Oh not you too, Bang. Why does every company lately feel they need to slap red, white and blue colors onto an energy drink? Are you really trying to corner the market of people who wear white tank tops and a cowboy hat while looking for cheap beer and sparklers at their local Wally World?
The stench of cheap produce wafts from the tall, sixteen ounce can. The taste, however, that took me in a time-machine back to the late aughts when Moxie Thunder was something you could find with decent regularity. I kinda dug that drink then, but I am not the same person now, and the world of energy drinks has matured, mutated, regressed and then evolved further. But what is so bad here? It cannot be the fruits themselves, an antiquated amalgam of blueberry, raspberry, cranberry and strawberry; those flavors by themselves could come together craft a caffeinated cocktail worth quaffing. No, what ruins the experience is the tartness, a sort of lactic sourness that calls to mind an incredibly thin-bodied yogurt without the dairy. It does not tickle your taste buds and curl the side of your lip the way a soft drink should. Instead, your head sort of jerks back, thrust away in both major bewilderment and minor disgust. There is a slight silver lining, something I would ordinarily criticize the brand for: saccharinity. Without real sugar to expand your waistline, sucralose and ace-k are exploited until your tongue cannot taste any more synthetic sweetness from any subsequent sip. This means the vulgar acidity is tampered down somewhat. I mean, it results in you savoring the insides of those colored satchels you find in coffee shops all over, but hey, sometimes stubbing your big toe is better then banging your pinkie toe.
But hey, 300 milligrams of caffeine is a pretty nice reward, huh? The three and a half hour long buzz is a good one, more impressive than anything else this dastardly drink displays. Overall, Bang American Berry tastes as bad as I imagine most Americans smell.



