You might reasonably deduce that this post is about that Pearl Jam song. It’s not, or at least not entirely. It’s a fair assumption, though, as “Why Go” has endured as one of my favorite PJ songs, and I’ve certainly written about it before. It has been known to get me out of a grumpy mood, and sometimes it even serves as life advice (don’t be another clone). I’m still on a post-Pearl Jam high, having seen them a while back at the Bourbon & Beyond Festival in Louisville, where, yes, they did play “Why Go”, and I loved it and belted out those lyrics at the top of my lungs.

But what I am really asking is — why do we go to concerts? And perhaps more aptly, why do we go to see the same band, over and over? What compels us to travel to see a band that we have seen dozens of times, to hear songs that we have heard hundreds of times? I’ve often faced that question, and I’m afraid that I rarely have an eloquent answer.

I once read an article that theorized that the songs are like old friends. We get emotional when we hear these songs, in the same way that we get emotional when we see a long lost friend. I don’t know that I could explain it any better than that.

At least for me, favorite bands and songs serve as a touchstone. They mark my progress through life. I’ve heard all of the old Pearl Jam stuff in concert dozens of times over the past 30 years, but of course I’m never the same person as the first time I saw them on that overcast day at the Kitsap County Fairgrounds in 1992. Fresh out of college and starting law school in a month, I was a fan of plans, certainty, and structure. I wouldn’t realize until years later that all the good stuff comes from the things in between the plans. But that naive young woman was right about one thing that day — I knew that I had found my people.

I’ve grown up with these guys, with these songs. They are now as much a part of me as any old friend. That’s what keeps me coming back to see them, year in and year out. And for people who have entered our life midstream, these bands and songs become part of how they see us. Nowhere is this more true than with our kids, who grew up hearing these songs on kitchen playlists and road trips. The great thing about kids is that they might think we are crazy for our fandom, but they love us anyway.

The morning after the Louisville show, as we were heading to breakfast, my daughter texted me from her college town across the country. She said that she had been in a friend’s car the night before, on their way to get pizza, and Pearl Jam’s “Daughter” came on the radio, and it made her think of me. My nose started to sting and my eyes welled with tears as I texted her back, telling her that Pearl Jam had actually opened with “Daughter” the night before.

I didn’t ask her what time it was that she heard “Daughter” in the car on her way to dinner in Colorado, but I sure like to think that it happened at the exact same time that Pearl Jam took the stage and played it in Louisville.