Vogel’s feature

Pop CultureAugust 31, 2017

The unauthorised history of the iconic Vogel’s ‘New Zealanders Overseas’ ad

Vogel’s feature

It contains one of the most memorable lines in New Zealand advertising, but what else went into making the iconic Vogel’s O.E. ad? Maha Albadrawi, with help from Lucy Zee, investigates.

This post was published in 2017.

As a kid, I watched a lot of TV. I still do, really, only now we call it ‘consuming content’ and it can be done anywhere, anytime, and almost ad-free. But just over a decade ago, we couldn’t fast forward through the ads. It may be because of this that I have a deep sense of nostalgia for Kiwi ads from around the turn of the centuryMy favourite though, by far, is the iconic Vogel’s “New Zealanders Overseas” ad.

Since it first aired in the year 2000, I’ve been mildly obsessed with it. I love everything about it: the earthy music (Chris Knox humming the tune of his 1989 hit ‘Not Given Lightly’), the archetypal Kiwis on their O.E., and the idea that food from home makes you less homesick. It all felt so authentic.

Every once in a while, someone would sassily say “It was a year ago, okay (insert name here)? Let it go!” and I would be reminded of the actress’s inspired delivery of that line. Then I’d wonder: who came up with this idea? Did they really fly a crew around the world to shoot this? Why did it resonate so well?

So I decided to investigate.

New Zealand is a small country, and the world of TV and advertising is even smaller. Luckily, I managed to parlay all of that TV watching into a career in the industry, so I figured that finding out the name of the ad agency, production company and director of the ad would be easy, right?

The director

I managed to find out that the director of the ad was Sima Urale. She may not be a household name but her work is beautiful and I’ve been a fan for a long time. In high school I was shook by her 1996 short film O Tamaiti. The film is about an 11-year-old Samoan boy who is the protector and guardian of his four younger siblings, told entirely through the perspective of the children.

A few years later, Sima came to the University of Auckland to talk to our Film Production Group. I sat enthralled as she told us about the production of the King Kapisi video ‘Subcranial Feeling’, the logistics of shooting at a swimming pool on a low budget and what motivates and inspires her.

Sima is gifted storyteller – especially of stories about people being far away from home. Her short film Coffee and Allah, about a young Ethiopian woman as she begins to navigate her new surroundings, captures the small moments of alienation which form such a big part of the immigrant experience. The Vogel’s ad is about homesick Kiwi expats, so it’s really fitting that she directed it.

Through a mutual contact, I was able to get her email address. I sent her an email but got no response. I’m hoping that this is because she’s busy, or her email’s changed, or it went to the junk folder. Not because my email was too fangirlish and she didn’t want to talk to someone who clearly has no chill.

The core cast member

On the other hand, Fraser McGregor (the London flatmate) was more than happy to talk to me about his experience on the production. Back in 2000, he was a 25 year-old Kiwi on his O.E. He’d finished uni and worked for a couple of years in Auckland before spending six months travelling around India, and had arrived in London “with absolutely no money.”

“They kind of street cast for that role,” Fraser told me. “A friend of a friend’s mother was producing it. She, via her daughter, got in touch with a whole bunch of Kiwis who were living in London. Someone turned up to my flat in London, and I kind of had to hold up a piece of bread, but I wasn’t an actor at all.”

He had just started a new job and had to pull a sickie to shoot the scene, which took half a day and was shot in someone else’s London flat. “It was all pretty ‘fly by the seat of your pants’”.

He remembers going down to the pub with Sima while the crew set up at the flat. “There was a really loose script, but I think we just ran a whole lot of different scenarios and it was kind of like ‘What would you do? Where would you put it” (in this) scenario. So we actually made it up.”

So, the casting was done by word of mouth, the London dude was actually on his O.E., and the whole scene was improvised. It doesn’t get more Kiwi than that.

The next stop for the crew was New York, to get the exterior shot of some apartments (the interior was actually shot in Parnell). Fraser remembers the crew talking about what a cushy gig it was. “It was almost as if the creatives thought ‘What’s an idea for an ad that would allow us to go for a cruise around the world, whilst shooting it?’”

Well, I was about to find out exactly how the idea came to be. Fraser put me in touch with the person who actually wrote the ad. Never, in my wildest dreams, did I think I would be talking to the person who worked on the original idea. The nerdy, 11 year-old me would have been so happy.

The writer

The man who wrote this classic ad is Oliver Green, and he currently lives in Bali with his wife and young son. At the time of writing the ad about Kiwi expats, Oliver had never lived overseas. He was at the beginning of his advertising career, and his entry into the world of advertising was pretty unorthodox.

He had been part of a rap group called Urban Disturbance in the 1990s with Zane Lowe. In 1995, the group was asked to write a rap for a Coke ad for a fee of $5,000 (about $10,000 in 2017 money). Oliver (MC Oli) was working on a building site and had never seen that much money.

