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~ The art of story in life, business and business life.

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Tag Archives: Truth

Trauriger geht nimmer. Aber die Liebe, die geht immer. Eine Rezension.

24 Wednesday Aug 2016

Posted by herr dennehy in music, Poetry, StorycodeX, Storytelling

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Tags

Authenticity, Bayern, Bob Dylan, Guy Clark, Helmut Fischer, Munich, Roberto Blanko, Schwabing, Texas, Townes Van Zandt, Truth

Vorangestellt: Das hier ist kein Freundschaftsdienst.

IMG_2858

Da steht er und liest, in schwarz-weissem Gwand. Der Man in Red.

Aber von Anfang an: Da sitz ich neulich im Vereinsheim Schwabing, dem charmanten, urechtmuenchnerischen Vorhof zum Lustspielhaus – zum ersten Mal, letzeres eigentlich unverzeihlich. Schwabinger Schaumschlaeger also. Angemessen aufgeregt, wie das so ist, wenn da oben jemand auf der Buehne steht, der dir nicht nur von intensiver Werkrezeption (Endlich mal live erleben!) oder vom Bravo-Starschnitt her (Wie sieht der wohl in echt aus?) bekannt ist, sondern in der Tat aus dem leibhaftigen Leben der eigenen Schwabinger Vergangenheit und der nun bundeslanduebergreifenden Gegenwart. Dann liest er da oben aus seinem ersten richtigen Buch. Richtig, weil auf amazon bestellbar, mit ISBN-Nummer und so.

Daher der anfaengliche Freundschaftsdisclaimer. Denn auch wenn der Autor (und vielleicht sogar der Erzaehler) des Buchs, ueber das ich hier schreibe, und aus dem (im Nachhinein betrachtet) gut ausgewaehlte Stellen im Vereinsheim vorgetragen (OK, eher vorgelesen) wurden, ein guter alter Freund ist (alt im Sinne von schon lange, weil was ist schon alt heutzutage?), versichere ich hiermit eidesstattlich und standesgemaess, dass es im Anschluss an die Lesung und den Erwerb einer druckfrischen, freundschaftlich-liebevoll signierten Erstausgabe keine kartellrechtlich bedenklichen Absprachen gegeben hat, die Authentizitaet und Ehrlichkeit der folgenden Zeilen in Zweifel ziehen koennten.

13880250_639455472875376_1278693332723675438_n

Da wird hinter meinem Ruecken signiert.

 

Da ist was schiefgelaufen!

“Und wenn jemand mehr als fuenf Absaetze dieses Textes am Stueck liest, muss auch was schiefgelaufen sein”, heisst es da auf Seite 175 des unter anderem “Eine Kulturgeschichte der deutsch-texanischen Beziehungen” untertitelten Werks “Ich bin der neue Hilmar und trauriger als Townes” (am 1. August 2016 im hessischen weissbooks-Verlag erschienen). Mist, dann ist bei mir wohl was gruendlich schiefgelaufen, so rein gesundheitszustandsmaessig, denn nicht nur habe ich sogar mehrere Seiten, manchmal sogar mehrere Kapitel am Stueck, ich habe das Buch sogar zuende gelesen, in wenigen Tagen. Ziemlich schnell, nicht nur fuer meine normale Minus-Warp 5-Lesegeschwindigkeit. Vielleicht ging das auch so geschmeidig vonstatten, weil im Texas Italiens, sprich in bzw. auf Sizilien gelesen?

Nun also zum Buch.

Viel (OK, a bisserl) wurde bereits medial gemunkelt ueber die angebliche Identitaet des Menschen, der da erzaehlt … Martin Wimmer: Bueroleiter des Frankfurter Buergermeisters; Martin Mueller: BMN-Texter, Top-Manager diverser teils noch, teils nicht mehr existierender Unternehmen, reichlich Abgefundener; DJ Borderlord: Programmatischer Plattentellerkoenig in Suedstadt und Substanz; Willi Ehms: Muenchner Poet mit Hang zu boarisch-texanischen Songtexten. Wenn man selbst heute noch mit mahnendem Erstsemestergermanistikfingerzeig und einem “Der Autor ist nicht der Erzaehler” augenbrauenhebend medial punkten und ueberraschen kann, moechte ich mich damit gar nicht erst aufhalten. Been there, done that.

Ist auch herzlich unerheblich.

Ebenso unerheblich die Frage nach dem “Was ist das denn nu?”. Weil wenn nicht “Roman” vorne drauf steht, oder das Buch in der Spiegel Sachbuch-Bestsellerliste auffindbar, ist der geneigte Leser oftmals verwirrt, weiss nicht, welche Schublade er fuer seine Gedanken beim Lesen oeffnen soll. Autobiografie? Abhandlung? Vielleicht doch Fiktion irgendwie? Poesie? Essay? Letzteres legt der Erzeahler an der ein oder anderen Stelle selbst nahe, vielleicht aber auch nur, um in die Irre zu fuehren oder Schubladengelueste zu befriedigen? Vielleicht aber auch … egal.

Dann der Titel des Buchs: Fuer Feuilletonisten ein gefundes Fressen, fuer Martinfreunde eine gewohnt gelungene Mischung aus PR und Substanz. Viel wichtiger der Untertitel: “Eine Kulturgeschichte der deutsch-texanischen Beziehungen, eine politische Autobiographie, die Poetikvorlesung eines leidenschaftlichen Sprachspielers, abenteuerliche Rezensionsreise zu Songs, Filmen und Buechern, und vor allem ein Plaedoyer fuer ein wildes, freies Leben voller Liebe.” Da is mal ein Statement. Nur was fuer eins?

In jedem Fall ist das Werk mal eines: ein Buch. Sogar eines in der von mir bevorzugten Variante, mit Buchdeckel, Seiten aus Papier und so (“Papa, warum liest Du immer mit Bleistift???”), Titelseite, Klappentext (auf plattenisch: Linter Notes), und innendrin: ganz viele Worte.

Schlaue Worte, verspielte Worte, Wortspiele, selbstverant-wort-ete Spiele, Gedichte oder Songtexte (thin line!), Erinnnerungen (ob beschoenigt oder bewusst betraurigt, bleibt, der teilweisen Ignoranz gedankt, unkommentiert), Beobachtungen, politische Vermessungen der (eigenen) Welt, allem voran aber:

Beziehungsworte.

Denn wenn das Buch irgendwas ist, dann ein Beziehungsbuch. Anhand eigener und fremder Beziehungen, eigener Beziehungen mit Fremden, der Fremden Beziehungen untereinander, eigener Fremdbeziehungen und teils befremdender Eigenbeziehungen dieses unter dem aktuellen Sammelnamen Martin Wimmer subsummierten Erzaehlautoren, des traurig-neuen Hilmar-Townes, werden viel groessere Semmeln gebacken, Steaks gewendet, Eier gekrault. Da geht es um:

Die Beziehung des Texaners an sich zum Deutschen, vor allem zum deutschen Outlaw, dem Bayern: “Strauss und Reagan, Bush und Stoiber, […], Muenchen und Austin, […], Spider Murphy Gang und Texas Tornados, […], Cactus Café und Substanz, […], Kerrville Folk Festival und Tollwood, Musikantenstadl und Austin City Limits, Liesl Karlstadt und Janis Joplin, […], Larry Hagmann und Helmut Fischer […]. Mehr Zwiefache ueber Bayern und Texas als je zuvor in der Geschichte.”

Die Beziehung zwischen Country-Musik und den Folkloren oder Kunstbewegungen im Rest of World (denn was fuer den Bayern die Weisswurschtgrenze, ist fuer den Texaner der Cordon um Austin, San Antonio und Luckenbach): “‘I began to see a connection between country music and Dada.’ Das ist mein Mann.”

