Let’s Talk About Rebranding — and The Beatles’ “Get Back”
The Beatles’ rooftop concert in January 1969, from “Get Back” (Disney+)
Peter Jackson may want to rethink his profession. After providing a couple of indie gems in the ’90s (Heavenly Creatures, The Frighteners), he transitioned to blockbuster territory in the oughts and 2010s with the Lord of the Rings films, King Kong, and the Hobbit trilogy. But for my money, Get Back, a reconstruction of Michael Lindsay-Hogg’s footage of the making of The Beatles’ “Let It Be” album, may be Jackson’s finest hour. Or rather, 7+ hours. The sprawling documentary provides a glimpse into the inner life of a band many of us thought we knew, and explodes it. It may, in fact, be the greatest rebrand in the history of rebrands. As Ben Sisario put it in the New York Times, “The mere existence of Get Back is a sign that, more than half a century after the Beatles disbanded, their history is still unsettled, and remains endlessly ripe for deep-dive research and partisan counternarratives.”
I waited a full year and a half after its release to watch Get Back. Mainly because the very idea of its existence was so thrilling that I didn’t want to watch it, for fear that when it ended, it would be the last new material we‘d see from the lads, maybe ever. And while that may turn out to be true, there are enough treasures in the documentary that its ephemeral nature is worth braving. As Sisario points out, the narrative up to the release of Get Back in November 2021 had been that the “Let It Be” sessions were a dreary slog, with the Beatles spending countless disgruntled hours in freezing Twickenham studios under Lindsay-Hogg’s bright lights and unyielding cameras. I’ve only seen the film Let It Be once. It is indeed a tough watch, leading one to the conclusion that The Beatles really couldn’t stand one another at the end.
As a marketer, I talk a lot about branding and rebranding, because they’re a necessary part of maintaining a healthy organization. “Brand” is a term that describes the way a company, organization, or entity is perceived by those within and outside. It’s part mission statement, part vision statement, and part values. It’s your visual identity — your logo, your font, your writing style. Ideally, brand is something you should be able to articulate within 15 seconds, also known as an “elevator pitch.” Some of the best brands are the ones you know by reputation. I suspect most people would say that National Geographic’s brand is a deep understanding of the outdoors and wildlife, excellent photography, and award-winning documentaries.
A “rebrand” is what happens when a company, organization, or entity has a certain persona, and wishes to alter that, in order to change perception. Here’s a hypothetical situation. One day, Procter & Gamble’s CEO Jon R. Moeller wakes up and thinks, “I want the public to think of Crest as a company that promotes the benefits of all-around oral health as opposed to one that just focuses on teeth and gums.” Moeller might contact his marketing department and say, “Listen fellas, without completely overhauling our current products, I’d like the public to see Crest in a new light. How do we make that happen?” The department, likely in consultation with dentists, would then dream up ways to make the public think differently about Crest. They could change the logo, come up with a new tagline, alter the current packaging, and envision a campaign that’s about healthy mouths. They’d conduct focus groups to determine what types of messaging a sample of the public responds to. Findings and recommendations would be presented to Moeller and the board, and if they like what they hear, the new approach would be put into production.
The rebrandings in which I’ve taken part have resulted in positive appraisal from audiences, community, and the public at a time when one of several things was taking place: the current brand was growing stale, we needed to shake things up after a gift, or our collateral was drawing from disparate design elements. In each case, it became necessary to find new ways to represent the company, visually and otherwise. Companies often rebrand due to changes in public opinion, mission, or personnel, or in the wake of a crisis or scandal. Cases in point:
Arthur Andersen, the Chicago-based accounting firm, changed the name of its consulting wing to Accenture, with a whole new look, after a bitter dispute between two halves of the company. (The half that remained as “Andersen” would eventually dissolve in the wake of the Enron debacle.)
Kentucky Fried Chicken officially changed its name to KFC in 1991, as Americans became more aware of the downsides of fried food. (As Seth Stevenson wrote in Slate: “Dieting trends made ‘fried’ a dirty cuss, and the plan was to banish it from view.”) The menu didn’t change, nor did the Colonel’s famous formula, but KFC sounded healthier than Kentucky Fried Chicken, and that was the point.
CVS, once known as Consumer Value Store, changed its name to CVS Health in 2014, when it pledged to stop selling tobacco products.
The YMCA became The Y in 2010, formally adopting the name that many used to refer to the community centers. The most significant change was the removal of the “M” and the “C” from the name, which stood for “Young Mens’ Christian Association.” Of course, that wasn’t mentioned in the announcement; in a statement, Kate Coleman, senior vice president and chief marketing officer of YMCA of the USA, offered this rationale: “We are simplifying how we describe the programs we offer so that it is immediately apparent that everything we do is designed to nurture the potential of children and teens, improve health and well-being, and support our neighbors and the larger community.”
Finally, not a rebrand of a name, but of a logo. Following the arrival of a new owner, new head coach, and new quarterback, the New England Patriots officially retired its original logo, a minuteman crouched with a football known as “Pat,” in 1993, adopting the sleek, more portable “Flying Elvis” logo, which remains in place to this day. The Patriots didn’t do well that year, posting a 5–11 record, but subsequent seasons were somewhat more successful.
