brandish background3.jpg

Brandish

Words about words, brands, names and naming, and the creative process.

Oxymorons: Surprisingly Obvious

pww long 060118.jpg

Verbal branding is not an intellectual exercise [like filling in a crossword puzzle] or a parlor game [like Pictionary or charades]. Yes, there is the aspect of finding the exact words to tell the whole story, and of communicating relevant information quickly. But that is not the endpoint. It’s not a game you win by checking the boxes and getting the highest score. Verbal branding is about connecting [because you’re worth it], about creating meaning [hulu is a new way to access entertainment] and/or changing inaccurate perceptions [car-sharing actually increases independence], and ultimately, about motivating behavior [just do it].

The trouble is, the brain has a hardwired preference for re-tracing existing neural pathways. It’s easier, more energy-efficient to stay the course. Consequently, people tend to follow their established patterns of behavior, doing what they always do because … well, because they have always done it. Perfectly comfortable in a routine, a person has little interest in the new things, the new thoughts, the new ways of being or doing.

Now, you know your offering can make a difference — a smarter interface, a quicker delivery system, a brighter bulb, a deeper connection — but how do you get around the innate neurological resistance of your intended audience? How do you capture and hold their attention long enough to create change?

Disrupt.

To be effective, a name — the message that name carries — has to short-circuit a synapse mid-arc. Has to disconnect autopilot, stop the hand from hitting the snooze button again. Has to interfere with, rattle, suspend, challenge preconception for just a nanosecond. Long enough to maybe start a new neural pathway.

There is an inherently disruptive class of words — the oxymoron. This figure of speech refers to apparently contradictory terms used in combination, e.g., jumbo shrimp, pretty ugly, dress pants. This word is itself an oxymoron, originating from a mash-up of the Greek words oxus meaning sharp, and moros, meaning foolish or dull.

Use of the modifier apparently in the definition is significant. In general usage, oxymorons arise from homonyms — words that are spelled alike and pronounced the same, but have different meanings. For example, the definition of shrimp meaning small definitively contradicts the word jumbo meaning big. But the phrase jumbo shrimp refers to shellfish on the larger end of the continuum for their species — nothing contradictory there. The adjectives pretty and ugly are antonyms, but as an adverb, pretty also means to a moderately high degree. So pretty ugly is only an apparent contradiction; it is actually a perfectly sensible description of something fairly unattractive. Similarly, a dress and pants are two different kinds of clothing, but calling slacks worn for upscale occasions dress pants is clear and straightforward.

By contrast, employing an oxymoron in verbal branding is often a deliberate construct of actually contradicting terms. The Asphalt Jungle. Dead Man Walking. Faraway Close. Mr. Mom. Slumdog Millionaire. Icy Hot. Krispy Kreme. The visceral dissonance created by linking opposing words comes from nowhere, takes you by surprise, makes you do a double take. It automatically disrupts.

However, even though oxymorons are naturally disruptive, and disruption is critical in capturing attention, an oxymoron isn’t ideal for every naming project. There must be a strategic underpinning behind such a linguistic choice [the objective is to raise awareness and change behavior, not to bewilder and confuse]. Consider Eyes Wide Shut or Urban Cowboy. These titles are not “clever” for the sake of being disruptive, but rather they establish tone and atmosphere. Both of these films follow lead characters who are struggling against demons, swimming upstream, searching for something. The incongruity of the titles reflects their disorientation, and foreshadows underlying themes of the films, setting appropriate expectations for viewers.

Disorientation also works well in comedy, although it often plays more like discombobulation. Using a true oxymoron — an apparent contradiction — the title Back to the Future makes perfect sense if you’ve travelled back in time and have to return to the present, which is the future if you are presently in the past. Discombobulating

Or the title 50 First Dates, evoking all the reluctance, awkwardness, uncertainty, and hesitant optimism of any single first date — times fifty — then taking the turn into oxymoron territory when it is revealed to be 50 first dates … with the same woman. Her short-term memory disorder is central to the film, and telegraphed expertly in the title.

The few examples of oxymorons in product naming tend to be descriptive rather than disorienting or discombobulating. For example, Icy Hot hyperbolizes the contrasting cooling then warming sensations triggered by the active ingredients. Krispy Kreme highlights the outside crunch contrasting the inside smoothness of [some say] the best doughnuts in the U.S.

No matter the offering — from a new company launching to introduce a new way forward, to an existing beverage product adding a new flavor variant — something is new. New means change, and change is hard. To break through that resistance, a name must equally disrupt — defy expectations — and illuminate — set new expectations.

Defy [meaning challenge] and set [meaning solidify] are opposites — a classic oxymoron … making perfect sense. To carve out brain-space for something new, an offering must first capture attention [this is not the same ol’ same ol’], and then distinguish itself from existing alternatives [you need this and can’t get it anywhere else]. Whether an oxymoron construct is the best linguistic device to serve that purpose, or whether some other arrow in your verbal-branding quiver is better suited to get the message across, keep in mind that the tool should never overpower the intention. It’s not a game of trying to show off the best possible language tricks. [Well, unless what you’re offering is a game where the players show off the best possible language tricks.] It’s about expressly communicating the very specific solution your new offering provides — the very possibility, the very euphoria, the very community, the very happiness. You know, in a word or two. [And that is hardly easy.]

Starting this week, more is merrier as we add oxymorons into the mix of our weekly #PlaysWithWords mindgame. See you there.