Die Beziehung der Songtexte eines Townes van Zandt, eines Jerry Jeff Walker, eines Steve Earle, eines Woody Guthrie, eines Bob Dylan zu denen eines Wolfgang Ambros, eines Markus Rill, eines Ostbahn Kurti, eines Helge Schneider, sogar eines Roberto Blanko, einer Mary Roos. Und vieler mehr, denn dem self-fulfilling, self-pleasing, self-impressing Namedropping vermoegen selbst die Wort-, Satz-, Seiten- und Kapitelenden keine Grenzen zu setzen in diesem … Dings: “Alles ist Perspektive., Auswahl, Zusammenhang. […]. ‘Es haengt alles irgendwo zusammen. Sie koennen sich am Hintern ein Haar ausreissen, dann traent das Auge.’”

Die Beziehung dieser Texte und Singer und Songwriter zu und in Filmen, zu und in Buechern, zum und im Leben, und ueberhaupt: Ist das Leben nicht ein einziger Text?: “Mein Leben, dieser Text.”

Die Beziehung zwischen politischen Richtungen und Programmen, quasi Ortsbesimmung und Wegbeschreibung, und ist nicht ueberhaupt alles nichts ohne Kultur?: “Wer sagt und tut, was er soll oder muss, ist Spiesser, rechts, boese. Wer sagt und tut, was er kann oder will, ist Rebell, links, gut.”

It ain’t me, babe.

Mal auf, stets aber zwischen den Zeilen, geht es jedoch vor allem um die Beziehungen der Autoerzaehlers (klingt irgendwie autoerotisch…). Die Beziehung des Bayern Martin zu Texas, den USA, und vielen anderen geheimnisvollen Orten dieses Planeten, wie Muehldorf, Ampfing, Madrid, Frankfurt, und natuerlich Schwabing. Die Beziehung des Texters und Songwriters Willi Ehms (ohne Singer, weil weniger Performer als Reformer) zu all dem und den oben Erwaehnten. Die Beziehung des oft gescheiterten und doch mittlerweile angekommenen Womanizers Mueller zu einer schier unzaehlbaren Menge an willigen, an enzyklopaedischen Lippen haengenden Frauen (ich erinnere mich nur zu gut an Frustrationsmomente im Schwabinger WG-Zimmer neben der Muellermartinbibliothek, Ladys ohne Ende am Boden vor dem Vinylaltar und seinem Hohepriester … Shit, und ich hoer Musik nur, weil sie mir gefaellt, wie banal. And he’s gonna score again!): “Ich habe in meinem Leben mit so dreissig Frauen geschlafen, vielleicht ein Dutzend mehr, und dann habe ich waehrend meiner Ehe noch mal ein halbes Dutzend nachgeschoben, darunter vor allem die besten Freundinnen meiner Frau.” Koennte man so stehen lassen, ware aber unfair, denn danach kommt noch: “Nein, habe ich nicht aber was das fuer Songs geworden waeren, denen darf man schon mal kurz hinterhertrauern.”

Dieser Satz ein Satz, der die programmatische Staerke und gleichzeitige sublime Schwaeche dieses Buchs ausmacht. Denn es geht unterm Strich ja – allen kokettierenden und geschickt platzierten Gegenteilsbekundungen zum Trotz – um die Beziehung dieses Wimmer Martin zu sich selbst. Wegweisend hierfuer der Einstieg im zweiten Kapitel, nicht in Townes-, sondern eher in Dylan-Manier: “…und so heisse ich heute Wimmer Martin und weiss nicht, wer ich bin”, das ist wimmerisch fuer “I’m not there” oder “It ain’t me, babe”.

Mir ist das ja grundsympathisch, denn ich habe auch noch keine Ahnung, wer oder was ich werden will, wenn ich mal gross bin. Sympathisch und nostalgisch auch das viele mir persoenlich Bekannte, weil selbst miterlebt oder selbst viele Male erzeahlt bekommen. Lehrreich auf jeder Seite (“Liebes Kind, deswegen lese ich mit Bleistift, damit ich danach von vorne beginnen kann, und zwar mit Mr. Wikipedia und Lady Spotify an meiner Seite!”). Erfurchtsgebietend ob des auf diesen 282 Seiten zur Schau gestellten, vorhandenen wie recherchierten und somit danach vorhandenen Wissens (was mir ja bewusst war, nevertheless: WTF, man?!? Respect!). Aber auch erfurchtsgebietend ob dieser unglaublich vielen, nicht nur sterilisierten und aesthetisierten, niemals anaesthesierenden Saetze und Formulierungen, sondern vor allem vor der Schoenheit vieler in Worte gekleideter Gedanken und Gefuehle.

Ueber modernen Musikkonsum: “Die Musiksammlung der Welt ist jetzt grenzenlos geworden, nur muss jetzt nicht mehr der Geldbeutel mitwachsen, sondern die Neugier, und man braucht keine Regalflaeche im Wohnzimmer mehr zum Stapeln des Nichtmehrgehoerten, sondern Erlebnisflaeche im Herzen zum Geniessen des Ebenerlebten.”

Ueber die Liebe: “Alle paar Jahre kommt die Liebe vorbei, aber wennst nicht dauernd nachtelefonierst, wird halt auch nix draus.”

Ueber das Leben: “In den Geschichten meiner Grosseltern war die Kunst immer: zu ueberleben. […] In den Geschichten meiner Eltern ging es dann schon darum: besser zu leben.” Oder: “Dokumentationen des Scheiterns sind immer bessere Filme als Sommermaerchen des Gelingens.” Oder einfach: “Lieste was, lernste was.”

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Zusammenfassend und in diesem Sinne (denn sonst ginge das hier noch ewig weiter, andererseits: who gives a fuck, it’s my blog!):

Kaufen und vor allem: Lesen!

Vielleicht nicht in einem durch wie ich (denn zwischendurch mal ins Mittelmeer huepfen koennen tat schon gut). Vielleicht nicht mit der gleichen Begeisterung an den gleichen Stellen (denn Selbstverliebheit und verbale Autoerotik Haas’scher Schule sind moeglicherweise doch nicht (w)immer Jedermanns Ding), aber dann sicher an anderen Stellen (denn jeder Mensch, der wissen moechte, was die Welt im Innersten zusammenhaelt – naemlich Sprache, Musik, Kultur, und wilde, freie Liebe – findet hier gewiss sein Saatkorn).

Schliessen wir mit den Worten des “Man in Red”, der doch meist eher schwarz-weiss traegt und vielleicht, wie sein grosses Vorbild Townes, ein Traurigliedmacher und Traurigliedlieber ist, maximal ein Melancholieliebhaber, niemals aber trauriger als Townes (kann ich bestaetigen, liest sich auch nicht so, und somit vermutlich auch nicht der neue Hilmar?):

“Wenn irgendjemand diese Welt rettet, dann junge Frauen. Und texanische Songwriter. Der Humor. Die Musik. Die Liebe.”

Ueber die texanischen Songwriter kann man natuerlich selbst als Minimal-Insider trefflich streiten (wie ueber vieles in diesem Beziehungsbuch – Achtung: beabsichtigt!). Andererseits hier einer der Zufaelle im Leben, die es nicht gibt: Da reise ich als Bayer (OK, Franke) und Muenchner (OK, Zugroaster), bewaffnet mit diesem Texas-Bayern-Fuehrer und einem Rock ‘n’ Roll-Shirt am Leib, als Cumpare, Cugnato, Marito und Pabaa in dieses italienische Texas, und was lese ich da im Editorial der Juli-Ausgabe der “Heritage Post”?