Then you have your companies that will likely never rebrand, as their logo/look is far too entrenched in our subconscious, and to change things up would likely cause a small riot. They are the ultimate embodiment of the “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it” mentality.
Coca-Cola is probably the quintessential example of a company that has stuck with its primary logo. They’ve used (essentially) the same one since 1887, with the only major change being the introduction of the white wave, also known as a “Dynamic Ribbon Device,” in 1969. Even when they adopted the shorter, cuter “Coke” logo for Diet Coke (1982), the main brand mark still appeared on all of its products.
Apologies for another New England sports reference (I’m from there), but Boston’s beloved Red Sox are the polar opposite of the Patriots. Like most baseball teams, the Sox have three logos: an illustration, a word mark, and a letter mark/monogram. The illustration, a pair of red socks (duh), dates back to 1924. The word mark, in its classic MLB Tuscan font, came into use in 1930. And the “B” monogram, perhaps the brand’s most recognizable symbol, was born in 1936, though it has evolved a bit since. Even with the introduction of the yellow and blue City Connect unis in 2021, the Sox continue returning to their classic look.
Last example: Grey Poupon mustard. Although this tasty condiment is now manufactured in Holland, Michigan, the original recipe dates back to 1866, in Dijon, France, where moutardiers Maurice Grey and Auguste Poupon joined forces to create Grey-Poupon. And while their original logo looks nothing like the one devised in 1953, the brand has not wavered in its use of that logo since. Why? Tastes and preferences, primarily. The dominance of French’s and Gulden’s mustards finally came to an end in 1981, when an ingenious commercial linked Dijon mustard to the idea of wealth and taste. The “Frenchness” of the product was also a selling point, making consumers feel as if they were eating something rarified.
But let’s “get back” to The Beatles. A big takeaway from Michael Lindsay-Hogg’s film is how much the lads truly loved and respected one another, even amidst the chaos of Twickenham and impending solo projects. For every scene depicting a band member showing displeasure at Paul McCartney’s military-style leadership, there’s another of the boys joking with one another and having a blast. It’s a whole other side of the story.
Another takeaway: The Beatles don’t really seem to care for director Lindsay-Hogg, which is fascinating, given he’d directed the “Hey Jude” live session and the Rolling Stones’ Rock and Roll Circus. The band tends to regard him as something of a nuisance, which may have been more about them than anything else, but Lindsay-Hogg’s reputation definitely takes a hit in Get Back. I’m willing to cut him some slack. Even if Jackson’s opus counteracts the prevailing narrative, we do have Lindsay-Hogg to thank for capturing sixty hours of film footage and 150 hours of audio. And after all, it was Lindsay-Hogg who directed this classic Stones video.
Get Back is also a fascinating glimpse into the creative process. For anyone who’s wondered what it was like to be in the room when certain Beatles songs were born, here’s your chance. Not only do we get the moment the song “Get Back” entered McCartney’s mind, we also watch the noodling that produced such classics as “Two of Us,” “She Came in Through the Bathroom Window,” “Octopus’s Garden,” and “All Things Must Pass.” The “Let It Be” album may have been released following “Abbey Road,” but in Get Back, the songs are being developed simultaneously; it’s a rare peek into a process that often occurs behind closed doors.
For all of the rebrands I’ve implemented since starting my career in the ’90s, I haven’t come close to accomplishing what Peter Jackson achieved with Get Back. I never liked the version that had the lads at each others’ throats in their last year. Even though there’s quite a bit of grumbling in Get Back (some of it warranted), it still shows a band willing to compromise, complement, and enhance each other’s work.
For instance: we know that Paul took over the band after Brian Epstein’s death, and that rubbed certain members the wrong way. In Get Back, with John on the verge of a heroin addiction, George with reams of solo material on hold, and Ringo’s burgeoning film career, we see why it’s necessary. A lot’s been written about Yoko Ono’s presence in the studio during the recording — mainly, that it caused friction and led to the band’s demise. In Get Back, she chiefly serves as a security blanket for John; none of the friction is on display. As for George, with his role limited to sideman and occasional songwriter, he does indeed quit the band during rehearsals — and yet is convinced to come back by a desperate Lennon and McCartney. Musician Billy Preston stops by to say hello, but when he’s asked to sit in on the session, he becomes an indispensable part of the process. And as for Ringo (or “Richie,” as he’s called here), there’s every reason to believe that without his stoicism, the band might have fractured earlier; he’s game to play anything, no matter how silly or off the cuff.
Get Back is a portrait of The Beatles at the height of their powers, screwing around with ’50s classics and acting like goofballs while producing great music. It’s also a textbook rebrand, taking a narrative and upending it, showing us a band that, despite its personal struggles, could get it together when needed, and produce music that has stood the test of time.
Thinking about branding or rebranding your organization? That’s one of our specialties at Winick Marketing & Advocacy. Give us a shout to discuss your options. The first consultation is free.
