Latest / Brand Storytelling with Fexingo: Narrative, Mission, and Stories That Sell / How Liquid Death Rewrote Beverage Marketing
Transcript
- Lucas: There's a canned water company worth seven hundred million dollars that literally sells tap water. And the reason people pay three bucks for it has almost nothing to do with the water. Luna: You're talking about Liquid Death. Lucas: Liquid Death. It launched in 2019 with a name that sounds like a thrash metal band and a mission statement that reads like a punk-rock manifesto: 'murder your thirst.' And within four years, it was the number one water brand on Amazon. Luna: I remember when the cans first started showing up at concerts. They look like tallboys of cheap beer. I actually thought they were beer for a second. Lucas: That's the whole point. The tallboy can, the skull and crossbones aesthetic, the tagline 'death to plastic' — it's all designed to signal rebellion. But here's the thing: the product is literally filtered tap water. The only innovation is the narrative. Luna: So the brand story is doing all the heavy lifting. Lucas: Exactly. And I want to spend this episode on the mechanics of that story. Because a lot of people see Liquid Death and think it's just a gimmick. But when you look at the actual choices founder Mike Cessario made, it's a masterclass in narrative-driven branding. Luna: What's the first choice that stood out to you? Lucas: The decision to not sell the product on the product's merits. Most beverage startups lead with health — 'alkaline,' 'electrolyte-infused,' 'pH-balanced.' Liquid Death never does that. They never talk about the water. They talk about the enemy: plastic. Luna: So the villain is single-use plastic bottles, not thirst. Lucas: Right. And that's a classic storytelling move: you need a villain to create a hero. Liquid Death positions itself as the weapon in a war against plastic pollution. Every can sold is framed as a small act of rebellion. That's a lot more compelling than 'our water comes from an aquifer in Austria.' Luna: And the cans themselves are aluminum, which is infinitely recyclable. So the packaging actually supports the story. Lucas: It does. But here's where it gets really clever: Cessario knew that traditional advertising is expensive and often ignored, especially by Gen Z. So instead of buying Super Bowl spots, he built a brand that would generate its own content and its own media coverage. The brand became entertainment. Luna: Like the 'Liquid Death Country Club' — which is just a monthly subscription service, but it's branded as an exclusive club for 'deadheads.' Lucas: Exactly. Or the time they released a 'cemetery' of limited-edition cans as a charity fundraiser. Or the live events where they literally have a 'death drop' — a person in a coffin suspended from a crane. It's performance art, but it's also marketing. And it's all earned media because it's so weird and shareable. Luna: I want to push back a little though. The shtick is fun, but does it have longevity? Can a brand built on irreverence survive when the novelty fades? Lucas: That's the right question. And I think the answer depends on whether the story evolves. Liquid Death's early narrative was pure shock value. But recently, they've started layering in a more serious mission. They donate a portion of profits to fight plastic pollution. They've become the official water of some music festivals that ban single-use plastics. The story is maturing. Luna: So the initial hook gets you in, but the mission keeps you around. Lucas: That's the ideal arc for any narrative-driven brand. You need a threshold that's low enough for someone to take a first look — a funny can, a provocative name — and then a deeper reason to stay. For Liquid Death, the deeper reason is environmental action. And they're smart enough to keep connecting that mission back to the brand's personality. Luna: I think there's a lesson here for B2B brands too. In a category that's perceived as boring, the same principle applies. Lucas: Hundred percent. If you're selling enterprise software, you can't lead with 'we have a better dashboard.' You need a villain — maybe 'spreadsheet chaos' or 'compliance risk.' You need a narrative that makes your customer the hero and your product the weapon. A lot of B2B brands are afraid to have a personality because they think it's unprofessional. But professionalism and story aren't opposites. Luna: If today's episode was useful to you and you want to keep it ad-free, buy me a coffee dot com slash fexingo helps. Lucas: It really does. Even a small contribution directly supports the research and production time we put into every episode. Luna: So back to Liquid Death. One thing I find fascinating is that they almost never use influencers in the traditional sense. Lucas: Right. They don't pay celebrities to hold up the can. Instead, they create content that fans want to share. They've built what Cessario calls a 'media company that happens to sell water.' They have a YouTube channel with millions of views, a podcast, a line of merchandise. The water is almost secondary to the content. Luna: And the content is all on-brand. It's dark humor, heavy metal, irreverent. They never break character. Lucas: That's crucial. Brand consistency isn't just about using the same logo. It's about maintaining the same narrative voice in every touchpoint. Liquid Death's social