“Der Bayer ist der Cowboy von Deutschland. […] Stur und eigen wie ein Cowboy – im wilden Sueden Deutschlands.”

Aber interessant.

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Geschichten als Gestaltungsräume für moderne Marken.

20 Saturday Feb 2016

Posted by herr dennehy in Business Story, experiences, StorycodeX, Storytelling, Storytrain, What is STORY?

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

advertising, authentic, brand journalism, brand storytelling, business storytelling, change, Content Marketing, conversations, corporate storytelling, DACS, digital storytelling, expectation, hero, Human, Marketing, social media, story, Storytelling, surprise, Truth, Werbung

Vor gut eineinhalb Jahren hatte ich Freude und Ehre, im Rahmen der Vortragsreihe “DACS Show and Share” der Münchner Architekten Dina Andersen und Christian Schmid zu sprechen.

Es war ein heißer Juliabend, der erste heiße Abend nach vielen Wochen ungewöhnlicher Kälte und Regen im Juli. Das war cool. Einerseits, denn die die Atmosphäre im Hinterhof der Türkenstraße 21 in Münchens Studentenviertel war an diesem Abend mediterran, einladend ausladend, ausgelassen gelassen, geschichtenträchtig. Andererseits hingegen, was macht man an so einem heißen Sommerabend in Minga, gerade nach einer gefühlten Eiszeit? Genau: Biergarten. Dem geschuldet (so nahmen wir selbstsicher an) kamen statt der angemeldeten 80 Gäste gerade mal 35…

Enttäuschung? Nur im ersten Moment. Denn die, die kamen, wollten’s wirklich. Setzten erfreuliche Prioritäten, nahmen kurze wie längere Wege auf sich, um beim Vortrag “Geschichten als Gestaltungsräume für moderne Marken” über das immerheiße, immergrüne Geschichtenerzählen (neudeutsch: Storytelling), Bedeutung und Chancen für Imagebildung, Imageschärfung, Dialogfähigkeit und Geschäftsunterstützung moderner Marken (erfolglos) der Hitze zu entfliehen. Verschmähten Hoibe und Brezn, tauschten sie gegen Flaschenbier und Hirnschmalz, eingerahmt von Bob Dylan, Tracy Chapman, Mr. Jones und Guy Clark. Ein Traum von Sommer in der Stadt.

Screen Shot 2016-02-20 at 23.23.58.png

Warum denke ich gerade jetzt an diesen Abend zurück? Sicher, weil’s draußen grad mal wieder eklig regnerisch windet und in schwachen Minuten gar schneit. Aber auch, weil mir folgendes Video, das im Vorfeld dieses Vortrags entstanden ist, zwar nicht in die Hände, aber doch virtuell zufällig vor die Augen fiel, als es schüchtern aus seiner Verbannung hinter den Gittern von Vimeo heraus lugte.

Alles noch so wahr wie damals, so wahr wie gestern und vorgestern, so wahr wie heute und morgen, so wahr ich dort stand):


<p><a href=”https://vimeo.com/99722916″>DACS_Storytelling_Tobias_Dennehy</a&gt; from <a href=”https://vimeo.com/user6666630″>Christian Schmid</a> on <a href=”https://vimeo.com”>Vimeo</a&gt;.</p>

 

Und wen’s interessiert, so fand’s die tapfere Teilnehmerin Susanne Kleiner:

“Starke Marken erzählen starke Geschichten”

 

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The thin line between Mekka and Babylon: #refugeeswelcome … but for how long?

05 Monday Oct 2015

Posted by herr dennehy in experiences, hiSTORY, StorycodeX

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#refugeeswelcome, Babylon, change, drama, expectation, First World War, germany, history, learning from hiSTORY, listening, Mekka, Paradise Lost, Pegida, refugees, Second World War, Storytelling, Thilo Sarrazin, true story, Truth, Willkommenskultur

 

(Photo: Raul Rognean, 2010 Wien – “Turmbau zu Babel” – Pieter Bruegel dem Älteren, Öl auf Eichenholz, 114 cm × 155 cm – Kunsthistorisches Museum Wien)

(Photo: Raul Rognean, 2010 Wien – “Turmbau zu Babel” – Pieter Bruegel dem Älteren, Öl auf Eichenholz, 114 cm × 155 cm – Kunsthistorisches Museum Wien)

In Germany, there is a new dictum, word-of-the-year-to-be: “Willkommenskultur”. It refers to the way that (in a historically remarkable dimension) “the Germans” (whoever that is), have reacted to the (not surprising, but surprisingly massive) influx of refugees to their country, from places less fortunate than their own. These Germans have welcomed and continue to welcome them with open arms, open minds, open hearts. Germany, the new paradise, a refuge where people understand, listen, help, help, help. Wherever they can, whenever they can, however they can – even at their own expense, pecuniarily, temporally, emotionally. Germany, the eye of the world’s storm for so many battered, shattered and scattered men, woman and children. A place where all is calm, all is bright. A Western Mekka with an angel(a)ic halo.

But, unfortunately, Mekka is not that far away from Babylon, never was. It’s a thin line between the land of milk and honey, where all is understanding, same language, same beliefs, same values, and the place where nothing is understood, where languages are world’s apart, beliefs and values just as much. Where a lingua universalis does not exist, where decent English is merely the fragile foundation of Babel’s Tower, rudimentary knowledge of German vocabulary and grammar nothing but an inevitable beginning, yet never a remedy. Language alone cannot bridge gaps, refute misconceptions, overcome prejudices. Misunderstandings generally go deeper.

Paradise Lost?

Indications of the gauzy fragility of our newly discovered Willkommenskultur are omnipresent for dialecticians, and I fear the tipping point is soon to come…

Scene #1: Sitting at McD’s a couple of days ago, I overheard a discussion between an elderly couple, cracker-barrel philosophising about the refugee crisis. Sentences like “Die sind doch selber schuld, wenn sie aus ihren Ländern fliehen!” and “Wir sollten die alle wieder zurückschicken” fell amidst fat big mac munchs, nutritious cornerstones American foreigners had brought decades ago, those foreigners that helped put an end to this couple’s own fellow countrymen’s flights.

Scene #2: For the first time in months, anti-islamic, right-wing Pegida movement has managed to active 8.000 supporters for its recent rally, its Facebook presence states an increase of almost 4.000 page likes since September 20, with 62.341 talking abouts. Just highlighting one random comment makes you shomit (shiver and vomit): “Wir sind nicht alle Asylantenfreudlich.Viele,sehr viele Deutsche wollen das Pack hier nicht haben und stehen hinter jedem, der sich gegen die Parasiten wehrt.” Willkommenskultur? Hmmm. The only consoling thing: the ignorant female writing this comment only has 39 friends herself, serves her right. Still: She is not alone, and the engagement rate on Pegida’s Facebook page is alarming, amazing, and incredibly credible to those prone to reactionary German protectionism.

Scene #3: A zeit.de interview with Thilo Sarrazin, German politician and writer, clear-cut enfant terrible who in 2010 published a controversial book called “Die Deutschen schaffen sich ab”. He’s back in town, in search of scandalous limelight, provoking with statements like “Wir müssen unsere eigene Bevölkerung und unser Gesellschaftsmodell vor äußerer Bedrohung schützen. Dazu gehört auch ungeregelte, kulturfremde Einwanderung im Übermaß.” or “Die allermeisten trauen sich vermutlich gar nicht mehr, ihre Ängste und Meinungen offen auszusprechen. Ich kann nur eines sagen: Es gibt eine ganz große unterdrückte Wut und einen ganz großen Frust, der sich keineswegs auf Sachsen beschränkt.” (in: zeit.de from September 13).

Sounds detestable, refusal is the natural reflex.

