Love (and Lament) for Loah
Loah’s playful tagline charms, but does the rest of their messaging hit the mark? A review of the highs and lows of their brand identity and copy.
Written By 
Kris Moore
Published on 
Mar 29, 2024
6
 min. read

Introducing a new style of Sound Off, a review / op-ed of brand messaging found in the wild. If you've spotted writing that's intriguing, refreshing or downright puzzling and want to write about it, drop us a line.

Last November I was standing next to a fridge waiting for a tea in South London. In writing, that sounds much more British than it is; I really was just ordering a run-of-the-mill tea. No china cups or small sandwich towers.

Anyway, in the fridge were a few usual suspects (e.g. vino sans sulphites) and two or three shelves of beer. And sardined amongst that was a can labelled, “Loah, 0.5% Lager, Peach”. For a copywriter, it didn’t have much zest — if any. Three dry nouns, one number. But given I was still waiting, I picked it up and turned it around.

“Blue Sky Drinking”

That was the first thing I read. It’s also the first thing I loved about the low-alcoholic beer brand Loah. As a tagline, it’s clever. A blue sky makes me think of finishing a Headspace meditation, taking a big breath, walking up a mountain or just feeling great. It’s spacious, inviting and universally good. And here was a beer promising me it all in a neat three-word line that twisted a familiar phrase into something not only relevant but also theirs. It doesn’t even roll off the tongue that well, but it’s affectionately clunky and memorable because of it. 

What’s more, blue sky drinking is heading towards a feeling, albeit piggy-backed off the original phrase “blue sky thinking”. Either way, it draws a line between product and emotion. 

Whether Loah’s peach lager tastes good or not is irrelevant at this point — I feel good.

Image courtesy of Loah.

The blue sky gets cloudy

Reading on with gusto, I stumbled into the main beer blurb. Which, unfortunately, was just that. A humdrum paragraph about natural brewing, high quality and pairing hops with peaches. After such a strong start, I felt a little let down. It sounded like any other beer, made even more painful after a tagline that had done such a good job to set them apart. No blue-sky feeling in sight, or Loah — just beer fluff and a missed opportunity. But, determined to find more of the real Loah, I read on.

I’m glad I did. Loah’s nitty gritty can copy is great, translating the-boring-but-important stuff (sugar content, alcohol percentage etc.) into real things.

“0.5% ABV” into “same as your fav orange juice”.

“Under 1g sugar” into “say goodbye dentists”

“Under 50 cals” into “less cals than an apple”.

“Low gluten” into “very low, at under 10ppm”.

It’s accurate and covers the essentials, but it’s witty and much more relatable than just numbers.

That said, there are a few things to iron out. For one, I wish they didn’t spell “fave” as “fav”. I don't understand the spelling; it’s not quite phonetic and feels kind of awkward. There are also a few words they could cull without losing clarity and would maybe even add some extra cool confidence:

“Less cals than an apple”

Say goodbye dentists”

Very low, at under 10ppm”

The last one (gluten) is an interesting point. Loah only needs to talk about gluten to people who are gluten-intolerant or celiac. To them, it’s the 10ppm that matters; the magic number that says “very low” in gluten-tongue whilst also saying “we know our stuff”. It’s jargon that’s not jargon. As it stands though, it just ends up saying the same thing twice.

I also have to bring up the orange juice fact. Like most people (I think) I never knew that orange juice had any alcohol in it. It’s a worthy fact, but if most people don’t know it, it’s not relatable. Enter confusion and/or Google, but not Loah.

Aside from these split hairs though, the thinking behind the writing is good. And after confirming that orange juice is in fact  0.5% ABV, I’m smiling and heading back to Google to search for Loah.

Windows on the web

On Loah’s website, there’s more blue-sky writing, most blatantly in the repetition of their tagline but also in the body copy below it. Here it is:

AT LOAH WE BELIEVE THAT WHILE ALL GOOD IDEAS START IN THE PUB, BETTER ONES START ON A CLEAR HEAD. OPEN UP THAT WINDOW AND LET YOUR MIND RUN FREE…

It has the same refreshing, take-it-easy tone as their tagline (maybe the even-keel sentence length helps) and neither does it vilify anyone or anything. I also like that they don’t leave the comfort of the pub completely, instead using it to segue into the promise and truth of Loah: better ideas start with a clear head. This is smart because (most) people don’t buy what they don’t understand. By writing the pub into the picture, Loah is tapping into a familiar world before pushing beyond it ever so slightly to become something different.

Image courtesy of Loah.

This makes me think how Loah doesn’t rail against alcohol in the same way that so many low/non-alcoholic brands do. It doesn’t even say it’s a low-alcohol beer, just that it’s 0.5% ABV. I know they mean the same thing, but not saying it is everything. In fact, Loah still calls their beers, beers. That first can I picked up was bluntly called a lager. Whilst other brands are planting flags far away from alcohol, Loah is happily waving another, more familiar flag for those who still want a beer, just with a lower number on the back.

