The age-old story goes a little something like this: black rapper; old white guys in suits. He makes really good music; they make really bad decisions.
Now that the music industry has just about self-destructed (because a predictable story deserves a predictable ending), musicians are channeling their creativity into their own marketing efforts. And considering art should be left to artists, some of these efforts are pretty damn good.
Meet Homeboy Sandman, MTA advertising squatter extraordinaire. With a fleet of paper-and-tape ads and an ambitious website, Mr. Sandman is no doubt laughing at those of his contemporaries who are still playing court jester and juggling for the decrepit powers that be. (And, not to mention, laughing at Madison Ave, which would have charged those powers about $15 mil for what he accomplished with $15). You’ve got to hand it to him for staying true to the game’s holiest commandment: “Thou shalt make a dollar out of 15 cents.”
When I saw this ad for the first time, I was going to tell Mr. Sandman not to quit his day job. That is, assuming that he was an advertising copywriter who wanted to give it all up in the name of music. We all know what happened when Michael Jordan pulled that stunt, right?
Homeboy has posted a series of these ads throughout the NYC subway system, and I’m kicking myself for not taking a picture of another one I saw. It read something like, “You know your friend who has an internship at a major recording studio? Make him a very rich man: www.HomeboySandman.com.”
I called the Homeboy this morning, actually, to see if he’d scan that one for me.
“Hi, is this Homeboy? Mr. Sandman, please.”
I won’t transcribe the whole conversation, but I’ll tell you that the Homeboy is all business. If only he had a scanner. Sigh.
The best ads are the ones that tell stories. Or actually “show” stories.
Homeboy’s story is one for the ages: Once upon a time, a New York City musician made some damn good music. He didn’t feel like being a slave to the system, so he took matters into his own hands.
You read this story in his ads and you can visit his website and listen to his music. If you like him, you can buy his music on iTunes or Rhapsody. Maybe buy a T-shirt, or hell, sign up for his newsletter. Even better, read his blog (a charming little venue where he brings to light the important NYC issues, like stepping in dog shit while walking down the street). The Sandman, my friends, is interactive.
Brands should create their own media platforms rather than borrowing them from others, but the story becomes all the more interesting when the ad space is stolen. That's what New Yorkers call squatting—and it's the story of the city.
This is how Sandman enters:
