Do You Hate This Ad? Spotify and the Self-Reflexivity of Advertising
Streaming music giant Spotify’s ad campaign blurs the line between fact and fiction, a meta conversation that offers the listeners less annoyance with more upgrades. Does it work?
I listen to the unpaid version of Spotify—my preferred music streaming platform—and, along with the hum of my favourite songs, I’m also inundated with the stream of advertisements. These ads promote dating apps, insurance policies, or other albums or songs… But the majority of ads I encounter are those promoting ‘Spotify Premium’—the paid, ad-free version of the same app, which also promises better quality of songs, and permits one to download them. I’ve heard these ads over a thousand times; it’s impossible to not remember these features by heart.
Recently, one of my students quipped, “All Spotify ads are about how annoying Spotify ads are!”
This comment made me consider the “self-reflexivity” of the situation. To quote from Oxford Reference, self-reflexivity is, “A term applied to literary works that openly reflect upon their own processes of artful composition”.
What exactly does this imply?
The ads may address various situations, like the experience of a wonderful road trip and listening to music without ads; or in contrast, how the ambience of a date is dampened by the ads. They are referring to the fact that Spotify ads—a category that they themselves comprise—are annoying and inconvenient.
Spotify ads are embedded within the domain of the app, and they promote the premium version by referring to the listeners’ experiences with respect to Spotify itself. They also directly address and speak to the people who are listening to music on the app. The ad is seldom a conversation solely between characters in the diegetic world of Spotify; mostly, it is content addressed by the characters in the ad world to the listener(s) (you and I). Hence, they are breaking the fourth wall which separates the internal narrative world of the ad, and the real world of the people who are listening. We are not just passive members of an audience that are experiencing an exchange between two characters; we are directly being spoken to. Sitting in our homes, cars, metros, workplaces, we are pulled into a conversation with the characters in the ads.
The ads may address various situations, like the experience of a wonderful road trip and listening to music without ads; or in contrast, how the ambience of a date is dampened by the ads. These ads, therefore, apart from breaking the fourth wall, are also providing commentary on themselves. They are referring to the fact that Spotify ads—a category that they themselves comprise—are annoying and inconvenient. This kind of reflexivity can be understood through other examples: a movie about a movie, or a photograph of a photograph. In both these cases, there is a meta component: a thing is commenting on itself.
What is even more interesting is the shift in the nature of these ads; there is something that is added in their newer versions. The original ad did comment on itself, spoke to us, and encouraged us to get Spotify Premium. However, once I heard the new variety of the ads, I realised that an additional layer of self-reflexivity had been introduced: Parts of the previous ads are played as they originally were, only to be now disrupted by the voice of an outside narrator, dissecting the ads themselves.
For example, there is an ad around a dating scenario. A woman starts off by saying “Mood lighting set thi. His favourite dish was also ready. Bollywood….” (Sound of cassette tape rewinding) A man then steps in and continues, “Bollywood mast playlist chalayi, aur ad aa gayi. Yeah, suna maine iss haadse ke baare mein, kaafi baar. That’s why I got Spotify Premium. Ad free uninterrupted music every night. Aap bhi le lo, or you’ll have to hear about her date night again, on your date night.”
The original ad is played and is interspersed with another voice referring to the annoying occurrence of ads. Essentially, a date night—which the woman hopes to spice up with a Bollywood playlist—is interrupted by an ad. The only way to have a smooth date, then, would be to get Spotify Premium. The ad reminds the listener of the nuisance of ads.
Taking matters a step further, another category of ads completely exposes the template of these very advertisements. Not only do they bring attention to Spotify ads, but also reveal the strategy that they adopt.
One such ad begins by painting an idyllic scene of rain, chai, and warm snacks. “Pyaari baarish ho rahi thi, chai pakode bhi ready the…” (Sound of cassette tape rewinding and narrator changes) “Oho phirse koi relatable situation use karke basically yeh bata rahe hain ki Spotify Premium muuah! No, really, gaane suno ad free aur download bhi karlo bindaas. Woh bhi high quality mein. In fact, sab friends ek saath suno group sessions pe. Now tell me, wasn’t this more convincing? Kyaa baarish baarish? Go go. Go get Spotify Premium before she starts again.”