Nondescript descriptions

I can hear water boiling and mugs clinking, but before I sip up, a few words on Loah’s product descriptions.

Again, it’s hit and miss. Most of the description sinks into the same humdrum tone I saw on the can. There’s talk of having “carefully selected” certain hops for each and every beer, which on paper sounds comforting, but in reality, is just the very basic expectations I have of anything brewed. And after reading it three times across three beers, it feels tiring.

What I do like are the moments that Loah has paired with each beer. Their lime lager is for “lawnmower days” and “spontaneous tacos”. Their peach lager for “hazy picnics in the park”. Like blue-sky drinking, it’s inviting and by simply mentioning these moments Loah pulls on all the happy memories we have of lazy Sundays and times with friends. Granted, if you hate tacos, you’re out of luck. A wider point: there is a lot of this happening at the moment (I’m thinking of Ghia’s Berry Aperitif that’s like “a drive through Sienna at Sunset”), and there is always the argument that jumping on the linguistic bandwagon doesn’t say enough about you. But unashamedly, I still like it. There may be a time where people become fatigued with imagining far flung places, but for now describing products as moments and feelings is a fun way to help people buy into more than just a name and make products made of pixels come alive.

At risk of playing yo-yo, there is one phrase in the description of their peach lager that I really don’t like.

“Crushable”

Image courtesy of Loah.

I am splitting hairs, but it feels off kilter, especially for a low-alcohol beer brand. It’s overly macho and a teeny bit combative, even more so for — in Loah’s words — lawnmower days and hazy picnics. Few ideas jar more than heading to the park for the afternoon and then simply crushing beers one after the other. Some may argue that I’m not Loah’s audience, that maybe Loah fans like crushing beers. There might be an argument in that, but I also think people looking to the almost alcohol-free side of life are probably seeking something different than the cliches of drinking ‘culture’. Crushing beers is one of those things, and I think Loah weakens their pitch by playing too far into that world.

A final lament: I don’t like that a lot of their website copy is in capitals. Even if it is in light font, it feels like shouting, and I don’t want to be shouted at when I’m buying beer, or anything for that matter. Capital letters are less blue sky and more grey brooding storm.

The last drop

So, Loah is a mixed bag. There’s a lot to like and there are the makings of a spacious, care-free and blue-sky tone that really does feel like a hazy picnic. But there’s plenty to work on and plenty of space to gently weave that feeling into every corner, starting with “crushable” and ending with “carefully crafted”.

Tea is served.

Kris Moore is a writer based in London, soon to join the word wizards at Reed Words.

Introducing a new style of Sound Off, a review / op-ed of brand messaging found in the wild. If you've spotted writing that's intriguing, refreshing or downright puzzling and want to write about it, drop us a line.

Last November I was standing next to a fridge waiting for a tea in South London. In writing, that sounds much more British than it is; I really was just ordering a run-of-the-mill tea. No china cups or small sandwich towers.

Anyway, in the fridge were a few usual suspects (e.g. vino sans sulphites) and two or three shelves of beer. And sardined amongst that was a can labelled, “Loah, 0.5% Lager, Peach”. For a copywriter, it didn’t have much zest — if any. Three dry nouns, one number. But given I was still waiting, I picked it up and turned it around.

“Blue Sky Drinking”

That was the first thing I read. It’s also the first thing I loved about the low-alcoholic beer brand Loah. As a tagline, it’s clever. A blue sky makes me think of finishing a Headspace meditation, taking a big breath, walking up a mountain or just feeling great. It’s spacious, inviting and universally good. And here was a beer promising me it all in a neat three-word line that twisted a familiar phrase into something not only relevant but also theirs. It doesn’t even roll off the tongue that well, but it’s affectionately clunky and memorable because of it. 

What’s more, blue sky drinking is heading towards a feeling, albeit piggy-backed off the original phrase “blue sky thinking”. Either way, it draws a line between product and emotion. 

Whether Loah’s peach lager tastes good or not is irrelevant at this point — I feel good.

Image courtesy of Loah.

The blue sky gets cloudy

Reading on with gusto, I stumbled into the main beer blurb. Which, unfortunately, was just that. A humdrum paragraph about natural brewing, high quality and pairing hops with peaches. After such a strong start, I felt a little let down. It sounded like any other beer, made even more painful after a tagline that had done such a good job to set them apart. No blue-sky feeling in sight, or Loah — just beer fluff and a missed opportunity. But, determined to find more of the real Loah, I read on.

I’m glad I did. Loah’s nitty gritty can copy is great, translating the-boring-but-important stuff (sugar content, alcohol percentage etc.) into real things.

“0.5% ABV” into “same as your fav orange juice”.

“Under 1g sugar” into “say goodbye dentists”

“Under 50 cals” into “less cals than an apple”.

“Low gluten” into “very low, at under 10ppm”.

It’s accurate and covers the essentials, but it’s witty and much more relatable than just numbers.

