front and “Steve: your secret super-power” on the back. He started wearing them to chess tournaments, triathalons and competitive sports of all kinds.

Those shirts started up some interesting conversations. They also led to ten new clients in the first month.

High five, Steve!

Steve isn’t Pepsi. And neither are you.

Pepsi is in dire straits if only 100,000 people buy their product, so Pepsi wants to be in the mind of the entire world. To achieve this goal they use mass-broadcast multimedia advertising: it’s expensive, wasteful, and not very effective. (It only works at all because the numbers are so large.)

We know this, but we don’t always know the alternatives. Steve is an adaptable and creative guy and was able to think up a clever way to redefine his audience and how to reach them.

He’s rare: you and I both know business owners that have refused to change what isn’t working, and watched their businesses go slowly bankrupt.

But you can do something Pepsi can’t.

Pepsi (and every other mega-brand) needs so many customers to stay afloat that they have to be generic and impersonal. (They do use targeted branding, but “geeky students” is still a very large group.)

Big companies find it almost impossible to do one magnificently effective thing that you can do easily: making their customers feel special.

If like Steve you say, “I’m only looking for clients who want to understand the process, and take responsibility for their own growth”, how appreciated and delighted and welcomed will your clients feel if they’re one of those people?

Everyone wants to be celebrated for who they are. If you can provide that experience, your clients will praise you to the skies and love everything you offer them.

This would not have worked if Steve hadn’t gotten very specific about who he wanted to attract. No-one feels particularly excited about being part of a huge group. (Which is why demographics suck.) You have to make your definition of Bestest People tight enough that it feels meaningful to the people who are in it.

If you’re thinking, “That sounds great. But how do I DO it?” Goddamn Radiant is here to help. In just three hours, you will be able to describe who your Bestest People are, where they hang out, and so much more. Stop trying to act like Pepsi, and start acting like the most effective version of yourself.

Creative Commons License photo credit: Mark Sadowski

The fabric shop, and our biggest marketing mistake


Kim had a passion for textiles: colour, thread count, texture and fibres… they were her loves. And so she opened a business to sell fabric. Not just any fabric, but the best. Italian cottons, French linen, costume brocade and William Morris prints… a gorgeous effuserie of touchable hues.

On the very first day, Kim’s heart was full of dreams of freedom and potential. Through a rising choir, her heart announced that her fabric shop was going to be magnificent.

Her head, however, was thinking, “MUST MAKE CASH BY FRIDAY.”

Every time she made a decision, her heart and head started a vicious tug-of-war. Her heart cried, “We want to be bold, to be transcendent, to create, to be whimsical! We want to do the work that no-one else can do!” Her head muttered, “Look, can we make enough to pay the rent first? I’m on board once we take care of the essentials.”

To keep her head happy, Kim made some compromises. She advertised in wholesale magazines and made a big sale to a Taiwanese import group who clearly didn’t care about the fabric but knew they could get a good price for it. She made special offers to schools and sold bolts of cloth to students who “had” to sew a pair of shorts and planned to throw them out after.

The fabric shop was making decent money, but Kim’s soul was dying. After head and heart fought a vicious 3am guerilla war across her pillow for the sixth night running, Kim’s heart won.

The sign went up the next morning.


Kim started demanding that her customers explain why this fabric appealed to them and was a better choice than any of the others.

A number of interior decorators were banned from the shop forever, and a few others were given special invitations to locked-door previews of the next season’s prints.

Orders started flooding in from designers in four different countries (Kim could speak passion in any language), and one noted Hollywood costume designer flew out just to browse her jacquards.

Kim’s business was finally magnificent.

The mistake we all make

Kim knew who her Bestest People were, but she didn’t market to them.

She ignored the people who could actually appreciate her work, in order to grab the attention of people who didn’t care. And because they didn’t care, she had to push and force and discount and make her work a thousand times less glorious to make it acceptable.

When said like this, it’s a ridiculous mistake to make. Why would you chase the disinterested instead of proudly displaying your goods – your greats – to the oh-so-interested?

Because we see our empty shop or website and we think ohshitohshitohshit. (Nature’s got nothing on us when it comes to abhoring that vacuum.) We’re so desperate to fill that empty space that we grab wildly at whoever’s walking past.

The dude who just happens to be wandering by probably doesn’t give a damn about what you have to offer. Crap! Well, we can’t lose him, so… let’s make some changes. He doesn’t like it to be spicy? VoilĂ ! It’s less spicy. He doesn’t think it’s worth it at that price? Price dropped!

All of a sudden you have a business and marketing plan designed to attract someone who is never really going to value what you have to offer.

That’s fucking crazy.

The new plan

  1. Figure out who would love the hell out of what you do, with no cajoling.
  2. Market to them. Lovingly ignore everyone else.
  3. Make a lot of money, and love it.

Goddamn Radiant is here to help. In three hours, you and I will kick everyone out of the shop that doesn’t deserve the magnificence we both know you can deliver. Because you and your offerings deserve no less.

Creative Commons License photo credit: cuttlefish