I like writing decks.
I like classical music.
I say those things fully understanding that both of those statements could, in the minds of many, qualify me as a proper, certifiable weirdo and an irredeemable snob.
As Ezra Klein and Brian Eno recently discussed on Ezra’s podcast, fine art (which I’m assuming includes classical music) doesn’t really appeal to people anymore, which I get. And it’s very chic to “hate decks” - I’ve seen more than a few LinkedIn diatribes on this. So if you’ve read this far, thank you.
So no one likes classical music and everyone hates decks.
So why am I talking about these two things?
First, let’s start with why I like writing decks.
To be clear, there are a lot of terrible decks. Awful, mind-numbing, soul-destroying decks. We’ve all seen them, we’ve all experienced them, we all probably have contributed to them, and on a really, really bad day, we might have been the authors of them.
But a deck is the language of business and when a deck shines, it makes shit happen. And as strategists, we should be obsessed with our work not just being pretty, but making shit happen.
A great deck is not a collection of data points lined up in the logical sequence, but rather a story that you are sharing with another person. It has drama, it has suspense, it has tension, it has resolution; and most importantly, it creates a path forward and makes people want to take that path. It can bring clarity and life to a project, a client or a team.
Now, anyone that follows me knows that I’m all about storytelling - it has rooted my work for decades. And frankly, I’m quite happy that the pendulum is swinging back towards people understanding that stories actually fucking matter. I will happily wax on about all the ways that the tenets of storytelling, the principles and patterns that you find in tales from Gilgamesh onwards, can drive our own storytelling, deck writing and brand building into more powerful places.
But today I want to talk about something that, when woven into the storytelling approach, really makes a deck come alive: rhythm.
Great decks have a rhythm to them.
They often open with intrigue, surge forward, hold back at times, do the hard-hitting wham moments and also take time to settle and simmer, letting the audience mull and imagine. And on they go, where the best ones feel like they’re rollicking in a flow that both encompasses and pulls the story along.
I love a deck like that, a deck that fully embraces the magic and momentum of rhythm. I love writing them. I love experiencing them. I love seeing what happens to teams and leaders when that rhythm unlocks ideas of what’s possible. That vibrant rhythm, infused into a compelling story, makes for the kinds of decks that move organizations.
Because, when it comes to the dance of work, nothing is more soul-destroying than a smart story being annihilated by a plodding, ponderous presentation that hits the same “notes” over and over again. Have you sat through a presentation where every slide behaves the same, looks the same, is constructed the same? Where the energy never shifts and the lay-out never changes from 32 point headline font and 12 point, bulleted copy?
It’s hell.
It doesn’t have to be that way.
And music can help us create a better way.
So back to classical music. Classical music has this dynamic rhythm in spades. Why? It’s written to not only hold the audience’s attention, but to move them for a longer amount of time.
This is so counter to what we’re used to: typical streaming-friendly, popular songs are about four minutes long and the structure of these songs is something along lines of verse, chorus, bridge, verse, chorus, outro (with some variation).
Classical pieces are totally different. First of all, they last 10 minutes, 20, 30… hell if you’re going to an opera, three or four hours. And because of their length, they require a lot more dynamism to sustain attention - more ingredients, more moments, more gear shifts, more juice. There is greater energetic variation and a deep understanding of rhythmic play.
This rhythmic play is a valuable instinct to embed into your work. Because think about it - when’s the last time you had a proper presentation that was only four minutes long? Sure there are the times when to kick things off, the strategist goes through a few slides in a few minutes and the rest of the team is off the races and yada yada yada.
But at some point, every strategist has that meeting where it is on, the assignment is legit, the strategy needs are real and the strategy presentation needs to sing for at least 10 minutes, maybe 20… maybe more. And for those moments, classical music and its dynamic flow can be a secret-weapon teacher in how we craft our presentations so that our audiences not only stay with us, but have an emotional experience that carries them through the thinking to the doing of the recommendation.
A mini-version of dynamic rhythm, compacted into a song, is Bohemian Rhapsody. So if a longer piece is too much to start (and if so, that’s totally fine), listen to that a few times and pay attention to the different moments, moods and transitions and the emotional arc that it creates.
Another proxy to classical music is to listen to a properly crafted, brilliant album end to end. Beyonce’s Lemonade is one of those. I’m also a big fan of The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill or Insides by Jon Hopkins for that full arc album experience.
But back to classical music.
I know we don’t like this music but humor me, give it a shot.
Pick a piece, and listen.
Here’s an important thing: after you pick a piece, don’t just listen to it once. To truly get it and feel it, it needs time to soak into you. So listen to it at least 10 times. Listen to it in the background while you’re doing your thing, do a listen or two when it has your full attention. Take a walk and listen to it while your body is moving.
Listen to it until it settles into the marrow of your bones and your molecules swoop and swoon along with the permutations of the piece, until the piece is IN you and you can really feel how it moves and grips and sustains.
You will feel it; it will teach you.
It will teach you the power of a swelling emotional crescendo, of the quiet that is needed after a big moment, how playfulness makes the serious stuff hit harder and the acceleration in energy that’s needed to take people from dreaming to doing. These are all elements that are germane to classical music and also happen to make for a great deck.
These elements and how they’re worked into a dynamic rhythm is not something that can be boiled down to a framework or a formula; I can’t write in this post “first do a slide like this, then do 3 slides like this and then do one that does this”. It doesn’t work like that (although I’m sure some AI will tell you it does and then do it for you in an uncanny way that will feel about 10 degrees off).
Rather this understanding of rhythm, of moments, of an audience experience is something that you feel in your bones. And spending time with the masters of that instinct - the classical composers and their life’s work - is a fast (and beautiful and soul-elevating) way for you to develop that instinct as well.
With that instinct now in you, when you are facing a blank presentation, let the lessons of your piece guide the story you need to tell and the rally you aim to create. Write, step away, come back. Talk the deck out loud. Listen to the flows. Make the deck smart, but also make it something that people can feel.
Here are a few classical pieces that I have a marrow-relationship with, that have taught me sustaining rhythm through their brilliance:
If you want something hella emo, Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto #3 in D Minor hits. The Russian composers tend to be good at the high drama, high emotion stuff and this Concerto is so “rip my heart out and weep and then fall in love again.”
It may be cliche as hell, but I have listened to Beethoven’s 5th and 9th Symphonies over and over again (this animation of the 5th shows the dynamism so frickin’ well). There’s a reason we all know at least snippets of these pieces - they are iconic, huge, soul-lifting and when listened to end-to-end, electrifying. And the added bonus of these? You’ll feel hope, which I don’t think that’s the worst thing these days.
I love the cello, so I’d be remiss to not put in Bach’s Cello Suites, especially #1. I love a Yo-Yo Ma recording, like this one, where there is no accompaniment - it’s inspiring to see how one instrument (versus a full orchestra) can carry the story.
So remember, the best decks don’t just present data; they create a rally. Your challenge, should you choose to accept it, is simple: find a piece, feel the rhythm until it settles into your bones, and then let that dynamic flow teach you. And then face that blank slide and create an experience of a presentation that’s unforgettable.
🤘