Did Motorola rip off a Talking Heads song?

Talking Heads: Chris Frantz, Tina Weymouth, David Byrne and Jerry Harrison (via Slate)

It's always a hard call when advertisers decide to use "original" music in an ad that is heavily evocative of an established song.

Listen to this ad, and make note of any classic songs that come to mind:

Qu'est-ce que c'est?

Yeah, me too. But is it plagiarism? That's for lawyers to decide.

From inside the ad agency world, I can tell you exactly how this went down. Creative teams often draw inspiration from songs they like. The ones with very healthy budgets, and willing rock stars, may actually get the chance to licence that song. But that's the exception.

Often, the song even gets used in the creative presentation, or in the case of a TV ad, it might be used to score the animatic. (A moving storyboard, used in pre-production.) Even early edits may have that song in them, just to help with pacing and tone.

But if the song is, ultimately, unattainable, the team eventually needs to brief a commercial composer. These briefings often include "something like [name of song or artist]" or the song itself may be used as an example in the briefing. This is normal.

For example, when we were doing a government of Canada ad a few years ago, I briefed the composer using Arcade Fire videos. However, I didn't say "make it sound like Arcade Fire," or "Make it sound like 'The Suburbs' or 'We Used to Wait'," I told told him I wanted "a contemporary alt-rock sound that will appeal to 20-somethings but still be appropriate for a government job training ad." The result was just what we wanted, but it was its own thing.

Even emulating a distinctive style can be problematic. In 1992, Tom Waits sued Frito-Lay for hiring a singer who sounded like him for an ad. He was awarded more than two million dollars.

The Motorola case is a little less open and shut. But it did catch the attention of Talking Heads/Tom Tom Club drummer Chris Frantz. Chris is married to Bassist Tina Weymouth, who wrote the bassline that the ad music partially emulates.

Chris asked his Facebook network, "My friends, if you have a moment, please click on this link and scroll down to "Play Video." Play the video and please tell me your thoughts. Thanks."

The verdict by friends and fans was that they didn't just hear "Psycho Killer" in the ad, but also Tom Tom Club's hit "Wordy Rappinghood."

Some felt it was a stretch. But at a time when Sam Smith willing pays Tom Petty and Jeff Lynne for "accidentally" lifting the structure of a hit song, or Robin Thicke and Pharrel try to pre-emptively sue the family of the artist they were "inspired" by, these are high-stakes issues.

What do you think?

Love For Sale

Gather round, kids. I have a story to share.

A long time ago, like in the 1970s, there was an edgy band in New York City. And the name of that band was Talking Heads.

Talking Heads were a really popular group. But they didn't start that way. They were first a couple of guys in design school who wanted to start a band, and the singer had to talk the drummer's girlfriend into learning how to play bass. Then they hooked up with a guitar and keyboards guy who once was a Modern Lover. And they played gigs in grimy little punk clubs like CBGB until they had built a big enough following to get signed.

The band made it big. I mean really big. Every time they played, they were burning down the house.



But. like all good things, it couldn't last forever. The singer wanted to do different things, and work with other people. Talking Heads found themselves playing together less and less.

Around this time, the drummer and his bassist girlfriend, who were now married, decided to start a new band. They sounded like this:



That band did okay, and released albums sporadically long after Talking Heads broke up. But I hadn't thought about them for years.

And here's where the story gets personal.

One day, a couple of months ago, I noticed my old friend (and longtime pusherman to my teenage vinyl habit) Bill had made friends with Chris Frantz on Facebook.

"Chris Frantz from Talking Heads?" I wondered aloud. And yes. It was. And he only had a few friends. So of course I sent him a request. Within 10 minutes I, too, was friends with Chris Frantz. (From Talking Heads.) So I tried talking to him.

I wasn't the only one. Chris seemed to make friends with about 10 new people a day. Many of them wrote on his wall, and he usually wrote back. He talked about songs, and records, and gigs, and his wife, and their vacation in Bretagne. And it was all very everyday stuff.

Now, Chris is up to about 3500 friends, and he keeps making more in small batches, chatting with them, and sharing stuff.

And guess what? Tom Tom Club is about to embark on their first concert tour in years. I know because Chris keeps talking about his preparations.

That's right, kids, I've been social media marketed to. And I don't mind at all.

Why? Because Chris is just like anyone else on Facebook. He talks about his life, his loves and his past. He shares jokes and links and pictures of pretty actresses. He promotes his work too—but then again, so do I. This is the same guy who played for small audiences at parties and clubs in the mid-70s, and gradually expanded his network of friends and supporters. He's just updated his venue.

In short, he's doing it right.

The moral of the story is that there's no better way to sell yourself online than to just be... yourself.

UPDATE (from FB):