Music venue and arts charity
260 employees
The Glasshouse (the artist formerly known as Sage Gateshead) has been a well-loved leader in the North East’s music scene for over 20 years, as well as an iconic feature of the Newcastle skyline.
Stop by and you can catch Self Esteem performing with Royal Northern Sinfonia, join a jazz band, learn to play the ukelele, or be the first to hear a new local artist destined for the big time. People describe their experiences there as “electrifying”, “deeply moving”, and “bloody fantastic”, calling it “my happy place” and declaring “I’m proud to be a Geordie – and this place is one of the reasons why.”
But their organisational language wasn’t living up to that dynamic reality. Despite the warmth and passion of the team, and the joy and vibrancy of their audience’s experiences, their style of communicating was bland, cold, and forgettable.
“For a long time our language was influenced – and, we now see, limited – by the patterns and habits of our sector,” identifies Fraser Anderson, Executive Director at The Glasshouse. “Perhaps we inherited a lot of it from our public sector partnership beginnings.
Also the organisation is complex and has sometimes felt like lots of mini worlds, with different programmes with different purposes talking to different audiences. On any given day we’re communicating with a funder, a 14-year-old gig goer, a world-famous artist, a 50-year-old guitar student – and trying to hold that all together and speak to everyone felt hard, so we settled for a sort of ‘neutral’ tone which we hoped would work for all our audiences (which we now realise didn’t really work for any of them!)”
When outside forces led to the need for a name change, and a wider rebranding process got underway, it seemed like the perfect moment to tackle the issue with their organisational voice.
The team realised some big changes were needed – of language and of mindset – to bring the brand’s outsides in line with its insides. Here are three of the most significant insights that came out of our work:
As a charity, The Glasshouse relies partly on public funding. And somehow, over the years, this reliance started to morph into resemblance. Although it was unspoken and unconscious, people’s writing (and even some of their behaviours and ideas) had become restricted by the norms of the public sector.
This led to a style of communicating that was all about playing it safe, blending in, and making everything sound serious, detached, and vague. In short, the opposite of what the team is actually like. They needed to shake off the shackles of the sector and take back ownership of their voice.
Practically that involved identifying and codifying the ways in which people were already using language more naturally in their everyday work, as well as exploring things like humour (and its boundaries) and how to navigate musical jargon. But the work really hinged on the team getting validation of their organisational warmth, enthusiasm, and sense of fun – and having permission to let some of that living, breathing humanity leak into their writing.
The Glasshouse is deeply committed to the region it calls home. A disproportionate number of people in the North-East face struggles with poverty, unemployment, and health – and The Glasshouse exists to make sure local people can take hold of the power music offers to practically improve their lives.
But historically their main way of communicating that was simply to rely on a constant refrain about being ‘rooted in the region’. They needed to find a more holistic way to hammer that message home. They needed to show, not tell. And the answer was that their voice itself had to embrace and embody something of the region’s character.
Of course we took care to avoid lazy stereotypes, not wanting to become a try-hard caricature. We also had to bear in mind accessibility and the global nature of their audience. Ultimately it’s been about allowing their language to offer a nod to the northern vernacular, so people walk (or scroll) away from any encounter feeling like they’ve been chatting with a local.
The Glasshouse works hard to be radically inclusive. One of their core goals is to be the most affordable music centre in Europe, leading the way in making sure things like money or background are never a barrier to enjoying world-class music.
But manifesting this strategic commitment to inclusivity in their writing had unintended consequences. As their language tried to be all things to all people, it ended up being nothing especially remarkable to anyone. Everything was bland, flattened – words no one could take issue with. ‘Must-see’. ‘Sensational’. ‘Acclaimed’. ‘Exciting’. They needed to bring the real, vivid, sometimes-divisive emotions that music elicits into the way they talked about it.
That meant looking carefully and creatively at their vocabulary - especially their adjectives. We needed to find ways for their words to tap into their audience’s experiences, both in familiar ways that people would recognise and respond to and in unfamiliar, unexpected ways that would make them curious and draw them in. At the heart of it all was the realisation that whatever else is true of music, it always makes people feel something – so the brand’s language needed to do the same.
“Now I look back on where we started, our ambitions for the project seem so small,” Fraser admits.
“I simply hoped it would deliver a clear set of voice characteristics that sat well with our new visual brand, and that we’d get a document that gave us a bit of guidance on how to bring those to life in our comms.
In reality we’ve not only got that (although in a much more detailed, meaningful, and dynamic way than I was anticipating) but we’ve also experienced a fundamental shift in our culture. The work has struck a chord with people from every single team, impacting how they see the organisation and their role in it.
In making us examine the roots from which our existing language was springing, Bethany unlocked a conversation about how happy we as an organisation were in our own skin. Going through this process has felt like an enormous exhale – a kind of collective sigh of relief, as we’ve been given the permission and the tools to be ourselves as a team and a brand. It’s changed how we talk to each other, how we treat each other, what we expect from each other. And that in turn has changed how we feel able to engage with our audiences.”
The depth of the project’s impact was ultimately down to the leadership’s willingness to see the work as an organisation-wide pursuit. They quickly realised that it wasn’t just a vanity piece or a pet project for the marketing team, but instead something that could – and should – be embedded everywhere.
“One of the things Bethany was always clear on was that this language we were developing had to go wide and deep,” reflects Fraser. “We needed to bring everything into line with it, not just the top-level marketing pieces. I don’t mind admitting that I was resistant to that at first, especially when it came to key internal documents like our strategic plan or people’s job descriptions. I know our Board were initially questioning some of the changes too, worried about protecting our prestige and not damaging important professional relationships.
But that has all completely fallen away now, as everyone has seen and felt the positives of the new voice. And it’s not just inside the organisation – from all across our audiences, including huge international funders and other leaders in our industry, we’re getting some incredibly positive feedback about how we’re expressing ourselves.”