But: What if he’s right, even if just a little bit? What if the infamous election slogan of Bavaria’s CSU from decades ago “Das Boot ist voll!” may indeed be nothing but the truth very soon? After all, the recent influx of refugees seeking for asylum (however justified or not every individual plea may be) is not even comparable (not in size, not in drama) to the imaginative storm clouds of otherness that were apparently dooming over last century’s Wohlstandsdeutschland, its gardens in Grünwald and kindergardens in Bogenhausen. Now it is indeed a sheer oppressive mass of people, a veritable tsunami smashing its waves on our own front door. What if the first asylum seekers who get accepted begin their eager integration process, willing to become full, respecting and respected members of their new homeland, not only learn our language and customs, but also start applying for and even getting the jobs you or your friend wanted, get the crèche place you thought was reserved for your daughter? “Fachkräftemangel” is yet another IT-word of German society, and certainly many a qualified refugee will help fill this gap, but: “weil sich der einfache Mann nicht durch Ärzte und Ingenieure bedroht fühlt, sondern durch Menschen, die stark sind, Muskeln haben, einfache Tätigkeiten machen können und damit seinen Lohn senken oder ihn vielleicht ganz überflüssig machen” (from same interview with Sarrazin), tolerance and helpfulness might quickly turn into reluctant and coy doubt, which again might turn into open resentfulness, rejection, maybe even uproar and rebellion.

hiSTORY repeats itself with (more or less) instant karma

Might and maybe are dominating words here, and I’m not saying Sarrazin is right, not at all agreeing with most things he says and the way he uses societal developments for his own populist fame (and fortune), BUT: hiSTORY teaches us that people love to help other people as long as it doesn’t interfere with their own lives in a sustainably negative way. So: what, if…what, if…what if…???

During my summer holidays, when the first refugee streams were mere abstract news in digital feeds, so not that long ago, I read a remarkable and highly recommendable book called “Die zerissenen Jahre 1918-1938”. In words understandable to historical laymen like me, author Philipp Blom circumnavigates the macro perspective, historical dates, and hashed and re-hashed highlights that made us detest school history lessons. Blom rather makes use of impressive, very well-dosed storytelling that makes macro developments come to life in micro worlds, spans the perspectives from heroes all over the world, and accountably explains (not justifies) why the darkest chapter of the 20th century was practically inevitable. The book’s 500 pages make this pretty apparent. I read about the seemingly little things that made big things happen, about little misunderstandings that led to massive catastrophes, about manipulated, ill-informed and emotionally ignored people(s) that blew off steam in the face of the innocents and unprotected, but also about power-obsessed, fanatic men (men, NEVER women!) who brought so much pain onto their people that these had to flee their homes, Jews, Russians and Germans being just a few to be named.

And while I read these stories with awestruck incredulity, I frequently felt compelled to draw parallels to what is happening all around the world today, 100 years later: While Europe is certainly a better and safer place to be, so many countries are not: Syria. Afghanistan. Iran. Somalia. Russia, you name it, even China, if we’re honest.

One of the sentences concluding Blom’s hiSTORYcal book puts my thoughts into words:

Für diejenigen, die glauben, dass wir aus der Geschichte lernen können, ist diese Parallele zur Zwischenkriegsgeschichte alles andere als beruhigend. (bpb Edition, p. 507)

 

To be honest: Looking at the state of the world today, aware of the fragility of Europe’s  freedom, peace, and stability, and also of the thin line between Willkommenskultur and Pegida, aware of how quickly moods can change, I am not really beruhigt.

15-08-refugeeswelcome-800x533

 

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Wonder Why Your King Content Performs Like a Wicked Jester? The answer is simple …

06 Monday Apr 2015

Posted by herr dennehy in Business Story, experiences, Ideas, StorycodeX, Storytrain

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Tags

authentic, Boccaccio, brand journalism, brand storytelling, business storytelling, change, cluetrain manifesto, Co-creation, content, conversations, corporate storytelling, Dante, digital storytelling, Friedrich Schiller, Günter Grass, Gehalt, Heinirch Böll, Homer, Inhalt, Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Literature, narration, social media, Storytelling, surprise, Thomas Mann, Truth, Zufrieden

Ever since I made my first professional walking attempts in the digital world (20 years ago that must be #feelslikeyesterday), I heard this mantra everywhere in the pre-dotcom bubble euphoria of Cluetrain afficionados, would-be Internet prophets, and notorious panjandrums:

CONTENT IS KING! They all said.

Wicked Jester

I had been studying Storytelling for five years, long before I even knew it was Storytelling. Back then they called it literature. So it seemed a little odd to hear these Internet geeks regurgitating their royal mantra when I had just meticulously learnt about the history, structure and perennial powers of stories told by early-day classics like Homer, Cervantes, Dante or Boccaccio, classic classics like Goethe, Schiller or Lessing or modern classics like Grass, Mann or Böll. Admittedly, I was also getting carried away by this millennial the-end-of-business-as-usual atmosphere of imminent change. Felt somehow audacious to dust off the venerable Germanstik patina in favour of some fresh … ehem, content?

It was only many years later, after necessary detours through the fires of corporate Mordor, that I realized one ring, I mean thing: The business world was (sorry: IS!) overly attracted by the glare of technological possibilities and features, fanatically prone to wanna-be-first- and because-we-can-itis. And thereby narrowly and one-sidedly interpreting the word “content”, neglecting other, much more elementary facets – facets that become clearest in the three different German translations the word “content” offers.

Back in the late 90’s, corporate content creation had nothing to do with journalistic research or writing talent. Its creators literally were content “managers”, i.e. project managers for pieces of content that they 1:1 transferred from paper to HTML and pinned to the newly discovered digital blackboard called website. Period. Their job was simply about the most general interpretation of content: words and pictures on a screen, publishing material. The (most probable and wide-spread) German translation for this aspect of content would be:

INHALT.

Or: “Something that is to be expressed through some medium, as speech, writing, or any of various arts … something that is contained.” (dictionary.com)

But it this Inhalt automatically something meaningful? Something that goes deeper than letters strung together by punctuation marks? Something that links beyond the surface not to just another succession of trivialities and soulless pixels, but to true substance? Mostly not. This is where in recent years (in continental Europe) or maybe decades (in Anglo-American dominated countries) the bandwagon of storytelling has already been able to do a lot for the greater good of meaningful content. If understood well and deployed according to the storycodeX of Expectation, Surprise and Change. The (a lot less wide-spread and more rarely spotted) German translation for this aspect of content with substance would be:

GEHALT.

Or: “Significance or profundity; meaning” (dictionary.com)

But interesting: Gehalt also means “salary” in German. So maybe in the end all just about the dough, be the content meaningful or not. Surely, what did you think? Now let’s once and for all get past the naïve, childish, even insulting notion that any one corporation on this planet has a different purpose than making money. And the more they want you to believe that they’re sustainably trying to save the world, “do something good” on the side with CSR and foundations, a little like a Hollywood actress doing charity, the more they’re deceiving you.

The labyrinth of linguistics … Whatever. What I actually wanted to say was: Meaningful content with substance is a good thing. But is it enough? No. Not today anymore, that’s for sure. Inhalt and Gehalt were a great, successful and sufficient, but nevertheless rare combination in the pre social media age. When the third facet of “content” didn’t really matter. It was the age of broadcast after all, old-school Shannon-Weaver style.

Bad news: those days are over. Interactivity, ubiquitous commentaries, likes and forum discussions have changed the recipient side practically over night (in a historical sense of time).

People and the conglomerates they form called audiences (NOT users!) will no longer be satisfied with consuming content-turned-into-great-stories and commenting on it in a more or less intelligent and fruitful discussion with fellow audience members or members from other audience groups. They will first of all want to be able to dig deeper behind your story, deeper into the spider web, find proof for your story, get in contact with the heroes of your story, and maybe some day also with you. If they’re not disappointed on their journey.

