Foo Fighters
Thirty years of Dave Grohl turning grief and volume into the most reliably cathartic rock show going — a hits catalog three hours deep, played like it's still a club gig.
Rock, roots and Americana over four days in Louisville, with bourbon and food billed alongside the bands.
Bourbon & Beyond is the roots-music half of Louisville's September double-header — the same Highland Festival Grounds as Louder Than Life the week before, and an almost entirely different crowd. Four days, 107 acts, and a bill built on the overlap between rock, Americana, and country: Foo Fighters, Mumford & Sons, Chris Stapleton, and Dave Matthews Band take a night each, with Kacey Musgraves, Jason Isbell, Charley Crockett, The Flaming Lips, and Joan Jett underneath them. The bourbon and the food programming are billed alongside the music rather than behind it, which sets the pace of the day: a distillery talk in the afternoon, a headliner after dark, and a long, unhurried stretch of bluegrass and soul in between.
Expect country, alt-rock, folk and rock across 107 acts.
September 24–27, 2026 — Thursday through Sunday.
Highland Festival Grounds at the Kentucky Exposition Center in Louisville — the same site as Louder Than Life the week before.
Foo Fighters (Thursday), Mumford & Sons (Friday), Chris Stapleton (Saturday), and Dave Matthews Band (Sunday).
107 announced acts across four days.
It's billed alongside the music, not behind it — tastings, distillery sessions, and chef demos run through the afternoon. Details and ticket add-ons are on the official festival site.
Every act's day is already on this page — expand the full lineup below or check the day-by-day breakdown. Set times usually land closer to the festival.
Tell the finder at the top of this page a few bands you love — it'll match you with your must-see sets, with reasons why.
Lollapalooza lineup →Hopscotch lineup →The Fest lineup →Rebellion lineup →III Points lineup →Lost Lands lineup →Louder Than Life lineup →All Points East lineup →Aftershock lineup →End of the Road lineup →ARC lineup →Warped Tour Orlando lineup →Austin City Limits lineup →Reading & Leeds lineup →EDC Orlando lineup →Riot Fest lineup →Outside Lands lineup →Green Man lineup →HARD Summer lineup →Osheaga lineup →Bass Canyon lineup →Hulaween lineup →Honcho Campout lineup →Portola lineup →Furnace Fest lineup →Shaky Knees lineup →Sick New World Texas lineup →Hinterland lineup →All Things Go DMV lineup →Raleigh Wide Open lineup →Oceans Calling lineup →Darker Waves lineup →Bumbershoot lineup →Ohana lineup →Sea.Hear.Now lineup →Iron Blossom lineup →All Things Go NYC lineup →
Going to Bourbon & Beyond 2026? Get tickets ↗
Thirty years of Dave Grohl turning grief and volume into the most reliably cathartic rock show going — a hits catalog three hours deep, played like it's still a club gig.
Banjo-driven crescendos that defined a decade of festival folk, now delivered with the electric guitars left plugged in — the singalongs never optional.
A songwriter's songwriter with a howl that turns Nashville craft into something closer to Muscle Shoals soul — 'Tennessee Whiskey' just the entry point of a stacked catalog.
Violin, saxophone, and Matthews's rhythmic yelp — a jam institution whose setlists still never repeat, and whose players still surprise each other nightly.
Josh Homme's robot-boogie riffs — heavy music with a lounge singer's sense of swing and menace, desert-rock royalty at full strut.
Deceptively gentle country that smuggles in sharp jokes and sharper edges under the pedal steel — 'Golden Hour' grace with a Texas smirk.
Gulf Coast southern rock with a frontman who sounds like he learned to sing in a revival tent — 'Wondering Why' the slow-burn breakout.
Darius Rucker's warm baritone over songs that sold fifteen million copies and never once tried to be cool — which is precisely why they aged well.
Adam Duritz rewriting his own lyrics live every night — the songs never quite settle into their recorded shape, which is exactly the appeal three decades in.
Sunny indie-pop hooks concealing consistently dark lyrics — a trick they've never stopped pulling since 'Pumped Up Kicks' snuck onto every radio.
The jam scene's current standard-bearers — song-first, patient, and capable of going anywhere after the second chorus, with a fanbase growing by the tour.
Unsparing, novelistic songwriting about the South, played by a band that can still level a room with a guitar solo.
The internet's protest-folk bard — a new topical song every week, Dylan-grade wit aimed at whatever the news cycle just did.
A rasp built for heartbreak, dragging country songwriting through trap drums and open-wound honesty — genre lines treated as suggestions.
Iceland's stomp-and-holler exports — 'Little Talks' and a decade of widescreen indie-pop, hey!-shouts included, Icelandic warmth at singalong scale.
Confetti cannons, giant balloons, and Wayne Coyne's cracked falsetto — a live show engineered as a sensory event, 'Do You Realize??' as the group hug.
Motorik heartland rock — Springsteen refracted through a synth haze, transcendent live, 'Under the Pressure' as the long exhale.
Honky-tonk and Gulf Coast blues delivered by a genuine road-worn troubadour with a hat and a story to match — an album-a-year work rate straight from the old school.
'What's Up?' — one enormous, unavoidable song and a Linda Perry vocal nobody has managed to imitate since, reunited so a whole field can scream the hey-yeah-yeahs together.
Alaskan psych-rockers who backed into a global pop hit and kept the weirdness in the live set anyway — 'Feel It Still' plus deep-catalog detours.
Fuzz-drenched Texas blues that keeps sliding into soul and hip-hop without ever losing the guitar — Austin's modern guitar hero at full sprawl.
Leather, three chords, and total conviction — the blueprint for every woman fronting a rock band since, hits included.
Josh Tillman's lounge-lizard prophet act — gorgeous orchestration, acid wit, and a crooner's delivery that sells every barbed line.
Oregon folk-country riser — earnest, streaming-era troubadour with a fanbase that found him one chorus at a time.
Piano-led mid-2000s radio balladry that soundtracked more television drama than most composers manage — 'How to Save a Life' forever mid-montage.
Difford and Tilbrook's kitchen-sink character sketches set to some of the sharpest pop writing of the era — 'Up the Junction' a short story in song.
Power-pop hall-of-famers with a five-neck guitar and a catalogue built entirely out of choruses — 'Surrender' still the correct answer to most questions.
A guitar prodigy with a soul singer's voice, fronting a band that plays like the Allmans never stopped — Greenville grit at full burn.
Sibling harmonies over hushed, sun-faded folk — Australian soft-focus songs whose whispered intimacy has somehow scaled all the way to headline size.
Backflipping former pipefitter with a howl — raw-nerve folk-country redemption songs delivered with gymnastic stage energy and zero polish where it counts.
Burundi drums, pirate costumes, and glam swagger — 'Stand and Deliver', 'Prince Charming', and the rest of a hits catalog that defined new wave's dress-up era at its most gleefully theatrical.
A former schoolteacher with a honeyed, understated folk-soul voice built for the late-afternoon slot — easy warmth that has aged into deep-catalog dependability.
Horn-driven neo-soul-pop — 'HandClap' engineered for exactly this kind of afternoon, with a two-vocalist front line that works every inch of stage.
'Blister in the Sun' and the strangest great American songbook — acoustic punk forever, xylophone solos included.

