Latest / Brand Storytelling with Fexingo: Narrative, Mission, and Stories That Sell / How Liquid Death Built a Billion-Dollar Water Brand on Irony
Transcript
- Lucas: So Liquid Death just closed a $67 million funding round, bringing its valuation past a billion. And I think the most remarkable thing isn't the number—it's that they did it selling canned water with a skull on it. Luna: Right, water. The most commoditized product on earth. And they somehow convinced people to pay a premium for it by making it look like a death metal band's tour merch. Lucas: Exactly. And if these marketing conversations have sparked something you've actually used—maybe a strategy shift or a campaign idea—we'd love your support to keep the show ad-free. You can find us at buy me a coffee dot com slash fexingo. No pressure, just a way to keep this going if it's valuable to you. Luna: Yeah, absolutely. And speaking of value, let's dig into how Liquid Death pulled this off. Lucas: The founder, Mike Cessario, came from a background in advertising and entertainment. He noticed that energy drinks and sodas had all the fun branding, while water brands were all mountains and glaciers. So he thought—what if water rebelled? Luna: And he didn't just slap a logo on a can. He created an entire mythology. The brand language is pure absurdity—they call their customers 'citizens of the death club,' and their tagline is 'murder your thirst.' Lucas: Right. And that's the first narrative tactic: weaponized boredom. Cessario has said that people are bored with traditional advertising. So he gave them something to laugh at. The first big viral moment was a video where a guy smashes a plastic water bottle with a bat and screams 'I'm going to kill this water!' Luna: It's so over-the-top that it's funny. And it got millions of views. But here's the thing—the product itself is just filtered tap water in a recyclable can. The value is entirely in the story. Lucas: That's the second tactic: anti-brand branding. They deliberately mock marketing conventions. Their website has a section called 'legal lies' where they admit their water doesn't taste better. They're basically saying 'we know this is ridiculous, and you know it too, so let's enjoy the joke together.' Luna: And that authenticity—even if it's performed authenticity—builds trust. Because you're not being sold to; you're being let in on the joke. Lucas: The third tactic is what I'd call 'the funeral for water bottles.' In 2020, they ran a campaign where they pretended to hold a funeral for single-use plastic bottles. They built a coffin, had a mock eulogy, and invited fans to send in their plastic bottles to be buried. Luna: That's genius because it turns environmentalism into entertainment. Most water brands talk about sustainability in a serious, guilt-trippy way. Liquid Death made it a party. Lucas: And the funeral got so much press that it drove a 300% increase in sales that month. But here's the crucial detail—the campaign wasn't just a one-off. It became a recurring bit. They now have an annual 'world's largest water bottle funeral' event. Luna: So the narrative keeps going. And that's the difference between a viral moment and a brand. A viral moment is a spike. A brand is a sustained story. Lucas: Liquid Death also expanded beyond water. They now sell flavored sparkling water, iced tea, and even a line of merch that, last year, accounted for about 20% of their revenue. T-shirts, hoodies, skateboards—all with that same death metal aesthetic. Luna: So they're not just a beverage company; they're a lifestyle brand. If you buy a Liquid Death shirt, you're signaling that you're in on the joke. That's powerful. Lucas: And they've built a community around it. They have a fan club called the 'Death Crew' with 150,000 members. They host concerts and festivals. The brand becomes a badge of identity. Luna: Which is exactly what Harley-Davidson did, or what Supreme did. The product is almost secondary to the culture. Lucas: The financials back that up. In 2023, Liquid Death did about $130 million in revenue. By 2024, that grew to over $200 million. And they're still not profitable on paper—they invest heavily in marketing—but investors are betting that the brand equity will pay off long-term. Luna: But there's a risk. Irony can wear thin. At some point, the joke gets old. And if the competition starts copying the tone—which some already have—Liquid Death needs to evolve. Lucas: They're already testing that. They've launched a line of 'flavored death' sparkling waters with names like 'Mango Chainsaw' and 'Severed Lime.' It's the same absurdist humor, but applied to new products. Luna: And they've also done collaborations with bands like Slipknot and artists like Post Malone. That keeps the brand embedded in music culture, which is its natural habitat. Lucas: So the question is: can this model work for other categories? Could a household cleaning brand use the same anti-brand playbook? Or a financial services company? Luna: I think it's harder for products that are genuinely complex or high-stakes. With water, the product is so simple that you can joke around. With a mortgage or a medical device, irony might feel inappropriate. Lucas: Good point. But there are examples in other spaces. Remember the 'Squad' energy drink? They used a similar irreverent tone. Or even some craft beer brands that lean into self-deprecation. Luna: True. And the core lesson applies universally: people crave connection, not just products. If you can make them feel part of a story, you win. Lucas: Liquid Death's valuation is now over $1.4 billion. And there are rumors of an IPO in 2027. If that happens, it'll be one of the most unusual public offerings in history—a company that built its entire value on jokes about canned water. Luna: And ironically, they've also launched a real ETF—the Canned Water Growth Fund—which holds shares of Liquid Death and a few other beverage brands. That's almost too on-the-nose. Lucas: It's the ultimate meta-move. The joke becomes a financial product. And people are buying it. Not just the water, but the shares. That's when you know the narrative has fully taken over. Luna: So what's the one thing a marketer should take away from Liquid Death's story? Lucas: That authenticity isn't about being serious or sincere. It's about being consistent in your voice. Liquid Death never wavers. Every touchpoint—the can, the website, the customer service replies—all reinforce the same absurd personality. Luna: Consistency over time. That's the real secret. Lucas: And the willingness to commit fully to the bit. Not half-heartedly, but all the way. That's what turns a funny ad campaign into a billion-dollar brand.