Why does Uber’s brand even matter?

I’ve been trying to sum up my thoughts on the new Uber identity for a couple of weeks now.

When I first saw it alongside the pending App Store update, I probably asked the same questions as most: “What’s that? Where’s the ‘U’?” A few more looks at the new Uber and I’ve already concluded that it’s unattractive, unaesthetic and unfamiliar. A stark deviation from familiar design language of apps and internet. It’s not flat or clean, nor is it simple or immediately comprehensible. Instead, it’s cryptic. The background is comprised of an arguably austere hue with thinly weighted geometric lines. It recalls the days of classical computer antiquity and such brands as Sun Microsystems. Sort of an ostentatious delusion of technological grandeur. And maybe most importantly, it comes off corporate and inhuman. An innovative company may have room to appear antiquated, if ironically. But corporate? It would seem that Uber’s PR has quite a long road ahead before they are allowed to seem any less human.

My lasting reaction was in opposition to its unfamiliarity. They forfeited the “U” for something utterly symbolic. And at first, it’s hard to tell what that symbol even symbolizes other than some representation of me, the customer, as a square node in a circle. It no longer looks like the Uber. I understand that’s part of the idea of a rebranding — to change who you are — but now I realize why most rebranding is only iterative. You at least want to be able to recognize your beloved tribe. Or so I thought. So maybe I’ll flip through Neumeier’s The Brand Gap just to double check. As someone who spent over $4,000 on Uber alone last year, I’ve officially given up on re-locating the app’s new logo every time, and ultimately settled Lyft. I haven’t looked back.

This begs the question(s): If it seems to me that Uber’s rebranding is in such poor taste, was the old brand ever really that effective? Is brand what actually drove the company’s success? A great way to understand the Uber design language is by comparison. Lyft, their most obvious competitor, shares nearly the exact same product but bares no resemblance in terms of identity. And since this is all in hindsight, it reflects what the imagery has come to mean over time, which is excatly what brand is all about.

The name Lyft is based on a colloquial for picking someone up in a car. A very literal use of common slang. An intentional misspelling is a friendly nudge to the already silly mis-en-scene, and the effect of the curved logotype is about as obvious as it is pink.

While I was pretty uninterested in Lyft’s design trajectory at first, I have to admit that they’ve since come a long way. They’ve taken away some of the more kitschy elements and replaced them with smooth gradients and an analogous purple. It seems that Lyft’s visual identity has gracefully matured, and it has without a doubt positively impacted my willingness to use their app.

The word “uber” translates to something like “superior” or “above”. The bold shape of the “U” was simple and efficient. There was some slight serif on the “U”, suggesting subtle sophistication. And combined with the dark grey color pallet, the logo evoked a sense of no-nonsense luxury. The tagline, “Everyone’s private driver,” drove the point home: democratized luxury.

So admittedly, when I first tried out Uber around three years ago, it was about satisfying that niche desire. It was hilarious to roll up to my shitty sandwhich shop job in a black towncar where a man in a black suit would step out, open my door, pop open an umbrella and walk me to the door. This was the purest joy brought about by superpowers a la the app age. And it was ultimately vindicating on those many days when Yellow Cabs would drive me insane. But that niche use would only last so long. With the introduction of Uber X and looser requirements for drivers, so came a dramatic drop in price. It wasn’t long before everyone else I knew where using Uber as well, and it wasn’t the same kind of hilarious experience. It was more of a need. People needed to get home safely when they were drunk. I didn’t drive, so I “needed” to get to work in a pinch one too many times. Uber had, whether intentionally or not, commoditized and blown up at the same time. It was as if they had filled a vacuum that nobody knew was there. It almost feels wrong to give them credit for their achievement because it feels so inevitable.

While Uber underwent a transformation from the attempted brand strategy — democratized luxury — to the resultant brand actuality — comidity — , Lyft remind largely the same in my eyes. They’ve always been the less serious, less robust and less popular helpful buddy. Uber was here to seriously solve my needs when I needed them solved. Uber was reliable, even if they treated their drivers like parasites and laws like vapor. From “God mode” scandal to the overall unfair treatment of their constituents and competitors alike, Uber never seemed to fall from grace. The word Uber became synonymous with disruption.

In light of that, it’s easy to imagine that Uber never really needed much of a branding strategy all. In truth, their brand was tactlessness and growth, but I was a customer in spite of that, not because of that. They never needed to convince anyone to adopt their culture, people just needed the product. All that was needed was an aggressive business strategy, an app that worked and a black square with a white “U”. It reminds me of Morton Salt. The design isn’t necessarily beautiful. But salt is so commoditized, and Morton is so ingrained with the public’s image of salt that people just associate Morton with that essential commodity. So if Morton suddenly changed their entire look, I wonder how many eyes would start wondering elsewhere for the first time.

That’s exactly why it’s so baffling that they would change their image. It’s usually irrelevant, outdated or suffering companies who need an identity change. Uber couldn’t be more relevant. And their new identity doesn’t seem to do much to right their wrongs. I can’t argue that they didn’t need a brand change at all, it just would have made more sense to me if it was a friendlier, more trustworthy version of what was already familiar. And like Mortan, it seems their simple and easily recognized trademark was just too entrenched to change.