From there he applied to the AWARD school, a highly competitive 12-week training programme for aspiring creatives, copywriters and art directors, then landed a job at Max TV as its creative director. Max TV was a full-time music channel, 1990s New Zealand’s answer to MTV. This lead to a job at Publicis Mojo, before he was lured over to Colenso BBDO… all the way to the Vogel’s account.

When I asked him how he came up with the idea, he says he thought about what would happen if you were to take a beloved product away from someone. “You can’t take (Vogel’s) away from them in NZ, so what happens when you take away the person from the product? That kind of reversal of situations (was what) led us to the thought of New Zealanders overseas.”

The most quoted line from the ad – “It was a year ago, okay Michael, let it go!” – came about because “we were looking for archetypes. In advertising it’s kind of shorthand. You don’t have 45 minutes to develop a character, you’ve got five seconds. You’re looking for quick characters, so she was ‘that Noo Yawk Gurl!’”

Sometimes, association with an ad spells the death of a song’s popularity. In the case of ‘Not Given Likely’, its appearance in this ad – and subsequent Vogel’s campaigns – hasn’t sullied people’s affection for the song or the artist. I asked Oliver how he decided on the music.

“I always loved that song. It said everything we wanted to say. Sometimes you can be boastful about a product, and you can get away with it if the tonality is right. It’s saying it’s you (Vogel’s) that I love, but because of the nature of the performance you kind of get away with it.”

They recorded a humming version and a whistling version, even re-recording a take in Chris Knox’s villa in Grey Lynn. That was the take that made the final cut. 

Finally, I asked Oliver why he thinks the ad has resonated with Kiwis so well. He thinks that having a great product gives you a head start. “If you can find something that’s true about the product, and add a layer of comedy on to that, you’re onto something.”

The big kicker

Oliver is now a freelance commercial director and has continued to work on New Zealand brands such as Anchor and Air New Zealand (you can view his recent work here). In fact, he recently came back to NZ to direct the new Vogel’s ad.

That’s right, the director of the new Vogel’s ad which is winning hearts everywhere is the same young upstart who wrote the script we’ve been quoting for 17 years.

My curiosity satisfied, I thanked Oliver for his time and ended the Skype call.

Knowing all the ingredients now, the success and longevity of the ad makes total sense. It was conceived by a scrappy young creative, early in his career and looking to inject authenticity into the work; brought to life by a talented storyteller; and features at least one person who was the real deal. When you consider all of that, it’s no surprise that – even 17 years later – we still can’t let it go.

Additional reporting by Lucy Zee.

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Pop CultureAugust 30, 2017

‘I definitely had a chip on my shoulder’: Matthew Bannister on the return of Sneaky Feelings

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Thirteen years after she would walk past him every morning on the way to work, Kiran Dass talks to Matthew Bannister of Sneaky Feelings about the band’s return and its place in Flying Nun folk lore.

With their bright ringing guitars, melodies, and soul-kissed pop songs, Dunedin’s Sneaky Feelings seemed to be outsiders among the diverse Flying Nun canon in the 1980s. It was very cool to like them. Aspirational, and looking more to the psychedelic West Coast than post-punk Manchester or Leeds, their songs weren’t edgy or spiky. But man, they wrote some top songs. ‘Not to Take Sides’ for example, and the brilliant ‘Throwing Stones’ which I saw as a kind of companion piece to The Doublehappys’ snotty-nosed anthem ‘I Don’t Wanna See You Again’. With its coldly spat out and not sung chorus and wobbly backing vocals, ‘Throwing Stones’ is a bloody blinder of a song.

In 1999, guitarist/vocalist Matthew Bannister wrote Positively George Street: A Personal History of Sneaky Feelings and the Dunedin Sound, an honest, juicy, vivid – and sometimes miserable, bitter-edged and overly revealing – account of his time in the band. Now, over two decades since their last show at Auckland’s Gluepot, Sneaky Feelings return with a new album Progress Junction, and shows in Hamilton and Auckland.

The cover shot of both the Sneaky Feelings compilation album ‘Positively George Street’ and the Matthew Bannister book of the same name.

The Spinoff: These shows Sneaky Feelings are playing this week in Hamilton at the Nivara Lounge and in Auckland at the Others Way Festival must be your first together in about 25 years. How did the band coming back together come about? Why now?

Matthew Bannister: There was never any rancour when we broke up, it was just circumstance. David [Pine, guitar/vocals] came back from overseas in 2014 and was keen to do something. John [Kelcher, bass] had built a home studio. So we had the means and the will to do it. Four heads are better than one.

How does it feel the four of you making music and hanging out together again?

It’s fun to play together. We could hang out together a bit more, but people have families and jobs. Maybe we should have played a few shows before we recorded because we were pretty out of practice.

What happened to Kat Tyrie, long departed original Sneaky Feelings bass player?

