As Super Bowl advertising becomes less about a single TV moment and more about real-time cultural participation, brands are increasingly investing in influence that plays out off of the broadcast.

This year, TikTok positioned its Clubhouse activation as a core second-screen strategy for brands. The IRL creator hub, hosted in early February, was designed to fuel platform-native content throughout the Big Game weekend by bringing together athletes, creators, and brands to collaborate on content specifically designed for the platform.

Rather than a replacement for the TV spot, TikTok designed this year’s Clubhouse to amplify Super Bowl ads through creator-led content that shaped how the game was experienced before, during, and after kickoff.

For brands like Doritos and Ulta Beauty, the approach reflects a broader shift away from reactive social posting during live TV moments and toward immersive, creator-led environments built to extend campaigns in real time.

Immersed in culture

Unlike the social war rooms of a decade ago, built to react to moments as they happen, TikTok Clubhouse is designed to place brands inside the cultural action itself, said Rema Vasan, head of North America business marketing. She described it as “bringing the For You Page to IRL.”

While Super Bowl spots are often about achieving broad reach, successful brands on TikTok aren’t just chasing views, Vasan added. The platform analyzes signals like engagement and sharing leading up to the game and customizes solutions that helps brands achieve specific goals, like consideration, interaction, or sales.

At this year’s Clubhouse, title sponsor Doritos built a sensory environment tied to its signature orange color, while Ulta Beauty’s “Game Face” headquarters focused on beauty storytelling and getting-ready rituals.

“Every brand’s execution is super custom,” Vasan said. “Their goals are different. The audience they’re looking to reach is different. And how they connect with culture and creators is going to be different.”

TikTok said engagement around Super Bowl–related content on the platform increased 13% year over year on Super Bowl Sunday and the following Monday, according to internal data.

“The game has become so much more than just the game itself,” Vasan said. “It’s become this second-screen cultural ecosystem. And what Clubhouse does really well is enable brands and fans to actively participate in it.”

Letting go of control

For Chris Bellinger, chief creative officer at PepsiCo Foods, Clubhouse’s appeal is about meeting Gen Z where they already are. “You’ve got to fish where the fish are,” he said. “Especially with Gen Z, the second screen is almost becoming the primary screen.”

But that shift requires brands to rethink how they show up on social and accept the creative trade-offs that come with creator-led spaces. Doritos has a long history with user-generated content in the Super Bowl, thanks back to its Crash the Super Bowl contests, making the brand more comfortable acting in real-time on social, Bellinger said.

That approach has delivered results for the brand: Doritos brand mentions grew 35% year-over-year during last year’s Super Bowl, while the brand added more than 200,000 new TikTok followers.

“If you’re going to get into this space, you have to let go,” he said.

For Ulta Beauty, TikTok Clubhouse is a way for the brand to participate in culture as it unfolds. According to CMO Kelly Mahoney, social platforms “shape conversation, influence trends, and give voice to authentic expression.”

“Around the Super Bowl, that means meeting people where they’re celebrating, creating, and connecting,” she continued.

But while grabbing second-screen attention is becoming critical, marketers agree that it doesn’t mean traditional Super Bowl ads aren’t still important.

“Nothing’s ever going to be a one-size-fits-all,” Bellinger said. “You’re talking to different audiences at different times for different objectives.”

In a climate where most brands would give anything for a case study boasting 10x growth, PacSun recently hit the ultimate benchmark: 200,000 pairs of jeans sold via TikTok, generating $20 million in revenue. 

But as the retailer is quickly learning, creativity without compliance is just a high-interest loan.

The very numbers that should be headlining quarterly business reviews are now being served as Exhibit A in a $43 million lawsuit from Warner Music Group. Seeking $150,000 in damages for each of the 290 instances of alleged music infringement, the label remixed a bop into a multimillion-dollar invoice anthem.

PacSun is just the latest in a growing gallery of high-profile offenders, including 14 NBA teams, Johnson & Johnson, and Chili’s. For years, the industry’s unspoken mantra has been “ask for forgiveness, not permission.” But as labels pivot from “whack-a-mole” enforcement to precise legal strikes, the industry is facing a reckoning: Our creative ambitions have outpaced our operational infrastructure.

The Business Affairs bottleneck

Working at the intersection of social and production, I see the gap daily. Social teams need to post at the speed of culture, yet “Business Affairs”—the gatekeeper of rights and clearances—remains a relic of linear advertising. We’re applying a 1990s legal framework to a 2026 feed. 

Agencies are designed to spend weeks negotiating a single track for a TV spot, but a social lead needs to post a trending reel within 30 minutes. This friction has created a dangerous vacuum where “trusting the algorithm” has replaced due diligence.

The math simply doesn’t track. It can cost between $3,000 and $5,000 to clear a single commercial track with a label for one organic post on one platform. Multiply that by more than 20 influencers—all using the same trending Drake or Beyoncé snippet—and you aren’t just looking at a budget line item. You’re looking at a fiasco.

From “mute” to modern infrastructure

With nearly 85% of TikToks relying on sound and more than 44% of users buying directly through the app, silence isn’t an option. But neither is the status quo. 

A major label recently disclosed it was tracking 22,000 brands illegally using between 10 and 20 songs per month. This is a gaping structural disconnect between how we create content and how we protect the enterprise.

Fixing this requires a fundamental shift in how we source sound. “Clearinghouses”—like Cipher and other pre-licensed libraries—are moving from niceties to requirements. These platforms are the first step toward a true ecommerce model for music. However, if you’re looking for a “see it, click it, buy it” solution for a Taylor Swift track, you won’t find one.

The barriers are deeply entrenched in the industry’s DNA. A single track often has a dozen songwriters, multiple publishers, and a record label, who all must give the green light. “Most-favored-nation” (MFN) clauses—which dictate that all rightsholders must be paid the same rate—are a massive brake on automation. A “no” from one minor songwriter could empty the whole digital cart. 

Until the industry can move toward automated, pre-negotiated bundles across a brand’s social footprint, the legal receipt will continue to outpace the creative win.

Creator-led collabs

By collaborating with artists, brands can stop borrowing trends and start owning them.

Skeptics argue that bespoke collaboration can’t scale at the speed of social. But scalability lives underneath the mainstream market. Independent music creators are often sitting on vast libraries of unreleased tracks, and they are far more agile than major labels. 

By tapping into this ecosystem, brands can move beyond superficially echoing a trend and connect with niche communities. Perhaps they can even start a trend of their own.

Intentional audio increases engagement far more effectively than a generic Top 40 snippet. It’s the difference between a travel brand using Jess Glynne’s “Hold My Hand” to create a genuine phenomenon versus an ice cream brand forcing a fit with a Drake track just because it’s “hot.” 

Facing the music

Some are holding out hope that countersuits—like DSW’s argument that platforms should be held responsible for the music in their libraries—will save the day. That is a slippery slope.

The era of “accidental” infringement is over, with labels carefully watching bottom lines. So, if your agency or brand team hasn’t updated its social-audio operations in the last 12 months, you aren’t just making content—you’re making a paper trail. 

In 2026, the only thing more expensive than a global ad campaign is a “free” song.