Cash Cows. They’re the kind of killer-products that every company craves.
Yet Japan’s premiere blue-chip companies have become increasingly unable to provide “the next big thing.”
Take Sony for example—a decade ago Sony seemed impervious to skeptics of its continued growth. Sony’s walkman and high-resolution televisions were taking the world by storm, and it seemed like no competitor could match Sony’s sleek, hip products.
But now Sony’s grip on all-things-electronic has been attacked by all fronts: Apple has taken the lead in portable music players, Samsung’s LG has taken home the winning gold in preferred television units, and to add insult to injury, Sony’s Vaio laptops have become increasingly MIA from store shelves around the world (no, they aren’t going Dell’s way of online custom-orders, they’re simply deep in the red.)
For all of Sony’s dismal performance of late, Sony still has incredible technological capabilities. The Play Station 3, like the Play Station 2, set the world-standard in next-generation video recording through its Blue-Ray ready drives. Sony’s laptops, though increasingly harder to come across, are so sleek they’d serve as paper cutters. The company’s R&D labs have some of the world’s finest engineers, many of them with decades of experience in the audio, visual, and entertainment industries.
Why then, are Sony’s products doing so poorly? Seth Godin, a marketing guru, says that to conceptualize, create, and market a cash cow, one has to get rid of all the P’s in marketing (like Pricing, Promotion, Positioning, Packaging, etc.)
All companies have to focus is the new P—the Purple Cow.
Here’s Seth’s anecdote about Purple Cows, in—surprise!—his book Purple Cow:
“When my family and I were driving through France a few years ago, we were enchanted by the hundreds of storybook cows grazing on picturesque pastures right next to the highway. For dozens of kilometers, we all gazed out the window, marveling about how beautiful everything was. Then, within twenty minutes, we started ignoring the cows. The new cows were just like the old cows, and what once was amazing was now common. Worse than common. It was boring.” (p.2).
He then goes on to drive his point ruthlessly to the reader, just in case anyone missed his point the first time around:
“Cows, after you’ve seen them for a while, are boring. They may be perfect cows, attractive cows, cows with great personalities, cows lit by beautiful light, but they’re still boring. A Purple Cow, though. Now that would be interesting.” (p.2).
The point that Seth Godin is trying to make is that a good product just doesn’t quite cut it anymore. The product has to be remarkable. Sony’s walkman had good design and offered good sound. Apple’s iPod may not have delivered better sound quality (in fact, it was probably worse), but the clickwheel? Now that was remarkable, and that was worthy of being called a Purple Cow.
What do today’s remarkable companies all have in common? They’ve got Purple Cow mindsets. They aren’t playing it safe. They aren’t kissing up to the status quo. They are, as Seth Godin observes, “outliers. They’re on the fringes. Super-fast or super-slow. Very exclusive or very cheap. Very big or very small […] the leader is the leader because he did something remarkable.” (p.20).
Sony’s predicament provides a case in point for Japan’s economy as a whole—Japan has all the technological expertise to make a plethora of remarkable products. Yet it just can’t seem to deliver, and it’s because Japan played it safe for the past two decades.
It’s time Japan decided to take one big, audacious gamble.
It’s time Japan decided to become a Purple Cow.
//By Ryo TAKAHASHI