media sounds exactly like its can copy sounds exactly like its customer service replies. The voice is distinctive, and it never wavers. Luna: I think that's harder than it looks. A lot of brands try to be funny or edgy and end up cringey. Lucas: The difference is that Liquid Death's humor comes from a genuine place. Cessario was a creative director in advertising. He understood that audiences can smell inauthenticity. So the brand's irreverence isn't a marketing tactic — it's the actual personality of the founder and the team. They're not pretending to be punk; they are punk. Luna: There's a famous quote from Cessario: 'We're not trying to be the coolest water brand. We're trying to be the most entertaining.' Lucas: Exactly. And that's a completely different metric for success. Most beverage companies measure market share and distribution. Liquid Death measures cultural impact: how many mentions, how many memes, how many people are talking about it. And that earned attention is what drives trial, which then drives repeat purchase if the product is good enough. Luna: But they also had to nail the basics. The water has to taste good. The can has to feel good in your hand. Lucas: Absolutely. The narrative gets people in the door, but the product experience keeps them there. And Liquid Death's water is good — it's filtered, it's crisp, it's consistent. But if it tasted bad, no amount of storytelling would save the brand. So the lesson is: you need both. The story is the engine, but the product is the fuel. Luna: How much of their growth do you think is attributable to the rise of 'brand-as-entertainment' as a broader trend? Lucas: A lot. Consumers, especially younger ones, have become immune to traditional advertising. They skip pre-roll ads, they ignore billboards, they install ad blockers. The only way to reach them is to create something they actually want to engage with. Liquid Death understood that before most brands did. They're essentially a media company whose primary product is entertainment, and the secondary product is water. Luna: So the real innovation is the business model, not the beverage. Lucas: Right. And that's a model that can be replicated in any category. What's the boring industry that's ripe for a narrative overhaul? Insurance? Tax preparation? Office supplies? The principles are the same: find a villain, create a hero, build a personality, and treat your brand as a media property. Luna: But not every brand can be punk rock. Some stories need a different tone. Lucas: For sure. The tone has to match the audience and the founder. The key is that the tone has to be distinctive and consistent. You can be playful without being punk — like Mailchimp's absurdist humor. You can be serious without being boring — like Patagonia's activist mission. The point is to have a point of view. Luna: What's your take on the risk of the narrative overshadowing the product? If the story is too good, people might buy the can and never drink the water. Lucas: That's a real risk. But Liquid Death's numbers suggest it's not a problem. They're on track to do over one hundred million dollars in revenue this year. And they have a repeat purchase rate that's competitive with legacy water brands. So the story is driving trial, but the product is earning retention. If the story were just a gimmick, the repeat rate would be much lower. Luna: I think there's also a lesson in how they handled distribution. They started online, direct to consumer, which allowed them to build a loyal community before going retail. Lucas: Which is the opposite of the traditional beverage playbook. Most water brands fight for shelf space at Walmart from day one. Liquid Death started by selling cases on their website, which meant they controlled the entire customer experience. They could tell their story without interference from a retailer's pricing or placement decisions. Luna: And they built a fan base that was willing to pay a premium for the story. The price per can is about two to three times the cost of a standard plastic bottle of water. Lucas: Which is the dream of every brand: pricing power. When you've built a strong enough narrative, you're no longer competing on price. You're competing on meaning. People don't buy Liquid Death because they need water — they buy it because they want to signal something about themselves: that they care about the planet, that they have a sense of humor, that they're part of the rebellion. Luna: It's identity purchase. The water becomes a badge. Lucas: Exactly. And that's what separates a commodity from a brand. A commodity is interchangeable. A brand is a story you want to be part of. Liquid Death's achievement is that it turned a commodity — tap water in a can — into an identity. Luna: One more question: If you were advising a founder today who wanted to replicate this model, what's the one thing you'd tell them? Lucas: Don't start with the product. Start with the narrative. Ask yourself: what's the story that only your brand can tell? What's the villain? What's the hero? What's the personality? And then build a product that fits that story. Because if you reverse it — if you build a product first and try to invent a story afterward — it almost always feels forced. Luna: I think that's the perfect closing thought. Thanks, Lucas. Lucas: Thanks, Luna. And to our listeners — we'll see you next time with another story.