Faces Behind the Fest: Tiffany Ackerman

The first time I met Puckett was in high school art class. He was hocking his zine, "Pucknation," for 50 cents a copy, surrounded by two tables of students who were dying of laughter at one of his stories. I was so nervous that I had to bring an emotional-support friend across the room with me to buy a copy. The zine was just like him: outgoing, unapologetic, sharp wit, and a cast of writers who I later discovered were mostly him, written under different anagrams of his name. Puckett was full of life, full of stories, and funny anecdotes. He was quick to put down a bully with his razor-sharp wit and did not tolerate shitty people at all. Puckett had pretty high standards for his friends, and as I've been working alongside his interns, now called the Pucketteers, I've been seeing those standards in action.

Honestly, in all the years I knew him, and the numerous times we shared a vacation together, I never fully understood what a record label actually did. I would tease him that he was somewhere between a banker and a mob boss. He was always on the go, always on the phone, and a non-stop source of life and energy. I valued his advice highly, and can confidently say he was one of the most intelligent and creative people I've ever met.

I'm still not sure that I understand what a record label does, but in the time I spent with his friends and family sorting out the business after he passed, I saw what he had actually done. Puckett was a strong believer in community and music, and he had built a scene full of both. The number of people who were touched by Little Heart Records and his friendship was so vast that there was almost no room at his memorial service: What he had built was a giant family of musicians and music lovers, some just teenagers who were looking for a place to belong, some older people who just wanted to be included in the tide of creativity, fun, and endless coffees and discussions of movies, comics, and pop culture. He was a mentor who showed people that you can do anything if you really want to. He gave some of Louisville's most successful bands their first chance, taught them about contracts, business, and representation, and, most importantly, he made everyone feel like someone.

Puckett always knew he wouldn't have a long life. He had been told since he was born that the conditions he was born with would end his life early. We had a lot of conversations about it, what he wanted to do on his short path, what he wanted to change, what he wanted to create, and what kind of legacy he would leave. He actually lived longer than any of the doctors had guessed. He was a frequent flyer at the local ERs and never complained about it. You would never have known he was running one of Louisville's largest independent record labels from a hospital bed. Puckett was always down for a road trip, and I can't even calculate how many miles he went in his red Honda Fit, moving records, going on adventures, stopping to take pictures of funny signs and niche stops along the way.

Many of you were on one or multiple of these adventures and know how he never shied away from an interesting-looking shop or stop, no matter how sketchy it looked to the rest of us. I can personally testify to his stopping at a sad-looking gas station around Interlochen, Florida, where I found the ladies' room covered in the American flag. Walls, ceilings, toilet, the whole deal. The metal grate over the one window in the concrete room did nothing to comfort me. Somehow, these strange places just found Puckett, or he found them, but he always delighted in the adventure.

This week, as we near our first annual Puckettfest, I've been listening to "Puckett Radio" on Spotify and letting him DJ from the beyond. It's a 185-hour playlist that he curated, and his rule was "don't skip the song". It's a masterpiece of conflicting genres. Today, I went from John Mayer straight into the Descendents, and it made me smile. Puckett was a valued friend, and we considered him a part of our family. He was always at Thanksgiving with us, usually trying to sell merch, and of course, the one fateful Thanksgiving dinner with my new Grandma and new in-laws, where he explained why I wouldn't trust him with a bubble gun as my flower girl at the wedding. IYKYK.

I am so proud to be part of the team; I think he would be really proud of the way we are continuing his legacy, and he would be happy with our choice in supporting Sweet Evening Breeze. He always saw past the anxious, neurotic, fat girl that I was sure was the only thing the world could see. He sat with my little brother all night in the ER when I wasn't available, and stood by my side through some of the most difficult personal experiences I've had, never complaining and always happy to keep me company with an avocado milkshake and a road trip.

The world is on fire. Sometimes, I'm glad he isn't here to see it, but I’m glad we get to uphold his memory in some small way.

Please accept our warmest welcome to Puckettfest! Grab a milkshake, turn on Radio Puckett (no skipping!), and fight back the way he would have wanted: with music and community.