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I knew from an early age that I wanted to work in advertising.
I found it fascinating that jingles and commercials could spread beyond TV and radio to give us common culture and shared language. They could even earn you the attention of your crush.
When I was in fourth grade, the jingle for JCPenny lodged itself in my head. “It’s All Inside,” I’d sing through the halls and—to my teachers’ bewilderment—the classroom.
My love of watching and singing ads earned me the nickname of “the jingle kid.” This was my personal brand, and it was so effective that classmates would submit their favorites to my discerning palate.
A boy would turn to me in chapel and say: “Eli, I heard my favorite last night: ‘Abita Man Can’.” I’d smile and nod politely.
The girl I had a crush on once found me in the hall and said to my dumb face: “I really like ‘Stanley Steemer: Tough on Dirt, Gentle on Carpet.’”
“Yeah, that’s a good one,” I nodded, keeping her questionable taste to myself.
Let’s get one thing straight: Advertising reflects our culture, but when it really works, it also helps define it.
Which is why tonight is so revealing.
Most of the spots you’ll see were created based on the opportunity to reach 125,000,000 people at once. That doesn’t happen in our culture anymore.
Because of the high stakes, ads are tested, tweaked, and overthought for months before the game. No one wants to spend $8 million and strike the wrong note.
These 30-second increments are engineered to be pre-loved, but some have always managed to stand out.
By the time I arrived in high school, you can imagine how cool and popular “the jingle kid” had become. While some of my friends were gathered watching the game with ice-cold Coors Lights, I was at home, laptop open to the Wall Street Journal’s ad blog.
This was 2011, and the Great Recession had changed America for the worse. Chrysler summoned Eminem for the confrontational “Imported from Detroit,” an attempt to reassert itself after the company’s 2009 bankruptcy.” And Volkswagen showed us the power of “The Force” through the cutest Darth Vader you ever saw.
Times were tough, but brands were responding.
We face a similar moment of doom and gloom today. I thought about this while watching this year’s spots, and noted a few ways that brands are holding up a mirror to the national mood(s) of these United States.
Here’s what I see.
First, a journey through Bro-mericana. We see buddies, beers, and a particular brand of American worship. The implied insistence that things are fine.
Then: the Heart-Snatchers, the ones reaching for tenderness. They want to reassure us that love still binds us together. You see it in family flashbacks, old-fashioned farms, and at least two stories of lost dogs (spoiler alert: they reunite with their owners).
Who’s that screaming in the back? It’s “Unhinged” Brand Voice, which uses absurdity as a pressure valve. You can feel the desire to escape from the current moment in anthropomorphic hair, candy, and potato chips.
Running through everything is the River of Nostalgia. A retreat to the past where recycled icons can hum back to life and comfort us. The idea that we’d feel more grounded with ‘80s Europop, ‘90s cars or just rewinding to 2016.
And then there’s a newer category, born from the AI backlash. I call this the Bastion of Craft. These are ads that want you to know they were made by human hands, including some A-list Hollywood directors. They take stylistic departures or shoot on film.
These threads weave a story of a nation in need of soothing, and the brands are handing us a menu of escape hatches to cope. But when you try to soothe everyone at once, it all comes out in a similar texture.
In other words, they’re slopping it up. Brands are aiming to validate people’s feelings when they have a once-a-year opportunity to set the tone on their own terms.
This doesn’t mean they’re failures. Many provide great entertainment, but I’d guess you’re more likely to remember the celebrities in them than the brands they’re promoting.
I’m here for stories that no one seemed to be asking for. The moments we didn’t see coming. Ads that contribute something of real value to the conversation. (So far, I’ve seen a couple of these.)
Hopefully, by the time the Super Bowl champion hoists the trophy, there will be more than a handful of gems. If not, there’s always next year.
I’ve pulled together a diverse collection of ads below. You get to decide: Do you think they tell a valuable story—worth, say, $8 million—or are they adding to the noise?
(Slop-O-Meter drawing by Josh Mintz)