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In mid September I attended one of the greatest cultural events of my young life. Louisville’s Bourbon and Beyond is a celebration of good food, good music, and, of course, good bourbon. A festival rooted in the identity of Louisville, Bourbon and Beyond brought together people from numerous backgrounds into an epicenter of culture from which connection could be made: a miracle in its own right in this day and age. After weeks of preparation: who was I going with? How much gatorade and bottled water do I need to buy? And how much school work do I need to complete in order to spend four days in the Kentucky Expo Center Fairgrounds with minimal service surrounded by a sea of strangers? The time was finally coming. I was thrilled to be seeing some of my favorite acts there: Jack White, Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit, Brandi Carlisle, Lukas Nelson, and most importantly, Pearl Jam.
Pearl Jam. For those who aren’t familiar with the 90s grunge legends, they’re one of the most beloved and anticipated live acts even to this day. With a legion of followers, Grateful Deadesque, in their migrating behaviors, Pearl Jam fans will travel far and wide to see the band perform. The festival began on Thursday night and Pearl Jam performed on Saturday night as the main headliner, but it became clear the first night I was there that everything was icing on the cake leading up to the Pearl Jam performance. Thursday night I spoke with a couple from Portland, Oregon who had flown all the way from their pacific northwest home to Louisville, Kentucky just to see Pearl Jam. They had even informed me that they were considering missing Friday night in order to see Pearl Jam in Nashville. Woah, these guys are die-hards. They had even told me of a gentleman they had met from the United Kingdom who had flown to Louisville to see Pearl Jam perform.
All of these factors combined, only fueled my anticipation for the show. Connecting with people from extremely different backgrounds, and from a very different age demographic made me a sort of wunderkind among the crowd. “You’re how old and you listen to Pearl Jam?” Was a question I got asked more times than I count. Shoutout Dad for being professor emeritus in the Sherrard household on all things rock history, at least until my knowledge surpasses his (don’t get too comfortable Dad).
With that being said, for those who don’t know much about me, rock music is critical to my Identity. Whether I was 11 years old playing Poison’s “Every Rose Has its Thorn” on the phone to my fifth grade girlfriend, when I was in high school becoming well-acquainted with grunge, or on into college when the American powerhouse of Bruce Springsteen coaxed my anxieties during the peak of the pandemic, rock music has always been and always will be central to my identity and my first form of expression. The words of rock musicians always describe what I’m feeling when I can’t do so myself, and I am indebted to the men and women with that ability for eternity.
All background aside, back to the story. Saturday night rolled around and after a lively performance by newcomers Greta Van Fleet, it was Pearl jam time. As every minute passed, my excitement grew, and so did the crowd. Oh no. The crowd is gigantic, I’ll never squeeze my way close enough to feel Mike McCready’s amp shaking me to my core. I decided I could not let this stand and picked up my best Marshawn Lynch impression. Taking a low center of gravity, I pushed my way as close as I could get to the stage (I’ve never said more “scuse mes” and “opes” in my life). And I made it right next to the sound control stage, a solid fifty yards from the stage. This in itself was an achievement. I’ll put a picture below for scope.
Out of those tiny specks I am right behind the trench and next to the square in the middle. Hell of an achievement if you ask me in a crowd of 40,000 plus.
Nonetheless, eventually Pearl Jam took the stage, and from the first note of their classic song “Daughter” I could feel Eddie Vedder’s gritty crooning penetrating my soul in a way I had never felt before. I was running on pure adrenaline at this point. The peak of the show for me came during the third song. The song “Off He Goes” is a personal testament written by Vedder to a friend of his that struggles with anxiety. Due to a personal connection to the song because of my own mental health struggles, this song has always been my favorite. It’s sort of a deep track, so I had no expectation that they’d play it. But from the first strum of Stone Gossard’s acoustic guitar, I knew what I was about to hear. It was a completely serendipitous moment. Months before I had commented on their set-list for a show in Munich, Germany and told them to play “Off He Goes” in Louisville. Sure enough they did.
As I sang along to every word in the song, nearly in tears by the shock, excitement, and emotional ties I have to the song, I noticed a woman in her 50s standing next to me smiling at my experience and singing along with me. Once the song had ended, we had a lengthy conversation about the show, and she asked if I had seen Pearl Jam before. When I replied no, she said one thing that summarizes my entire experience and that I will never forget, “There are good people in this crowd, everybody comes here to unite on this one thing.”
Her kindness, and sympathetic excitement over my first show was one of the most touching things I’ve experienced on earth. But I think that’s the beauty of Bourbon and Beyond. Whether you’re a 50-something year old trying to relive your youth with fresh eyes, a 20-something year old, living out your dad’s music catalog, or a bourbon connoisseur convening with people who share your love, there is something there for everyone. That’s the true power of culture and uniting forces like music. That weekend, I only saw the best parts of humanity. It felt like we formed our own little community. And to echo the sentiments of my Pearl Jam viewing buddy, there were good people there.
Jakob Sherrard is a McConnell Scholar in the class of 2023. He studies political science and history at the University of Louisville.