Think Customers: The 1to1 Blog

A name is the most prominent verbal component of any brand, which is why companies are so protective of their names. When a name is associated with positive market perception, it becomes the envy of its competitors. (We've all encountered imitation brands, whose name and logo approximate a well-known brand's identity. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery--until it violates a registered trademark.)

Consider Prince, a musician who is himself a brand. When we talk about his music, there is rarely confusion over "Prince" (proper name) versus "prince" (common noun). But when Prince took his name--the primary signifier of his brand--away from his producers and the public and replaced it with an unpronounceable symbol, we had to be satisfied with, "The artist formerly known as Prince."

In Prince's own words: "Prince is the name that my Mother gave me at birth. Warner Bros. took the name, trademarked it, and used it as the main marketing tool to promote all of the music that I wrote. The company owns the name Prince and all related music marketed under Prince. I became merely a pawn used to produce more money for Warner Bros.... I was born Prince and did not want to adopt another conventional name. The only acceptable replacement for my name, and my identity, was the Love Symbol, a symbol with no pronunciation, that is a representation of me and what my music is about. This symbol is present in my work over the years; it is a concept that has evolved from my frustration; it is who I am. It is my name."

Prince knows the power of a name. And a trademark.

But verbal branding is far more than just a name. It is how a brand expresses itself in words, regardless of medium. Successful brands pick and choose their words, much like they define a color palette to represent themselves visually. The result is a very deliberate style of conversation with consumers.

One of the most notorious brand contrasts of the past few decades has evolved between Apple and Microsoft. If I take a minute to visit the web sites of the two companies, the difference between their brands is evident in the language they use. Apple presents a billboard image of the new iMac with the headline "More power. Thinly disguised." Besides being a direct reference to the iMac's capacity, there's an intelligent humor behind Apple's claim. "Thinly" describes the iMac's proportions and alludes to the fact that the company is not hiding its achievement. The effect is this: Apple anticipates I will discern the double meaning, thereby giving me credit for being a smart consumer. I, in turn, give Apple credit for having a clever headline--and knowing I will get it. The experience makes me feel appreciated.

When I visit Microsoft's site, there's no such central message. I am invited to download software in at least four different places; the company's tagline, "Your potential. Our passion." seems oddly disconnected from the tactical calls-to-action that visually segment the page. Microsoft's messages convey no sense of consumer empathy, let alone personality. In an effort to not impede clicks and product trial, Microsoft has adopted an economy of language that is directive and devoid of personality. I don't get the feeling of empathy that Apple's headline gives me. I'm left wondering who Microsoft really is.

Our reaction to a brand's visual presence is complemented by what the company says--or doesn't. When visual and verbal components are aligned, we get the sense that the brand is a cohesive entity with a single personality. When there's a discrepancy between how a brand looks and what it says--or when the brand fails to engage us verbally--we feel disoriented. And, ultimately, we don't understand the brand we're dealing with. That's a perception no company wants to leave with a consumer.

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Tom Parrette is director of verbal branding at Addis Creson