But, even more substantial, they will want to become an active part of a company’s business story and stories, not as actors or heroes, but as co-authors. After all, they are the other half of the corporate truth, the devil on the corporate shoulder, internal versus external perception. Devils who might become angels when they turn into a renowned and emancipated member if a brand’s story creation team. Only then will they be what the third, most vital and rarest facet of German translation attempts hints at:

ZUFRIEDEN.

satisfactionOr: “Satisfied with what one is or has; not wanting more or anything else … Archaic: willing.” (dictionary.com)

Yep, content is also an adjective, not only a noun.

And the central question is: Who is it that you want to satisfy with your content? Yourself? Your bosses? Your bosses bosses? Or maybe, only very maybe … your customers? Your customers’ customers? Your audiences? Maybe even a targeted small portion of your audience? Certainly, your answer will be: Of course my customers! Of course my audiences! Plus the fact, now I have all these big and massive and powerful data, I now even know what my audience wants before it knows that it wants it! Ha! There you go, eat this!

I’m eating …

Only: Lies are hard to digest. And all the easier to unmask. As written in the world’s most successful example of purposeful storytelling: “Thou shalt not lie!”

Which brings me to the answer of above-asked headline question: As long as you betray yourself and thereby the people you are apparently creating your content for, there will be no sustainably successful content! Take all your pig data, winnow the refuse from the valuable gold nuggets, take an honest and disarraying look at them, shuffle your cards anew, do away with your organization’s and your management’s old shibboleths, dare, launch a pilot, let go, and see what happens.

There is an even older mantra from our economy’s service sector, way back from the days when storytelling was still literature, when relevant content didn’t need to be called king, when it in fact was a rarity due to its scarcity, not due to its abundance. Back then, the saying went:

Der Kunde ist König. The customer is the King.

Aha. So, so. Let’s try that for once, what do you say?

I can’t get no satisfaction, he says? All the better; let that be your stimulant.

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“The Deserted Park Bench Jacket”: Perspectives on a story with many plots …

14 Friday Nov 2014

Posted by herr dennehy in experiences, StorycodeX, Uncategorized, What is STORY?

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

authentic, Authenticity, drama, every-day stories, expectation, hero, imagination, listening, narration, plot, Storytelling, surprise. suspense, true story, Truth

Stories are everywhere around us. In every part and place of our lives.

Only: we are often much too busy to see them. Too blinkered by life’s challenges, the haste of getting from A to B, the illusion that life is a to-do list, and idleness evil.

Open senses are all it takes to escape this gridlock that makes so many of us unhappy; open eyes open up new perspectives.

Here’s a story (or rather a couple of possible plots) I literally stumbled upon while running in a close-by park – not away from anything, not towards anything, actually in circles, letting my thoughts do the same.

It’s the story of this deserted park bench jacket.

IMG_0263.JPG

*Disclaimer: I didn’t put it there for this post.;)

My circling mind started asking: How did it get there? Where does it comes from? Who and where is the man (was it a man, just because it’s a man’s jacket?) who left it there? And why did he do it?

Plot #1:
The jacket belonged to a homeless man. Lying there, taking a rest from life’s endless atrocities and perpetual failed hopes. Fell asleep in the first rays of warm sunlight surrounded by the colour of hope after yet another night in the rainy cold, looking for shelter, in vain. Hungry, thirsty, desperate, and so terribly tired, tired of life. When, after many hours of peaceful slumber, he was approached by strollers checking on him, he didn’t move. An ambulance was called, but arrived only to find out that the nameless man had passed away, covered by death’s cold hand in the late morning sun. Who was this man? What was his story? Which conflicts and pitfalls in his life brought him to this lonely park bench? And why was the jacket still there?

Plot #2.
The jacket belonged to a man in his mid-forties who had been sitting there, trying to collect his thoughts, agonizing over the best way (if there was one) to avert the imminent drama in his life. The U-turn it was about to take, inflicted only by his own stupidity of cheating on his wife. After all that they had been through, one single moment of vain joy now thwarted it all. Would he ever see her again, his son? After his confession and pleas for forgiveness, honest, but (to her) lame promises, she had thrown him out of their house. Marital silence ever since, he was sleeping at a friend’s place. Suddenly, on his walk through the park, mixing fresh air with chain smoke, his phone rang. It was her. Asking if they could meet. Right away. He jumped up in incredulous joy, already on his way while she was still on the phone, completely forgetting his jacket. A happy ending?

Plot #3:
The jacket belonged to a business man who had messed with the wrong people. Pushing his luck for the deal of his life with different parties, closing the bargain with the one side, pissing off the other, like real. And the other party was not the one to piss off. A thing he didn’t know, but was soon to find out on his daily walk in the park to work. The three thugs came out of nowhere, dashing from a blind spot … and then his world went black. Who was / is this man? Is he still alive? Does he have a family? What was the deal about, and what was really behind this ambush? And why did the jacket stay there while its owner has gone missing ever since?

Sounds like fiction? Sure it does, I just made it up. But .. only maybe. Do we know? Do we know ANYTHING about the world around us, our neighbours, every-day passers-by on our way to work?

Maybe the deserted bench jacket story was much more prosaic than this, maybe someone just accidentally left it there while taking his lunch break in the sunny park, fiddling around with his smart phone, then running off in a hurry to get back to work on time. Maybe just someone who didn’t want this shabby jacket anymore, too lazy to throw it into the used-clothes container?

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

There a story behind everything. And everyone’s story has its intriguing moments, twists and surprises. It’s just a question of taking a closer look, a question of perspective, of attitude.

And there is definitely some story up this jacket’s sleeve, behind its former owner for sure. Oh and: next morning the jacket was gone … Woohaah!

After all: Life is stranger than fiction.

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The Lopsided Love Story of Mister G. and Mister D., Part 3: The Mix Tape (that changed my life)

20 Saturday Sep 2014

Posted by herr dennehy in experiences, hiSTORY

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Tags

change, David Gray, drama, expectation, hero, history, Mix Tape, Sail Away, story, Storytelling, surprise, true story, Truth

 

Somewhere between getting lost in transmedia and celebrating AOL („Annual Offline Leave“ – you should try it, helps you understand what Lennon meant when he said that “life is what happens while you’re tweeting” … or something like that), I remembered that I wanted to relive the part of my life when a mix tape (o.k., it was a mix CD, but that sounds so … unromantic, so modern, although the round thing itself is already square) actually changed my life. And at the same time catapulted my relationship with Mister G. to another level of intensity.

It started, as it often does, at work. The place where you spend most of your time, and sometimes are lucky enough to meet interesting people with whom you want to be a little more than colleagues – well aware of the company’s ink saying, but what the heck.

That’s where I met her, over 10 years ago now. And, of course, I mean look at her: She already had a boyfriend. Grrrr. What to expect? So it was waiting mode for God knows how long, felt like decades, which sounds pretty “100 Years of Solitute”-like romantic, but was in fact a couple of months, to be honest. Still … an eternity.

Eventually, not in vain.

The tide was turning, the dark knight’s access to the princess’ castle finally denied, for whatever reason, what should I care? This was my “Over The Top” moment, the knight in white satin’s imaginary baseball cap going in reverse, a unique moment and chance in time that I answered with …

… this mix tape (aka CD) titled “Something Beautiful”.

It contained a hell of a collection of songs, broad hint with a capital B. It was clandestinely handed over by a good, discreet and conspiratorial friend … and then the waiting began. Again.

Decades passed.