That said, there are a few things to iron out. For one, I wish they didn’t spell “fave” as “fav”. I don't understand the spelling; it’s not quite phonetic and feels kind of awkward. There are also a few words they could cull without losing clarity and would maybe even add some extra cool confidence:

“Less cals than an apple”

Say goodbye dentists”

Very low, at under 10ppm”

The last one (gluten) is an interesting point. Loah only needs to talk about gluten to people who are gluten-intolerant or celiac. To them, it’s the 10ppm that matters; the magic number that says “very low” in gluten-tongue whilst also saying “we know our stuff”. It’s jargon that’s not jargon. As it stands though, it just ends up saying the same thing twice.

I also have to bring up the orange juice fact. Like most people (I think) I never knew that orange juice had any alcohol in it. It’s a worthy fact, but if most people don’t know it, it’s not relatable. Enter confusion and/or Google, but not Loah.

Aside from these split hairs though, the thinking behind the writing is good. And after confirming that orange juice is in fact  0.5% ABV, I’m smiling and heading back to Google to search for Loah.

Windows on the web

On Loah’s website, there’s more blue-sky writing, most blatantly in the repetition of their tagline but also in the body copy below it. Here it is:

AT LOAH WE BELIEVE THAT WHILE ALL GOOD IDEAS START IN THE PUB, BETTER ONES START ON A CLEAR HEAD. OPEN UP THAT WINDOW AND LET YOUR MIND RUN FREE…

It has the same refreshing, take-it-easy tone as their tagline (maybe the even-keel sentence length helps) and neither does it vilify anyone or anything. I also like that they don’t leave the comfort of the pub completely, instead using it to segue into the promise and truth of Loah: better ideas start with a clear head. This is smart because (most) people don’t buy what they don’t understand. By writing the pub into the picture, Loah is tapping into a familiar world before pushing beyond it ever so slightly to become something different.

Image courtesy of Loah.

This makes me think how Loah doesn’t rail against alcohol in the same way that so many low/non-alcoholic brands do. It doesn’t even say it’s a low-alcohol beer, just that it’s 0.5% ABV. I know they mean the same thing, but not saying it is everything. In fact, Loah still calls their beers, beers. That first can I picked up was bluntly called a lager. Whilst other brands are planting flags far away from alcohol, Loah is happily waving another, more familiar flag for those who still want a beer, just with a lower number on the back.

Nondescript descriptions

I can hear water boiling and mugs clinking, but before I sip up, a few words on Loah’s product descriptions.

Again, it’s hit and miss. Most of the description sinks into the same humdrum tone I saw on the can. There’s talk of having “carefully selected” certain hops for each and every beer, which on paper sounds comforting, but in reality, is just the very basic expectations I have of anything brewed. And after reading it three times across three beers, it feels tiring.

What I do like are the moments that Loah has paired with each beer. Their lime lager is for “lawnmower days” and “spontaneous tacos”. Their peach lager for “hazy picnics in the park”. Like blue-sky drinking, it’s inviting and by simply mentioning these moments Loah pulls on all the happy memories we have of lazy Sundays and times with friends. Granted, if you hate tacos, you’re out of luck. A wider point: there is a lot of this happening at the moment (I’m thinking of Ghia’s Berry Aperitif that’s like “a drive through Sienna at Sunset”), and there is always the argument that jumping on the linguistic bandwagon doesn’t say enough about you. But unashamedly, I still like it. There may be a time where people become fatigued with imagining far flung places, but for now describing products as moments and feelings is a fun way to help people buy into more than just a name and make products made of pixels come alive.

At risk of playing yo-yo, there is one phrase in the description of their peach lager that I really don’t like.

“Crushable”

Image courtesy of Loah.

I am splitting hairs, but it feels off kilter, especially for a low-alcohol beer brand. It’s overly macho and a teeny bit combative, even more so for — in Loah’s words — lawnmower days and hazy picnics. Few ideas jar more than heading to the park for the afternoon and then simply crushing beers one after the other. Some may argue that I’m not Loah’s audience, that maybe Loah fans like crushing beers. There might be an argument in that, but I also think people looking to the almost alcohol-free side of life are probably seeking something different than the cliches of drinking ‘culture’. Crushing beers is one of those things, and I think Loah weakens their pitch by playing too far into that world.

A final lament: I don’t like that a lot of their website copy is in capitals. Even if it is in light font, it feels like shouting, and I don’t want to be shouted at when I’m buying beer, or anything for that matter. Capital letters are less blue sky and more grey brooding storm.

The last drop

So, Loah is a mixed bag. There’s a lot to like and there are the makings of a spacious, care-free and blue-sky tone that really does feel like a hazy picnic. But there’s plenty to work on and plenty of space to gently weave that feeling into every corner, starting with “crushable” and ending with “carefully crafted”.

Tea is served.

Kris Moore is a writer based in London, soon to join the word wizards at Reed Words.

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