She was replaced by John Kelcher. I don’t know where she is now.

What do you remember about your last show in Auckland 25 years ago? What do you remember the band feeling like at that time?

It was hard work. It was the Gluepot. I played support [in Dribbling Darts] as well and, by the end, I was buggered. “I must be getting old,” I thought.

On your new album Progress Junction the band members have contributed equally, writing three songs each as well as the song ‘Don’t Come Around’, co-written by David Pine and yourself. What does each member bring to the band with their different songwriting styles?

Everyone is contributing equally now. That’s what makes the band unique. Most other bands are dictatorships, basically. Martin [Durrant, drums] has always provided a bit of soul, his songs are quite emotional. David is good with narrative. He’d been recording at home and that changed his approach, has made him more experimental. Ironically, I feel like my stuff is a bit more rock and roll, whereas in the past that was more David’s role. I guess that must be from [me] living in Hamilton. John’s developed a lot as a songwriter. He also engineered the album while playing bass, which was no mean feat.

How have you found it working together again? Has the dynamic/ease of work changed since when you were first playing together?

Good in general. Democracy means sometimes you have to compromise your own interests for the good of the group. I think playing live is more stressful for us than recording.

Tell me about the album title Progress Junction. I understand it’s a real place. What is the significance of this place to the title and to the album?

John lived near there when he was a kid. He wrote a song about the mines there, and how they wrecked the environment. “You can’t stop progress!”

With the recording and production of the record, did you approach it differently to how you used to record? What benefit of hindsight/experience did you have?

We had more time. On the other hand, we needed time to remember how to play together as a group. My feeling is that playing music is an end in itself. I’m not so hung up on making a great record. If it’s not fun, why bother? Plus, recordings don’t really have the same value now.

All four of your are fairly well spread out along the country with you living in Hamilton, Christchurch and Wellington. What were the pros and cons of this in terms of working on this new album and preparing for the shows?

It just meant me and Martin had to take a few trips to Christchurch. I just treated it like a holiday. We spent about ten days practicing in June, so we’re in reasonable shape.

I really love your now sadly out-of-print memoir Positively George Street. I read it something like seven times! (Remember, it was one of the rare books around at the time that offered an insight into that corner of music). It’s so honest, revealing and even bitter. And also sad and funny. You don’t hold back and it’s quite an immersive read. Did you get flak for it when it was published? How did people respond?

People liked it in general. They thought it was truthful and authentic even if they didn’t agree with the sentiments. I tried to make a clear distinction between facts and opinions. A few people hated it, mostly for fairly personal reasons.

In hindsight, if you were to write something like that in 2017, would you be so honest?

Probably not. I don’t feel the same now.

But I do remember being annoyed about how you dismissed Snapper, saying “if you have heard one keyboard distortion band you’ve heard them all.”

I like them more now than I did at the time. I did a lot of listening for my PhD and got into alternative music more. But I’m still basically a pop guy.

Sneaky Feelings were unfairly almost written out of or excluded from Flying Nun history. It seems like there was a kind of snobbery towards Sneaky Feelings. And it’s fair to say that you were outsiders, even though early on you were included on the Dunedin Double which showcased the label. You were different in that you sounded more American/West Cost, emotive and poppy than influenced by cool, spiky British post-punk. How did that feel at the time?

Well that was what Positively George Street was about. I definitely had a chip on my shoulder at the time. I don’t know if Positively George Street really changed anything, but it took a weight off me. And it fed into my PhD thesis, which helped me change careers.

Having said that, despite not really fitting in sonically with the other bands, who I stress to add were all diverse sound-wise, you did play with them a lot. Did it feel like an inclusive community to you?

Most people were pretty friendly. We played a lot with the Verlaines. Other musos are generally fairly non-judgemental – it was the hipsters and hangers-on that could be vicious.

I know much is made of the comparison of Sneaky Feelings to The Beatles, The Byrds, Love and soul music, but I also wondered if you were ever into Postcard Records and Orange Juice. I’m thinking of the Scottish connection [Bannister was born in Scotland and emigrated with his family to Dunedin when he was 17] and there seems to be a kinship there with Sneaky Feelings, that bright soul inflected guitar pop. I guess other bands from your ‘scene’ were probably into the other end of the Postcard scale like the noisier Josef K.

That’s true, though at the time I didn’t really see the connection. In retrospect, it seems quite obvious. I don’t know if New Zealand was ready for a Postcard band. The whole tendency was towards US and away from UK music.

In 2004 I worked at the Sunday Star-Times and every morning on my walk to work, at the same time and same spot I’d pass you on the Symonds Street overbridge and it was always a signal whether I was running late to work or not. That’s not really a question but there you go!

I must’ve been working at the University of Auckland. Was I on my bike?

Sneaky Feelings play Nirvana Lounge in Hamilton tonight (30 August) and The Others Way festival in Auckland on Friday 1 September.


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