Naturally, every one of the selected songs had its own story, a story in itself, a story for me, but also a connection to many of the stories that my Queen of Hearts to-be had been going through (as I had heard through the grape-vine and witnessed as a sideline observer). So hopes were high for a favourable, comprehending, comprehensive and, from a music and lyric lover’s perspective, appropriate reaction. A reaction that would show whether she was the right one. A simple “Oh, thanks” would have been just as disappointing as her not liking the kind of music her stalker was offering her, maybe even selecting the wrong, meaning most obvious song as her favourite one, one of those I had chosen from a “she’ll definitely love this one” perspective.

"something beautiful" Broad hint track list

 

BUT … after waiting an appropriate while before even answering to this unasked-for present, she immediately named THE one song as her favourite that I had indeed put on this compilation as a kind of test balloon to check whether our two clocks were ticking in synch. THE one song that was my favourite song, from my favourite singer, expressing my favourite mood … a massive Broad hint from destiny. Or so I wanted to interpret it.

And the song was … “Sail Away” by David Gray. A song that has never been the same ever since, has probably reached an unsurpassable pool position on the past ten year’s hot rotation lists, has bestowed on us a very special moment at Mister G.’s 2006 concert in Munich, and has been the “Honey Call” tune on my mobile since mobile phones could read mp3’s.

Who knows, maybe without this joint Sail Away passion, we would never have gone out, never have kissed, never have, never have, never have …

OK, probably, if it was really meant to be in the first place, we would have gone out and done all that other stuff anyway, even if she’d had named the eponymous Robbie Williams song that found its way onto “Something Beautiful”.

I prefer the Sail Away story.

True story, true love.

 Sail away with me honey

I put my heart in your hands

Sail away with me honey now, now now.

 

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The Lopsided Love Story of Mister G. and Mister D., Part 2: The Trip

02 Wednesday Jul 2014

Posted by herr dennehy in experiences, music, What is STORY?

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

David Gray, drama, Love Story, musical infatuation, Mutineers, Nightblindness, Please Forgive Me, Sail Away, Storytelling, true story, Truth, Warner Bros, White Ladder

“A part of me pre
A part of me post
A part of me present
One part of me ghost
A part of me wants to run.”

David Gray, “As The Crow Flies” (2014)

 

This is the story about pre me getting to know Mister G.:

It was sometime in the autumn of 1999, probably a rainy day, as autumn days tend to be. I was hanging around record stores with my friend and flat mate Martin, as so often in those days. In one of the more major-label stores in town, I literally (true story!) tripped over a massive Warner Bros. promotion stand advertising “White Ladder” (which is interesting, as the album was never really released with Warner Bros., but on David’s own label “IHT Records” under license to Warner Music UK Ltd., but probably IHT wouldn’t have had a stand in that record store, so there you go).

Anyway. I don’t know how or why, but somehow I felt, simply by looking at the cover, that I was standing in front of something different, something special, something that didn’t quite fit into this mainstream record store’s usual repertoire. I stepped a little closer, reached out for one of the CD’s that had fallen to the ground …

And then …

…All surrounding ambient sound faded. The atmosphere  became eerie, lights dimmed. A distant voice whispered into my ear “This record will change your life!”. It was like I had jumped the tracks of time and space. Fog coming from where the record store’s loudspeakers were, a very mystical Galadriel moment …

And then …

Nothing. Little storyteller’s detour, freedom to exaggerate and put the subtext into perspective. 🙂 In real life, the store was boring and unmystically commercial, no ghosts of past-away singer-songwriter gods around directing me to my new love. I guess…

But I did indeed reach for one of the CD’s I had knocked down off of their pedestal, looked at the simple, yet somehow secretive cover, flipped sides, struck by the design’s focus on content, i.e. songs. Only 10, perfect amount. 8 always too close to an EP, suggesting a lack of material, 12 still ok, but already on the verge of being too much to grasp an album at first listening. Turning the CD back around, there was (and still is, I’ve never taken it off) this sticker with a review quote from “The Times”, saying: “It’s a record that makes your life feel better by its mere existence.” To date, this remains the best compliment for any artistic work that I’ve ever read. And a knock-down argument for me to buy the CD. Which I did.

The mother of all CD cover stickers! You can even see my hand reaching out to climb the White Ladder. :)

The mother of all CD cover stickers! You can even still see the hand reaching out to climb the White Ladder. 🙂

Guess this is what you call love at first sight, like meeting a woman in a bar or the office, knowing: This is the one. The beginning.

What happened next: overzealous attempts to get to know this new lover better, discover his history like an archeologist, getting lost in endless hours of hot rotations. Putting flesh to the bones of my new passion at the end of a century, secretly hoping Mister G. would be mine, be mine, remain mine, that he wouldn’t sell, sell, sell (out).

White Ladders’ drum intro alone: a statement, a clear move from raw singer-songwriting (that we know from album 1-3) to courageous upbeat folk pop without the often attached cheesiness. Creating an immediate atmosphere of minor mood turning into major pleasure, a promise the album is able to keep right up to the last chord after 57:17 minutes (excluding UK bonus track “(I Can’t Get) Through to Myself” and US bonus track “Babylon II”).

If that doesn’t get to you, nothing will:

 

This is the official video incl. David’s congenial ex-drummer Craig McClune, always a sensationally entertaining counterpart to his boss whenever they performed together – and I must admit: I have been missing him ever since he split up with David in 2006!

It’s tough to even select favourite tunes from this perfect album, but if I had to (which I gladly don’t), I’d definitely go for:

I. “This Year’s Love” (in this amazing live version):

 

II. “Nightblindness”, e-very-specially in this just mind-blowing live version from the London Roundhouse, unfortunately only the audio on YouTube, so close your eyes and escape for 11:05 minutes, worth every second:

 

III. (of course!) “Sail Away”, a single that literally changed my life … the intro of this live version being my official “Honey Ringtone” ever since it was published on the “Draw the Line” Deluxe Edition:

 

END OF PART 2.

PART 3 will be exploring the power of a song with its own story to change mine at the probably most important crossroads of my life so far …

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The Lopsided Love Story of Mister G. and Mister D., Part 1: Prologue

30 Monday Jun 2014

Posted by herr dennehy in experiences, music, What is STORY?

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

David Gray, drama, Love Story, musical infatuation, Mutineers, Sail Away, true story, Truth, White Ladder

Mutineers … Mister G.’s new album. Took him five years! Worth the wait?

MutineersCovFinal_1400px

First of all, a rather appropriate title for this medium-late chapter in the love story of Mister G. and Mister D. (a story only the latter is aware of, naturally).

Why? Well, I was veeery close to becoming mutinous with this Englishman after his last couple of albums. Not that I hated them, not at all, but I also couldn’t quite come around to truly loving them either. Even after many intensive listening sessions, I was always left with this feeling of “not bad, but nothing special”. Granted, a tough task for any artist to continuously come up with “something special” or “something even better” than the previous, especially for David after his 1998 masterpiece “White Ladder” – one of those records I would put amongst the infamous three to take to a deserted island with me. (Note to myself: Nobody ever asks you how you would actually listen to that record on a deserted island … ah whatever.)

Ever since David chose to sing about a “Life in Slow Motion”, that’s also kind of what happened to my infatuation with his music: A slow-motion of drifting apart, again only noticed by the D. side of the relationship, I presume.

Then a good friend of mine forwards a Financial Times article to me, an interview with David Gray, about birds (with and without wings), and about his new album – I wasn’t even aware that there was a new album forthcoming, that’s how detached I had become, never happened before. The interview was also about mutining your life, throwing all that’s behind you over board, starting anew, in fresh waters, into fresh air, like the many birds on this great new record.

