In the world of alternative coffee branding, where attitude sells as much as aroma, two names have risen above the rest: Black Rifle Coffee Company (BRCC) and Death Wish Coffee. Both built empires by rejecting traditional café culture and embracing bold identities. Yet behind the shared edge and aggressive marketing lies a deeper tension, shaped by controversy, ideology, and two radically different visions of what a “strong” coffee brand should represent. Their stories rarely intersect publicly, but together they reveal how modern coffee culture has drifted far beyond the café and deep into the realms of politics, lifestyle branding, and internet identity.
Death Wish Coffee arrived first. Founded in 2012 in Saratoga Springs, New York, the company grew from a simple premise: the strongest coffee in the world. Its early marketing leaned into skull imagery, biker aesthetics, and the thrill of caffeine excess. When the brand won a Super Bowl commercial spot through Intuit’s “Small Business, Big Game” competition in 2016, it went from niche novelty to national sensation. Sales exploded. Retailers stocked its black bags nationwide. For a moment, Death Wish owned the rebel coffee lane, powerful brew, extreme imagery, apolitical attitude.
Then Black Rifle Coffee entered the arena in 2014, and the tone of the entire market shifted. Founded by former U.S. Army Green Beret Evan Hafer, BRCC positioned itself as a veteran-owned, pro–Second Amendment, pro–military brand with coffee as its delivery system. Its marketing was unapologetically political, its humor intentionally provocative, and its customer base fiercely loyal. Where Death Wish cultivated edge, BRCC cultivated identity. Buying the coffee became more than a beverage choice, it became a declaration.
The two brands competed indirectly at first, drawing distinct audiences despite some overlap in style. Death Wish appealed to adrenaline-driven consumers, caffeine maximalists, and people who liked dark branding without ideological commitments. Black Rifle appealed to those who resonated with veteran culture or who felt alienated by the coastal café aesthetic. Yet as both companies grew, their public trajectories diverged sharply.
Death Wish leaned into broader retail distribution, focusing on grocery stores, Amazon, and mainstream visibility. It promoted its “world’s strongest coffee” claim while slowly softening its imagery to attract a wider customer base. The brand avoided political stances, controversies, and culture wars, offering a form of rebellion that stayed comfortably within consumer-friendly lines. As specialty coffee grew more technical, Death Wish maintained a clear promise: intensity, simplicity, strength.
Black Rifle, meanwhile, experienced rapid rise, and backlash. Its marketing choices drew criticism from some mainstream outlets and generated several news cycles that challenged the company’s image. BRCC also faced scrutiny when certain fringe online groups attempted to align themselves with the brand, forcing leadership to publicly distance the company from extremist interpretations of its symbolism. Even as the brand grew, opened stores, expanded roasting operations, and went public in a SPAC merger, the controversies never fully left its orbit.
The comparison between BRCC and Death Wish intensified as both entered big-box retail and expanded product lines. Some consumers saw BRCC as a more premium offering with deeper storytelling. Others preferred Death Wish’s neutrality, strong caffeine content, and simpler narrative. In the specialty coffee world, neither brand’s marketing-heavy approach aligned closely with traditional craft-roasting culture, but both succeeded by understanding the power of identity in modern consumer behavior.
Retail analysts often view the rivalry as an example of divergent brand strategy. Death Wish built a mass-market niche: strong coffee with edgy branding but broad appeal. Black Rifle built a lifestyle movement: coffee as cultural affiliation. The success of each depends on entirely different strengths. Death Wish thrives on consistency, safety, and retail presence. Black Rifle thrives on narrative, community, and bold positioning. Their differences reveal how fragmented the coffee landscape has become, with customers increasingly choosing brands that align with personal meaning, not just flavor.
Despite speculation, there is little evidence that the companies are in direct conflict beyond sharing a consumer category. Both target different psychological triggers. Both built empires through unconventional marketing. And both shaped how younger generations think about coffee as a cultural symbol rather than a simple beverage. Their coexistence may be competitive, but it is also mutually defining: each reinforces what the other is not.
In the end, the story of Black Rifle versus Death Wish isn’t about which coffee is “stronger” or which brand is “better.” It is a story about how modern coffee companies must choose not only what they sell, but what they stand for. One brand chose intensity. The other chose identity. And together, they transformed an industry that never imagined rebels would take center stage.
Sources & Further Reading:
– SEC filings and investor documents for Black Rifle Coffee Company (BRCC)
– Forbes and Bloomberg reporting on BRCC’s public growth and controversies
– Death Wish Coffee interviews, brand history, and 2016 Super Bowl commercial coverage
– Retail distribution analysis from Business Insider and PYMNTS
– Coffee industry commentary on lifestyle branding and consumer identity
(One of many stories shared by Headcount Coffee — where mystery, history, and late-night reading meet.)
