Performative Software Demos
Some Vendors Master the Score. Others Mistake Sound for Skill.
As an analyst, I’ve sat through more vendor demos than I can count. Procurement briefings. Product showcases. Back-to-back walk-throughs of the same 12 functions. I’m spoilt for experience. Attuned to language. Wired for sound.
Software demonstrations can have a strange rhythm. On the surface, every vendor plays the same functional song: procurement, ledgers, assets, timesheets, forms, permissions, workflows, reporting.
The melody rarely changes. But the performance does. Some play out like a looped pop song. Others hit like a symphony. You can hear the difference before you even realise what you're hearing.
What I have come to appreciate over time is that it’s not the software. It’s how the system is played. Some vendors arrive with a feature list and a stopwatch. They race through every function to prove they can tick every box. It’s technically correct, like someone playing scales on a keyboard. Every note in the right place. But there is no soul. No story. No point.
Others arrive with a scene. They don’t begin with the software. They begin with a situation. A staff member at a desk on a Monday morning. An asset that’s broken. A customer waiting. They throw a stone into the pond. Then trace the ripple, playing it out like a score. Each step unfolding into the next. Same software. Same fields. Same forms. But it feels different. Because someone remembered to keep it human.
They don’t just show you what the system does. They show you what it means when it works. They don’t perform a checklist. They conduct a moment. And that’s when a demo moves from noise to music.
But there is also a more subtle moment. One that happens in the silence between slides and screens. It’s when the customer realises they’re not watching their future. They are watching someone else perform. And that’s typically where the panic sets in.
Because they too realise that what they’re seeing isn’t just software. It’s skill. A well-rehearsed team, fluent in the system’s quirks. Smooth on every transition. They make it look effortless. And the potential customer starts thinking: We’re never going to make it sing like that.
They don’t always say it. They nod, take notes, ask questions. But the doubt is forming. Who’s going to set this up? Train the team? Build the reports? Keep it humming when the consultants are gone?
That’s the moment most vendors miss. It’s not just about impressing the room. It’s about transferring belief. Not just that the system works, but that this team, in this place, can make it work too.
Too many demos focus on the composition. Not enough focus on the hands at the keyboard. You can write the most beautiful song in the world. But if no one can play it, what does it matter?
That’s the hidden test. Not whether the software can do everything. But whether the people watching can see themselves doing it. Not in theory. In practice. Under pressure. In the middle of a work week where everything has gone sideways and the system needs to hold.
The real problem isn’t that demos are too detailed. It is that they are too often soulless. Software vendors are still anchored in a world where capability is king. But as AI takes over the drudgery, auto-filling forms, routing approvals, managing data flows, the functional layer will become increasingly invisible. The plumbing will get handled.
What remains is the human experience. And that’s where most vendors are falling short.
The gap is growing not in technology, but in storytelling. In confidence. In emotional design. The winners won’t be the ones with the longest feature list. They’ll be the ones who can orchestrate meaning, who understand how to make people feel something about the systems they use.
We don’t need more left-brain logic in IT. We need more composers. More directors. People who can move from showing what the system can do, to helping clients believe in what it should do, and imagine what it will feel like when it does.
Because software vendors are like musicians. But not all musicians are the same. Some rush the tempo. Others let the silence do its work. Some flood the room with noise. Others draw you in with restraint. Some sell you on sound. The best help you hear.
The great ones? They make you believe you could play too.
And that’s the point. The best demos don’t just leave you impressed. They leave you clear on what fits, what matters, and what’s real. Because at the end of the day most companies aren’t looking to buy a feature set. They’re buying a soundtrack. And if it’s going to be the soundtrack of their organisation, it better be something they want to hear.
🔒Behind the Demo Curtain – A 12-Pt Field Guide for Vendors
From someone who continues to see it all.