Even while reading the article, I opened my Spotify treasure chest, checking. There it was, only three tracks pre-released for streaming, the first single’s title “Back in the World”. Back in mine? Sure feels good, to shake the monkey off my back …

As the first chords resound: White Ladder feeling, at least justified hope. The initial lines go:

“Every day when I open my eyes now

It feels like a Saturday

Taking down from the shelf

All the parts of myself that I packed away.”

I was taken away on the spot, by the sound, the mood, the “Please forgive me”-like percussion, the lyrics, and the voice, of course, strong as ever.

 

The second track available was “Beautiful Agony”. Hell yeah, the beauty of melancholy! My hidden passion. David singing about

“Love vandalising me

With beautiful agony.”

Who doesn’t know what he’s talking about? And then this calm, non-vandalising melody, moving from mantra to story with a free fall into minor keys accompanying the lines “Once upon a time / It wasn’t like this / Love was mine / So what the hell / Is happening here?”.

The third track: “Gulls”. A meditative album ending (as the partly inactive 11-track list suggested), an end-is-the-beginning-like song. The narrator maybe standing on the edge of a windy cliff, watching gulls fly, independent, yet somehow belonging to their cries, and their cries belonging to the wind … and the wind?

David’s rendition of “You Gotta Serve Somebody”?

“I gave my breath to the song

To the song, wasn’t mine

Neither of ship not of sea

Neither of glass nor of wine.”

 

LOVE RELOADED, after 3 songs!

And oh, how I love this percolating impatience, to get more, to hear the rest. This instant move to an online retail store, clicking “pre-order now”, and then waiting … waiting … waiting. Waiting for and then finally receiving a parcel, a vintage, deluxe feeling in the age of “I want it now, I get it now!” Of course I ordered the deluxe edition, with tons of new live recording of old songs. Arrived yesterday, and now I’m listening my way through the remaining 8 tracks … Soccer World Cup my behind!

 

But how did this lopsided love story between Mister G. and Mister D. begin in the first place?

Let me recall “the early years” … in Part 2 of this mutineer’s anecdote.

… How stumbling in a record store turned out to be a very consequential trip.

… And why “Sail Away” is responsible for “This Year’s Love” turning into “This Life’s Love”.

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What if Giving up Control were not a Threat, but an Opportunity?

04 Wednesday Jun 2014

Posted by herr dennehy in experiences, Ideas, Storytrain

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

Bob Dylan, brand journalism, brand storytelling, Business, business storytelling, change, Christopher Locke, cluetrain manifesto, Co-creation, conversations, corporate storytelling, David Weinberger., Deep Space Nine, Doc Searls, Edgar Allen Poe, Human, listening, loss of control, Rick Levine, social media, Star Trek, Truth

Copyright: article.wn.com

 

Let’s admit it: We’re all losing control.

First of all, in the part of life that we call private life.

Where the day starts with an always-charged, smart-ass smart phone coldly grinning at me, relentlessly turning Beethoven’s wonderful “Klavierkonzert Nr. 5 Es-Dur” into my own personal groundhog-day experience. Gladly, this hasn’t spoilt my love for this concerto yet: For years now, I prefer being carried from the land of peaceful sommeil et rêves to the gates of daylight by Ludwig’s silent power than by Steve’s awful ringtone selection or distressingly well-tempered radio hosts.

Still, Beethoven aside, that’s the first loss of control of the day. Over my morning. A control (I thought) I used to have, at least before my own school days when there was just me and eternity. And also after school’s early-bird-my-ass 13 years, at university, when I could freely decide whether to get up for some early-morning lecture, or not. Probably that was an illusion, too … Aaah, whatever!

But now control’s definitely gone, along with the good-night’s sleep from pre-children days that used to precede the alarm bell’s toll.

The rest of an average day just goes with a flow that doesn’t seem to be mine (or ours, more correctly) anymore: Shower, tooth-brush, razor. Wardrobe, kitchen, espresso machinetta. Wake up kids, dress up kids, breakfast kids. School, kindergarten, metro. First mails, social channel check, maybe a little Spotify or FM4 on the train, blocking the rest of the underground world with my on-ears. Then it’s on to the office with its own very special affluent of Outlook, multiple phones, meetings, inter-desk chats, occasional join lunch breaks and … social channel checks.  Metro back home, social channel check, more in a rush than in the morning. Dinner, kids to bed, cleaning up. 2100 hrs sharp: time for twosomeness, music, movies or … maybe writing a blog post?

But then: Swoosh! In comes this invisible force from out of nowhere, hangs leaden weights to my eye lids, message clear: Don’t fight it! You’re tired! Go to sleep … maybe last chance for a social channel check, then … zzzzzz.

OK, I may be overegging the pudding a little, but the point is clear: Life has taken control of me, not visa versa. But it’s never too late to fight back!

If only I weren’t so tired … 🙂

TIRED

 

Then there is this other part of life that we call business life.

And I’m not speaking work-life balance here, that’s an outdated, unrealistic concept anyway in the age of smart iDevices (not “i” as in internet, but “i” as in “i am the device and the device is me”).

I’m talking about the life of a business, of a company, of a cooperation, call it what you like.

Whereas I personally admit to the fact that I’m losing control and maybe have slight hope of escaping as time goes by, (most) enterprises actually still believe they are in control – a control they have literally already lost, and will never get back. In control of the products they produce and sell (Henry Ford’s many heirs still alive, producing cars in various shades of black: Shut up, eat your spinach, it’s good for you!). In control of the people they can hire, retain, or fire. And (this is most obviously the biggest heretic belief) in control of their brands, their reputation, their communication efforts.

Will anybody out there please wake up, open your eyes, put an oversized espresso machinetta on the stove, extra strong, and realize that the times they are a-changing, or better: have already a-changed???

Read a brief history of the Internet, then come again. It’s been a long time coming …

… So: What does this mean?

“Companies that don’t realize their markets are now networked person-to-person, getting smarter as a result and deeply joined in conversation are missing their best opportunity.” (cluetrain.com, Thesis 18)

Opportunity is the right word. Not threat, as many still see it. Challenge maybe, yet a threat only for companies who decide to remain lonely regents of Shannon-Weaver Island. But opportunity for those who recognize that the sender-recipient model has served it’s time.

In private-life situations where networked kids are getting smarter, no longer just say “SIR, YES, SIR!” when you tell them what to do, but – like it or not – want to understand, want discourse, want dialogue, want to be taken seriously, and embark on a life-long conversation journey with their parents. And this is quite admirable, actually.

And in business-life situations all the same holds true for companies and their “kids”, which they disparagingly call stakeholders, users, target groups. But they’re actually people, human beings. Employees, customers, investors, journalists, bloggers, talents, politicians, etc.etc.etc. And as my kids are getting smarter by the day with their own real-life Internet (still very offline, gladly), so are a company’s kids, aided by the powerful global conversation that has begun through the Internet, “getting smarter – and getting smarter faster than most companies.” (cluetrain.com)

Whereas the Cluetrain Manifesto was at the time (very far-sighted, considering it was 1999) describing what was going on in a (compared to nowadays limited) community of Internet users and how this would need to impact the way corporations talk and act towards these networked, conversation-driven markets, I would like to take this notion a step further:

What if the future of companies, corporations and brands is a future, in which their brand story and their image no longer belongs to them?

What if these networked communities would not only co-create campaigns or isolated contents for companies (as they already do increasingly often today), but co-create and co-develop entire brands, communicatively manipulate a brand’s genes, its DNA? Co-write their history, story and stories?

What if reputation management wasn’t a thing a company could do by itself or have an expensive agency do, but something that is taken over by its “stakeholders”?

And now, while this still sounds like a threat, like a mob raging outside my fortress walls, here’s another thought:

What if … the above were all things a corporation would DELIBERATELY do?
Meaning: Go from telling “Who We Are!” to asking “Who Are We?” or “Who Should We Be?”

