When Apple announced the iPhone, lo these many months ago, anyone who cared a whit about consumer electronics was floored. Anytime Apple puts its hand to just about any problem, people get floored. Everyone I knew began to conspire about just how they would get an iPhone into their hands in June. As time stretched on, the hype machine slowed to a crawl; Apple talked about other products, focus shifted, and the iPhone took a backseat to other product news. That hype that had been buzzing in the backs of our heads like too much caffeine was replaced by other things, and the iPhone became old hat. This caused some speculation on my part, having been in marketing and advertising, about just how Apple would restart the hype machine when the need arose. I have to admit I may have underestimated Apple this time around.
I’ve seen the new iPhone commercials. The Church of Jobs is open for business once again.
First of all, few companies could generate this much hype to begin with. Whipping the gadget press into this much of a frenzy, six months before a product launches or even has FCC approval? Pure Apple. I dare say there are some others who could turn on the charm for their device—Nokia, maybe—but Apple is the only one who can restart the machine merely by showing you the product working. That’s it. No tricks. No celebrities dancing with it, or Oprah putting it under your chair. A static tight shot of the device. Doing stuff. And that’s the essence of it right there. Any idea that you want the public to eat up with a spoon needs to be, to some degree, self evident. It needs to elicit the response “I never knew I even needed this until now.” Apple has this ability by the truckload.
I. Create a hammer for a thousand nails
Palm used to have it. The Foleo I wrote about previously is a perfect example of something that we didn’t know we needed, realized. The difference is that the niche is so small, the branding so narrow, that it’s easy to talk yourself out of it. Palm used to have an undeniable product that was small and engaging. In the early days, even 3Com didn’t really have all the answers about what it was for. The marketing materials and box copy hinted at the obvious things, but most of the truly novel ways people used Palm Pilots had nothing to do with their creators and everything to do with an enthusiastic community. This is, to a degree, why non-cellphone technology products with narrowly defined uses don’t go over very well. We want to use our gadgets for things they were never intended for, because it makes us feel connected and involved in the experience even if we can’t code a line. The Foleo, to beat a dead horse, doesn’t allow for that unless you’re willing to mod your kernel to boot from flash memory and risk fragging your new lappy in the process. The iPhone, with the addition of a few indie developers, is the platform of choice for people who want to make their own solution to some problem Apple hasn’t even thought of yet.
II. People don’t really need heroes
The television ads for Windows 95, while expensive, didn’t really put asses in seats as they say on the carny circuit. Most of them, and most PC advertising thereafter, showed incredible feats of world saving prowess; saving your company a gazillion dollars, rescuing world economies, lashing once broken families together again over a broadband line and a webcam. There’s just one problem: people are scared they can’t operate that hero computer. How do I do those things, they wonder, staring in amazement at the latest Vista whizbang tech. I have no idea what I would do in front of that computer. With iPhone, Apple’s new ads suggest, you don’t have to be a hero. You just use a map to find calamari. There is more tech in this Lilliputian phone than your tiny mind can ever comprehend, the iPhone confidently whispers, but all you need to operate your little slice of it is your finger. Sure there’s a god mode on here somewhere, but that’s for your nephew the hacker. For you? We have email. No heroes. No manual. Delicious, calming email.
III. That undefinable quality
After using and loving anything with an Apple logo on it for almost 20 years, I freely admit that part of the charm is something I can’t define. Beyond a certain point, I don’t know why my iPod is better than some Creative Labs chunk of plastic. It’s the sum of the parts, the UI, the finish, the “privilege of ownership.” Whatever it is, people want it. It’s the same reason Target is outselling WalMart. It’s a quality that in many ways outstrips our ability to analyze it. Of course Target is cleaner, brighter, and nicer. But look at the carts: molded handles, big wheels with sealed bearings. Would this ever factor into the business plan of a company whose mission was to beat WalMart? Probably not. And yet here it is. That little change helps you know that not only are you not in Kansas anymore, but Kansas is a greasy spot on the highway compared to here. And going back to Kansas is something you’ll pay a premium not to have to do anymore.
Good products are, less good products do. I want the product that manages to wedge itself into my life in ways that I never thought of, that simply exists in my space with me. I don’t want a product that does lots of things, and explains them all to me in explicit detail in the manual and in three languages. Companies are learning this slowly, with guys like Apple, Dyson and Ikea leading them.