Hawaiian island reggae built on a genuinely soulful lead vocal — Maui warmth with country-soul phrasing.
Dancing electric-violin spectacle — classical chops at festival scale, choreography and pyrotechnics included, a one-woman production that earns the word spectacle.
Country-leaning confessional songwriting that stepped decisively out of a very long family shadow — hushed duets and high-lonesome ache.
Paul Janeway in a sequined jumpsuit, singing like a preacher over an eight-piece Alabama soul revue — testimony with a horn section.

Drumless string-band punk about drinking and dying, played fast enough to dance to — gallows humor at hoedown tempo.
'Good' still is — New Orleans alt-rock lifers with easy charm and a '90s catalog deeper than the one-hit tag suggests.
Retro-soul made by people who studied the records — two voices trading leads over immaculate rhythm work, from falsetto sweetness to preacher grit.
'Are You Gonna Be My Girl' — Aussie garage swagger, reunited, with enough riff-rock singles to keep the tank full.
Pop-punk lifers best known for an acoustic song that ate the world for a summer — 'Hey There Delilah' and sturdier rock behind it.
Canadian alt-rock with Raine Maida's distinctive strangled falsetto sitting above the crunch — 'Superman's Dead' and national-institution status up north.
Cat-eye glasses and precise, conversational songwriting from the last great era of the coffeehouse single — 'Stay' still lands soft and exact.
Texas southern rock with an organ in the mix and a slow-burn approach to a payoff — 'Keep the Wolves Away' the campfire hymn.

A committed, captain's-hat-wearing tribute to smooth '70s AM radio, played entirely straight — the smoothness is non-negotiable.
A Kentucky native coming home, with a blues-soaked voice that outlived the one song everyone remembers — 'One of Us' just the front door.
Lilith-era songwriting with jazz training underneath and a voice that goes places the radio edits never showed — the cowboys question still stands.
Turn-of-the-millennium radio rock with a bigger acoustic-folk backstory than the hits suggest — 'Everything You Want' still inescapable.
Red dirt country with a theatrical streak and a sense of humour that cuts — Oklahoma storytelling that plays like a one-woman show with a band.
A restless folk singer who performs like the songs might get away from him if he stops moving — pew-jumping revival energy nightly.

Progressive bluegrass played by a band happy to jam a traditional tune well past its natural length — Grammy-winning chops, festival stamina.
Banjo murder ballads delivered with genuine warmth and a stand-up comic's crowd work — the rare dark-folk act that leaves the whole room grinning.
Loop-pedal singer-songwriter fare from the era when one guy and a guitar could still chart — 'Collide' remains the slow-dance evidence.
Late-'90s alt-rock with a warm, unfussy approach to a big chorus — 'If You Could Only See' still glowing.
Sardonic alt-country-rock from David Lowery, still funnier and stranger than its radio singles let on — 'Low' the gateway, the deep cuts the reward.
A mandolin virtuoso since childhood, now writing songs that justify the technique — bluegrass pedigree stretched into something personal.
Montana 'galaxy grass' — bluegrass instrumentation pushed toward psychedelia and volume, jamgrass with actual gravitational pull.
Power-pop with one indelible turn-of-the-century single and a catalogue worth more than that — 'Story of a Girl' still smiles when it cries.
Michigan alt-rock whose biggest song is far bleaker than its radio ubiquity suggested — 'The Freshmen' still lands heavier than remembered.

Southern rock grit on the undercard.
A Broadway-honed Telecaster player pushing honky-tonk into long-form psychedelic territory — country chops with a jam band's appetite for the unknown.

Berklee-bred horn-pop that's tighter and sweeter than a band this young has any right to be — Boston funk with genuine pop songcraft up front.
Hushed southern-gothic folk duo trading harmonies over songs that sound like they were recorded in a room at 3am — Georgia intimacy that silences a tent.
Kentucky drawl, punk heart — swampy Southern storytelling with teeth, farm-town detail delivered with DIY conviction.
'Look At The Time' broke him overnight — big-voiced Southern alt-rock with grunge shadows and arena aims.


Emerging indie songwriter.