Imagine the outcome!

Imagine the level of relevance, content (as in “Zufriedenheit”), and respect you could harvest!

Imagine that you couldn’t imagine who you would be as a brand in, say, 50 years!

Imagine you could build a business not on ROI (Return on Invest), but on ROT (Return on Trust) or ROL (Return on Love)!

“And in the end, the love you get is equal to the love you give.” (The Beatles, “The End”)

Gee, scary thought.

The recipient would become the sender, the sender the recipient. The crowd would become part of the communications, marketing and brand department, and corporate comms would diffuse in the crowd. True emancipation, the foundation stone for every lasting relationship that makes love and trust its pillars.

Taking Poe’s “Man of the Crowd” to the next level: The follower doesn’t simply watch his target vanish into the crowd, but would actually follow. Dive into a kind of Great Link like DS9’s Odo and his fellow shape-shifters, a place where sender and recipient, comms department and target groups, brands and stakeholders amalgamate, for the benefit of both …

Copyright: treknews.net

Freakin’ esoteric stuff!

So let’s better round this off with something more down-to-earth.

With the famous words of Robert Zimmerman:

“Come gather ’round people
Wherever you roam
And admit that the waters
Around you have grown

And accept it that soon
You’ll be drenched to the bone
If your time to you
Is worth savin’

Then you better start swimmin’
Or you’ll sink like a stone
For the times they are a-changin'”

 

Thank you, Bob! Right on!

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Ignore Your Audience! Or: Guy Clark’s Advice for Life, Love, and … True Storytelling

06 Tuesday May 2014

Posted by herr dennehy in experiences, Ideas, What is STORY?

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Ardbeg, Audience, authentic, Authenticity, Boldness, brand storytelling, business storytelling, cluetrain manifesto, corporate storytelling, drama, Guy Clark, Human, human voice, Integrity, John Gorka, John Prine, Johnny Cash, Kris Kristofferson, Martini, Righteousness, Schwabing, Steve Earle, story, Storytelling, Texas, Texas Country, Texas Folk, Texas Music, Townes Van Zandt, true story, Truth

oldfriends

Granted, this interpretation might seem far-fetched, but hey, that’s the great thing about having my own blog: I can write, interpret and far-fetch as much as I like, ain’t nobody’s business but mine. 🙂

Thanks to my dear old friend Martin (old as in long-cherished, but also as in older than me, haha…and formerly known as “Müllermartinhallo” to people calling our shared apartment in Schwabing over 15 years ago … Gee, talking about old, is it that long ago???), I have been introduced to the power and beauty of Texan songwriters, bards and troubadours. Often scolded “Country Music” by ignorants (like me back then), “Texas Folk” (aka “Outlaw Country”, “Texas Country” or simply “Texas Music”) is much more, and something completely different. You can clearly hear it in its anti-Nashville sound and instrumentation, which actually brings it much closer to Woody Guthrie’s Folk, Hank Williams’ early Country and Western style, even Blues. One reason why it’s quite rightly often considered “roots music”, music that draws its inspiration and emotional power not only from the roots of American history and culture, but indeed from the roots of mankind, of human being.

Even though it is said that music has a universal power, which is certainly true, it’s the lyrics of many of these Texan songs that do it for me, no wonder: “Lyrical content is the backbone of Texas country”, as the web teaches us. I can indeed understand people simply not responding to hand-made music, raw stuff that sounds more like a garage than a BMG studio, but I do find it hard to appreciate lyrical and poetic numbness in people who don’t just bow down to some of the folk scene’s thrilling lines. And those troubadours like Townes Van Zandt, Kris Kristofferson, Steve Earle, John Prine, or even non-Texans John Gorka and Johnny Cash (unrightfully mistaken as a Nashville guy for too long) simply got it goin on the text side of life. True storytellers of true stories, not by “creative writing course”, but by nature, by heart.

Much has been written about folk music from Texas or elsewhere in the English-speaking world (the language barrier where I would actually draw the line, calling the rest “Volksmusik”or “Folkore”, but that’s surely arguable), and if you want to know all there is to know about Texas Folk, its origins, history, meaning as well as all its great exponents, you’d better ask my old friend Müllermartinhallo himself or read his own words at facebook.com/de.martin.wimmer or deinlandmeinland.com (where he tends to his alter ego Willi Ehms). Nobody knows more about that stuff than him – as I could witness in endless Martini and Ardbeg nights in Munich’s beautiful Schwabing at the end of the last century.

No, I’m not out to write an incompetent take two at a Wikipedia entry or compete with No Depression and other Roots authorities. What made me start this post was actually the short, but soul-pinching lyrics of one of my favorite North American singer-/songwriters Guy Clark (by coincidence from Texas) that have stuck in my heart and mind ever since I heard them first – and have not only accompanied me through life’s many introspective challenges and helped me make one or the other right decision. They have also proven true and helpful in explaining the essence of a good storyteller and good, true and successful storytelling, to myself, and to others.

I may not know all of Guy’s songs (yet), but I know and I LOVE this one for its simplistic beauty and truth, words to engrave into your wedding ring.

The song’s called “Come From The Heart”, very appropriately from his 1988 album “Old Friends”, and is goes like this:

 When I was a young man, my daddy told me
A lesson he learned, it was a long time ago
If you want to have someone to hold onto
You’re gonna have to learn to let go

You got to sing like you don’t need the money
Love like you’ll never get hurt
You got to dance like nobody’s watchin’
It’s gotta come from the heart if you want it to work

Now here is the one thing that I keep forgetting
When everything is falling apart
In life as in love, what I need to remember
There’s such a thing as trying too hard

You got to sing like you don’t need the money
Love like you’ll never get hurt
You got to dance like nobody’s watchin’
It’s gotta come from the heart if you want it to work


 

And the accompanying song sounds like this:

 


Now … How am I gonna turn the corner on this one? From words that come from the heart, about love and life, to business storytelling? Ah, c’mon! There must be some connection, or did I daydream it while listening to Guy’s song … is it indeed true that there is such a thing as trying too hard, also when blogging about storytelling and trying to find a story connection everywhere?

Ah, got it, I remember: “In life as in love”, it says. And what different is business life to “normal” life anyway? Humans, mostly men, playing a game of thrones, of love and hate, of life and death, even if gladly (most of the time) not in a literal sense, though it can hurt nonetheless. But also people (or colleagues) helping each other through tough times, providing a working environment worth remaining a part of. Or (now I’m really bending this one into shape here!) products (or solutions or services or whatever) actually helping people change their world for the better. These are all the stories great and small that – if true and told in the right way – can convince others and turn so-called “prospects” into customers or employees, or at least brand ambassadors.

And this right way of telling a story is: Truth, Authenticity, Integrity, Righteousness. And Boldness – a virtue most cooperations, especially from the so-called “old economy” or, simpler, the 19th and 20th century, still lack to an appalling degree. The courage to speak (or write) in the true, human and individual voices of each and every one of its employees or customers, even if doing it on behalf of the company. Let’s make one thing clear: There is no corporate voice, cooperations cannot speak, think, feel, or experience anything; it’s their people and the people the get in contact with (communicatively or while making business) who have this human voice that is “unmistakably genuine and can’t be faked”  – a voice that can come from the heart, that (if bold and courageous and self-confident enough) speaks like nobody’s listening, like nobody’s watching, like there is no audience.

So here a bone to chew on:

Ignore your audience!

Go on, try it: Tell your story as it is, without thinking about its reception before it’s even written (or filmed)! This may not (right away) be what you audience wants to hear, but it may be what you have to say, what you want to tell.

And it’s gotta come from the heart, if you want it to work.

 

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