From Garage Rebels to Global Giants
Back in 2007, BrewDog was exactly what UK beer needed. James Watt and Martin Dickie started brewing in a garage in Ellon, Scotland, with one mission – to make people care about great beer again. They launched Punk IPA, 5AM Saint, and Dead Pony Club, and suddenly, lager drinkers everywhere were talking about hops.
They had swagger. They swore on camera. They called out “bland corporate brewers” and promised to shake up the system. And it worked. Through their Equity for Punks crowdfunding campaigns, they turned drinkers into shareholders, opened bars across the country, and built a brand around rebellion and authenticity. For a while, it felt like they could do no wrong.
When the Rebel Becomes the Establishment
Then, at some point, they stopped being the rebels and became the establishment. The brewery grew into a global brand with bars in Berlin, Tokyo, and Las Vegas. Supermarkets were filled with BrewDog cans. They went from scrappy upstart to polished powerhouse, and that’s when cracks began to show.
The marketing team kept shouting “punk” but the beers didn’t feel punk anymore, it doesn't feel punk anymore. Public accusations about the company’s culture and greenwashing didn’t help. Fans who once loved the raw, outspoken BrewDog started to feel like they were watching a band that had gone mainstream. It wasn’t just image, either ... the beer itself was changing.
The Great ABV Drop
If you’ve been drinking BrewDog for a while, you’ll have noticed something. The beers just don’t hit like they used to. Punk IPA has slipped from 6% to 5.4%. Elvis Juice went from 6.5% to 5.1% (only to revert it back to 6.5% after a public backlash). Hazy Jane dropped from 7.2% to 5% (OK, they replace the 7.2% 'Jane' with a double IPA, but the damage was done, and fans started to turn away. On paper, these may seem like only a few decimal points, but in your glass, it’s a big difference.
The flavour is lighter, the body thinner, and the bitterness doesn’t bite like before. BrewDog say it’s about drinkability and consistency. Maybe. But for many fans, it feels like cost-cutting dressed up as evolution.
When people buy Punk IPA, they’re buying into what it used to stand for, a bold, unapologetic craft beer that took no prisoners. Now, it feels like BrewDog’s edging closer to being the kind of brand it once swore to destroy.
Gimmicks Over Greatness
If the ABV drops annoyed fans, the constant stream of novelty beers has confused them. In the last few years, BrewDog’s output has been relentless, dessert stouts, cocktail-inspired sours, beers with cartoon labels, and collaborations that feel more about marketing than brewing. Experimentation was once their strength, but when everything’s a gimmick, nothing stands out, their King Crush Double Milkshake IPA is a testament to that!
Their recent Counter Strike release sums it up. Marketed as a “classic West Coast IPA” it was meant to show BrewDog could still deliver a straight-up style without the fluff. Instead, it fell a little flat. There was a hint of citrus and a whisper of pine, but no real punch, no bite, and none of the bitterness or depth you expect from the style.
It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t BrewDog good. And that’s the problem, they’ve built a reputation on beers with attitude, not ones that blend into the background.
Losing Touch With the Core Fans
BrewDog used to feel like a movement. They spoke directly to drinkers who wanted something different, something honest. Now, the communication feels corporate, managed, and a bit hollow. The tone has changed, the branding looks slick, but it’s lost its edge.
Meanwhile, smaller independent breweries have stepped into the space BrewDog once owned. Verdant, Deya, Track, Beak, all are doing what BrewDog used to do best: taking risks, making bold beers, and talking to drinkers like real people. These brewers feel authentic, while BrewDog feels like it’s chasing trends. They’re still huge, but the soul of the craft movement has moved on without them.
The Money Problem
The shift isn’t just about taste; it’s showing up in the numbers too. BrewDog’s 2024 financial results told a worrying story. Sales dipped, profits fell, and investors started to get nervous. They’ve closed bars, scaled back expansion, and admitted they need to refocus. For a company that once promised to “make other brewers irrelevant” that’s a bitter pill to swallow.
It’s not hard to see what’s happened. They grew too quickly. When you’re brewing millions of pints a week, consistency starts to trump creativity. Scaling up that fast means compromise, and that’s how you end up with beers that taste safe instead of special.
When You Please Everyone, You Please No One
There’s a clear identity crisis going on. BrewDog used to brew for the misfits and the passionate few. Now they’re trying to keep supermarket shoppers happy, investors comfortable, and craft drinkers interested, and it’s too many plates to spin.
You can’t be the face of rebellion and the face of Tesco’s beer aisle at the same time. Every time they release another mango cheesecake IPA or cut the strength of a core beer, that contradiction becomes more obvious. It’s not that people hate BrewDog. It’s that they don’t know what BrewDog stands for anymore.
Can They Turn It Around?
The short answer is yes, but only if they strip things back. The brewing talent is still there. They’ve got world-class kit, distribution, and resources most independent brewers would dream of. What they need is a reset ... to remember what made them great.
Bring back the original Punk IPA at 6%, not as a gimmick, but as a statement of intent. Focus on a smaller, stronger core range. Brew beers with depth, not desserts. Stop chasing Instagram fads and start caring again about flavour. Drinkers don’t want another “birthday cake IPA” They want a proper pint that tastes like passion and intent went into it. That’s how you win them back.
My Closing Statement ...
BrewDog changed British beer forever. That’s not up for debate. But right now, they feel like a band still playing the hits, only slower, softer, and without the spark (Have the punks turned into aging hasbeens already!). It’s a shame, because the potential is still there. If they can rediscover their edge and start brewing with conviction again, they could lead the charge once more.
Until then, too many drinkers will keep looking elsewhere. And for a brewery that once prided itself on being the loudest, most daring voice in the room, that silence is deafening.
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