Simply put, this ad mocks the ‘relatable’ scene of rain and tea and the interruption of these scene with an ad. Instead, it encourages listeners to turn to Premium to get rid of the ‘baarish’ (rain) trope altogether and listen to high quality music—with friends in group sessions.
There is also a category of ads which more directly addresses the listener, without a fictitious context like a date or a road trip. In these cases, the narrators are posed as singing or humming a song, and they then tease the audience—us—with the choice of listening to their terrible voice, instead of buying Spotify Premium. Essentially, the listener is being mocked for being ‘trapped’ with the undesirable singer—instead of enjoying the professionals in the higher-quality, ad-free versions “Best part is that I can share it with you because you’re still here,” the ad begins. “Baaki sab toh Spotify Premium par chaley gaye. Wahan ad free offline listening, high quality listening, ya group sessions enjoy kar rahein hain. But you know what, they don't have me. Spotify Premium milta hoga for just 1189 rupees prepaid for the whole year, but I’m here na, that too for free. Anyway, where was I? Oh haan you enjoy pop, I'll see you in a few.”
All put together, this is an aggressive, in-your-face advertising strategy, especially if compared with other music streaming platforms like Gaana. The audio ads on the latter app are much less frequent, and also shorter and more precise. However, it tends to have more pop up and banner ads for companies like Manyavar, Amazon, Snapchat, Cred etc. Frequency of ads promoting the paid version “Gaana Plus” are also less frequent as compared to Spotify. A simple “Gaana Plus subscription 50 percent off pe bas aapke liye” sometimes appears either as an audio or pop-up ad. They lack the level of reflexivity entailed in Spotify.
Spotify’s recent video ad, featuring the actress Deepika Padukone, is yet another attempt at achieving reflexivity. In this we enter a “behind the scenes” scenario, in which Padukone’s manager tells her that she’s been chosen to do the Spotify ad. When we enter this seemingly “real” space and situation, the presence of the camera is initially not acknowledged. It has a voyeuristic presence; of providing the viewers an entry into Padukone’s room. However, Padukone’s direct mischievous gaze at the camera towards the end breaks the fourth wall, thereby shattering the “authenticity” of the situation. This gaze explains to the viewers that she’s aware of being filmed; that there is indeed nothing “organic” about this exchange, and that it is rather a curation camouflaged within a facade of realness.
Comparing this to a video ad campaign by Gaana, the latter’s ads target the ease of music streaming as opposed to downloading music online. The scene shows the ability to instantly play a song during a marriage proposal. In another ad, the lack of instant streaming is equated with awkward silence at a date, a road trip, an office party and sangeet function. Most ads end with their jingle “Bas bajna chahiye gaana” (The song should just play) and I often find myself humming this catchy jingle. The conversations in these ads are between the characters within the narrative space of the ad, and as far as I noticed, they do not address the viewers. While the audio ads for Gaana Plus do address the listener, the video ads don’t do the same.
I didn’t encounter any video ads by Gaana promoting their paid version. This app mostly encourages listeners to download their app and stream music. Spotify, on the other hand, features a mix of ads promoting both Premium and standard versions. One Spotify Premium video ad actually mocks various other advertisements for products like skin care creams, toothpaste, washing powder and soap, and interspersing this visual with the narrator dismissing all commercials: “Ads ki chik-chik, ads ki ghit-pit, ads ki choo-choo band”.
Thus, unlike Gaana, Spotify’s ads are not afraid to experiment with blurring the lines between the real and fictitious, or foregrounding their own performativity.
What’s ironic, however, is that while I appreciate both the creativity of Spotify, as well as Gaana’s directness and precision, neither’s ad campaign has been successful in pushing me to purchase the paid version. Perhaps ‘average’ listeners like me are still contentedly settled in the zone of the advertorial nuisance, choosing to live with interruptions in their road trips, dates and parties—despite being encouraged otherwise.
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Shambhavi Gupta holds a Masters in Sociology and is currently involved in the field of education. She is a classical dancer and is fond of singing. Her writing attempts to integrate her creative interests with her academic background. She can be found on Instagram: @shambawamba23.
