Studying my chipped manicure, I suddenly felt right badass.

And when I think badass, I think Iron Maiden.

And when I think Iron Maiden, I think about the future of building musical brands in the digital age.

You have been warned.

If you’ve seen an Iron Maiden album, you’re likely casually acquainted with the artwork of Derek Riggs, the self-taught artist who defined the visual language for Maiden’s discography and tours. Riggs’ post-apocalyptic landscapes and ghoulish, plague-like Eddie character are identifiable a mile away, even without the classic Iron Maiden industrial gothic typeface, or Riggs’ secretly placed personal logo. If you’ve seen one Maiden album, you’ll be able to eagle eye them forever, a fact that keeps Maiden’s brand Iron-Clad (throw horns here).

From fonts to freaks, Iron Maiden is only one example of how a band presents its face to the world. But what of definitive one-offs? The tongue-in-cheek call-and-response of Elvis’ First Album cover art and The Clash’s cover for London Calling, for example? The Clash may have maintained the type treatment, but they made their punk sensibilities sing by replacing Elvis with Paul Simonon smashing up his guitar during a Palladium concert. It was subversive, clever, and has since been considered one of the great album covers of all time.

But wait. These are all references from what came before. According to some, we’re in THE FUTURE. And, by most accounts, the technological Gravitron has thrown a lot of bands to the wall with the possibilities and hiccups of what their audiences are actually doing.

The upshot: being iconic is no longer simply a question of artistry.

It has also become a question of strategy.

So, in an age where going to a music store has been replaced by flipping through Cover Flow, how does a band define itself? We consume music through so many more channels now – seeking it out on band pages, giving it a test drive through Amazon, linking to it through Twitter, emails, and one-off recommendations. Whereas artwork was once inherent to discovering a band, it’s the process of discovery itself that has become instrumental (ahem) in defining the public face of a band.

Image-making in music isn’t new. Only a few years after Bowie introduced his Ziggy Stardust character, the world was brought screaming into the video age, where shock and flash became as much a trademark as a guitar riff. MTV encouraged the Madonna-whore complex, and for there it was a hop, skip and a jump to Lady Ga-Ga’s pants-optional Fifth Element vibe.

Lady Ga-Ga is one example of how album art has become a living, breathing entity. Making provocation her trademark, she has basically turned mass media into her cover art. Within 12 hours of releasing the “Telephone” video, the web was on fire with page views and blog conjecture. Lady Ga-Ga doesn’t need traditional media. She thrives beyond it. She proves that though MTV may have gone to the Jersey Shore, reality can’t kill the YouTube star.

Other avenues? The oft-contested “sell out” route of product promotion, a precarious tightrope between representing your band’s ideals, and the ideals of the brand your work helps sell. U2’s Bono established (RED) not necessarily as an extension of the band, but as a philanthropic enterprise. But, a (RED) U2 Special Edition iPod produced in conjunction with Apple meant that U2 wasn’t just producing the material, they were exercising ownership on the material their material would be played on. The donation of profits made from the (RED) partnerships to the AIDS cause perpetuated what “Sunday, Bloody Sunday” had obliquely said in the 80s: that U2 uses populism as a tool for social change. Their behaviour and alignments are their defining trait.

These are stadium sell out bands though. What of the littler guy? The indie band without paparazzi, or Steve Jobs embracing them onstage? Again, refer to the tools of the trade, and the dynamic reality of the web. OK Go were super niche only a couple of years ago. But they embraced their fun-loving geek pop, and jumped on a few treadmills for a relatively low budget crack at a music video. The upshot? Any search for “Here It Goes Again” produces millions of hits. The band has become inherently defined by the fun they have making videos. It’s impossible to determine how they could have communicated that side of themselves if restricted to set lists and iconography. And, if imitation is the highest form of flattery, thousands of fans flying off treadmills is a solid thumbs up for OK Go.

Do I argue against the power of the music itself? No. Music is the thing that fundamentally makes people feel something, think something, get carried away, or pierce their ears with safety pins. But to become established as an iconic rock or pop band in the digital age, you can’t just play the songs anymore. You have to live them.

I was raised in the Ottawa area. We moved around a little bit, but the majority of my youth was spent in Smiths Falls and Perth, Ontario, two very small towns about 40 minutes south of Ottawa. I was born in the ’70s and became of age to choose a favourite hockey team in 1983.

I was 4 years old. It was a crisp fall morning and a bunch of us were playing on the concrete playground at St. Francis De Sales school, when a debate broke out. Which team was better, the Montreal Canadiens, or the Toronto Maple Leafs. Remember, this was years before the Ottawa Senators (*spit* hutzpah) became a team. The yard quickly divided into the two, equal in number, factions. I, being the son of immigrants, did not have a favourite hockey team. The closest thing to a sport my father was into was watching Monica Seles grunt suggestively during her tennis matches. I was a clean slate. I had never seen a hockey game, and knew nothing of the teams, or the star players of that time.

The two groups noticed me in the middle, and they approached. I was the tie breaker. My vote would decide once and for all which team reigned supreme on the St. Francis playground. Jeff Carroll, a boy tall for his age, questioned: “who’s better?” Jeff was wearing a Maple Leafs hat with their logo prominently displayed in the front.

“Ya, you need to decide! Who do you like better?” added Nick Feeley. Nick was an average-sized boy donning a Montreal Canadiens hat.

I felt immense pressure as the two groups of boys hung on my next words. I knew nothing of these teams, I didn’t even know which logo belonged to what team. But I do know which one I liked better. I pointed at Nick’s hat. “Which team is that?” I asked. “The Habs” one voice replied.

“Ya, the Canadiens,” another said. “I like them better,” I said.

One group erupted with jubilation, the other with disgust. But that doesn’t matter. What matters is from that moment on I was a Habs fan. That year I watched as Patrick Roy led the Habs to a cup. I’ve watched them religiously since. I have bought tickets to their games. I have bought their merchandise. Now my children are Habs fans, and they watch the games with me. With the same fervour and excitement they stare at the screen, wearing their Habs sweaters.

Two generations, sure to turn to three and four, consume the product that is the Montreal Canadiens. All due to effective branding . . . and a Hall of Fame goaltender.

How do you measure up to the models in the magazines?

If the question is increasingly on the mind of the public consciousness – and it seems to be – it’s also making its way onto the stages of public policy. And it may well have implications for the design industry.

Government and advertising standards groups are increasingly bringing up media’s role in shaping youth body image. They argue that children aren’t aware that most mainstream images of beauty have been “enhanced.” This creates unrealistic and unachievable ideals that they say lead kids to think if they starve themselves they can reach levels of thinness that equate to beauty.

French MPs are already fighting to have a law passed that requires warning labels to be added to retouched photos, much like the labels on Canadian cigarette packaging.

As if to fuel the zeitgeist, there’s been a recent uptick in leaked “unretouched” photos popping up on the Internet, one of the most famous being of Madonna. Celebrities from Britney Spears to Kim Kardashian are purposely leaking untouched photos of themselves. Why? Who knows. But perhaps they’re doing their bit to combat the harsh body image stereotypes they themselves have been so complicit in manufacturing.

Is it a brand’s responsibility to warn their consumers against the spectra of false body imagery? Or should it be a matter of regulation? Both?