First-time delegate Bruce Tweedie finds warmth, wisdom and energy at AdFest
First-time AdFest delegate Bruce Tweedie of Music Mill shares his reflections from Pattaya, capturing the atmosphere, energy and creative spirit of the festival. From chance encounters and late-night parties to thought-provoking sessions and conversations.
Walking out of the airport terminal, the tropical humidity rolls over me like a nostalgic blanket, infused with Asian herbs and spices. As always, it transports me back to the Seventies, when my first ever ride on an aeroplane delivered me to a fairytale world in a faraway land. It was like nothing I had ever experienced growing up in the dry heat of the flat plains 600 km West of Sydney, and that first moment has stayed with me forever. Back then I spent a few days in Singapore wearing a wig to avoid the heavy-handed policing of long-haired hippies, then backpacked up through Malaysia and Thailand. Slow train to Bangkok, a side trip to war-torn Cambodia, a bus on the narrow two-lane road to Chang Mai. Long slow days in a guest house on the Mekong in Luang Prabang. Kaleidoscopic images burnt so deep into my brain that it seems like yesterday. Every visit thereafter brings another dose of magic.
My wife Clare and I arrive at Pattaya a couple of days early so we can celebrate our wedding anniversary. A perfect dinner at the Caprice, sitting outside in the lush greenery. We are the only ones there, fussed over. Then after, we are lured down to the little beach by the haunting sounds of a virtuoso violin. A tiny wedding feast, a dozen people under a white canopy. A lone player standing on the sand, weaving her fantastical versions of all the wedding hits into the twilight. An unexpected privilege, an exquisite vignette. We danced a little, under the palm trees.
Then three days of immersion in the warmth of the sprawling AsiaPac advertising community. Fascinating talks. Insights into a myriad of corners of the marketing universe. Universal optimism in the face of unrelenting pressure from budgets and clients and AI. We’re not creatives, nor are we in production, we are navigators of songs – a little niche on the edge of advertising universe. Nevertheless, we love soaking up the limitless knowledge of the master practitioners. It’s not just that we continually seek to better understand the ecosystem where we live our working lives. And it’s also not just because it’s a joy to be part of an industry that is driven forward by brilliant explorers of the limits of creativity at one end, and the practicalities of daily delivery at the other. There is also this precious side benefit of sitting in conference sessions, no matter what the topic – I empty my mind to listen, which leaves room for new ideas to pop up out of nowhere. Sometimes directly related to gems of wisdom from the presenters, sometime almost random. I come away with a pile of cryptic notes on my phone, ready for the filtering when I get home.
And of course the networking. Interesting people are everywhere. Inspiring conversations with the towering intellect of Rob Sherlock, who I first met over breakfast in Hong Kong more than two decades ago. Kim Shaw, who knows everyone and has time for all of them. A deep discussion with Jim Ingram about AI implementation strategies and why are big songs still so expensive. And so many more vibrant people from all parts. We are blown away by the welcoming, the openness, the generosity of strangers. We take home connections with lots of new friends.
Not to mention the parties, every night. On Friday we co-sponsored one that was organised by our new partners, Chris and Stephen from m25. At the brilliantly quirky Aussie Bar, in an alley in the gritty heart of Pattaya, with all its chaotic magnificence. We danced until after midnight to a very loud Thai Rock band, who knew that a set list is all about making the punters smile.
The conference was a platform for universal optimism about the limitless potential of creativity, even in the face of the two shadows that loom large on the horizon. AI is discussed everywhere, on the stage and in the corridors. It is present in the craft and the strategy and the production, and everybody subscribes to the principle that if you embrace it tightly enough, everything will be ok. I do wonder though – it seems pretty obvious that if AI can do this and that and the other thing better than humans, then there could be fewer bright-eyed young creatives back here next year.
There is not much talk about the other horseman of the apocalypse. Each day the news of the war becomes more grim, slowly revealing itself as an impossibly difficult Gordian Knot. Clare and I have quiet conversations about the improbable but still possible scenario that there won’t be enough oil to get us home, and then what we might face with when we get there. But these are things that we can’t control. Right now, in the aftermath of the conference, we are having a week on the beach at Koh Samet. We will try extremely hard to cultivate our denial, so that we can enjoy this slice of paradise and hold back the reckoning for a few more days.
Adfest was outstanding. I tick the box for “exceeded my expectations”. I encourage all of you to come along next year to the 30th anniversary edition. And I tip my hat to Kem Suraphongchai and her happy army for organising such a successful event – I find it hard to get my head around the complexity of the logistical challenge, but they nailed it.
My favourite line was the message of hope from the venerable Ted Lim: “We’re not done yet”.