YMCAmbrosia ... the Village People. Photograph: AP
Would Bob Marley, were he still alive, have allowed his sublime Three Little Birds to be used in TV ads for Birdseye, Ford and Right Guard deodorant? Possibly, had he found himself severely strapped for cash, but you'd like to think not.
This is just one of the myriad questions thrown up by the fantastically useful website Commercial Breaks and Beats - the self-styled "UK Television Advert Music database". I stumbled across the site while searching for information on the music used in the Becks "dancing men" advert (Flaming Lips' It Overtakes Me, if you've been wondering the same).
Searchable by artist, song title, company or chronologically, the site also includes music used in trailers, TV channel idents and as background music. And it is fascinating. Using musicians to market alcohol (the Stone Roses and Theakston's, the Jesus and Mary Chain and Guinness, MC Solaar and Kronenberg, the Pixies and Smirnoff, to name a few) seems a fairly obvious choice. But what, for instance, draws those charged with marketing Ambrosia Creamed Rice to the music of the Village People?
In such hyper-commercialised times, when the average UK rock festival resembles a marketing department's wet dream, does it stain a band's reputation if they allow their music to be used to sell humdrum products and services? People still buy Moby records, yet according to CBAB he has provided the musical backing to ads for Apple, Nokia, Jaguar, Intel, Maxwell House, Learn Direct, Nissan, Adidas, Galaxy, Rover and Renault. Moby is the king of the sell-out. He doesn't care. And neither do his fans. But then, did Moby ever have street credibility to lose?
As someone who can just about recall ludicrous school playground arguments between the older kids about which punk bands had "sold out", I suspect whether it matters or not is a complicated equation that takes in age, genre, product and public image; plus, if you and a loved one have a special song, and then it is used to sell home insurance, it is going to lose some, if not all, of its charm. Is a 13-year-old Girls Aloud fan going to be put out by the band letting one of their tunes be used by, say, Tesco? Probably not. Is a thirtysomething Killers fan going to feel somehow cheapened-by-association by the same move? Quite possibly. (As for those school lunch break punk credibility rows, the Clash were deemed to have sold out because they toured America after writing I'm So Bored With The USA. Years later, they had a Levi's ad to thank for their biggest hit. Case closed.)
I was slightly, inexplicably miffed to discover via CBAB's database that Joy Division's Atmosphere - a song that was part of the soundtrack to my formative teenage years - was used in 1999 in an ad for First Direct bank. Love Will Tear Us Apart has been used to flog Heineken. It shouldn't really matter. But it somehow does. By contrast, the use of Motorhead's Ace Of Spades - another anthem from my youth - in an ad for Pot Noodle hasn't made me think any less of Lemmy, or the song (although it never had the intended effect of making me eat a Pot Noodle). New Order have been in bed with Wrigley's and American Express. The Pogues have shaken hands with Ribena and Vauxhall. Yet, by most people's estimation, these acts remain "cool".
Exposure in a big brand ad can make a band - think Dandy Warhols, Vodafone, Bohemian Like You - or break them - anyone remember Stiltskin? Conversely, the use of an inappropriate song can make you think a company isn't quite right in its collective head. When the RAC used The Rolling Stones' Gimme Shelter it probably seemed like a good idea, taking the song title at face value. But the desolate howl of the chorus - "Rape! Murder! It's just a shot away!" - when applied to a lone female driver stuck in her broken-down car, in a deserted country lane, at night, renders the choice a little twisted.
Did the NHS ever give serious thought to using a song by a band called Wannadies? Did the people behind the ad for The Irish Times, which used Suspect Device by legendary Belfast punks Stiff Little Fingers, ever listen to the lyrics? ("I'm a suspect device the army can't defuse ... we're gonna blow up in their face!") No and, I suspect, no. As for Wonderbra employing Hanging Around by the Stranglers ... shudder. Sometimes, though, the choice is deeply wrong but also inspired; what better soundtrack for Woolworths than Ghost Town by the Specials?
The Bob Marley question, of course, applies to many deceased stars. I am confident that Jimi Hendrix did not have the Toyota Avensis in mind when he penned Voodoo Chile, and that he is waiting patiently for the day when whichever guardian of his estate cut that deal is dispatched to the afterlife.
