Joe Sixpack | Michael Jackson will be everywhere at fest

THIS WEEKEND'S 26th annual Great American Beer Festival in Denver is the first without Michael Jackson, the recently deceased British beer writer. But you need look no further than the massive event's awards ceremony to see that his spirit - and influence - are alive and well. The GABF judges will hand out medals in a staggering 75 style categories, from Düsseldorf-style altbier to American-style wheat-wine ale.

Please don't ask me to name 'em. And forget about the 83 subcategories: I'm fairly certain I couldn't detect the difference between, say, a Kristal weizen and a Leichtes weizen even if you held a Luger to my head.

Too many? Too few? Either way, the credit for this lovely mess o' beer goes to Jackson.

He invented the notion of definable beer styles with the publication in 1977 of his groundbreaking "The World Guide to Beer."

Before his book, people didn't much reckon with the methods, ingredients, flavors and cultural traditions behind the types of beer around the globe. We tended to call it "British beer" or "German beer" or whatever, even if a country's beer varied greatly. Beer drinkers surely could taste the difference between a bitter and a mild. But outside of very technical manuals, there was no clear understanding of what made them different and why.

"Michael's book really opened a lot of people's minds and introduced people to the concept that there were all these kinds of beers that were brewed around the world," said Charlie Papazian, president of the Brewers Association, which runs the festival. "He was the one who showed that these beers had tradition and different qualities attributed to ingredients and aging and fermentation and other unique characteristics."

In an age when the association recognizes no fewer than five types of Belgian-style sour ale alone, it's almost quaint to look back at the 30-year-old book. The guide laid out just 23 "classical beer styles," roughly grouping them as ales, lagers and wheat beer.

But for those of us who suffered a generation ago with little other than boring American industrial lager, it read like an anthropology manual, with Jackson lovingly describing the history, flavor and people behind these unheard-of styles. Rauchbier from Bamberg, white beer from Leuven, pale ale from Burton - Jackson explained why each was worthy of appreciation.

Beer lovers, looking for something different, drooled. Some took action.

In Seattle, Charles Finkel, of the Merchant du Vin wine importing company, gave up the grapes and used the book to track down exotic beers around the world. Suddenly classic but little-seen labels like Samuel Smith's and Lindemans were showing up on American shelves.

Homebrewers began to replicate beer styles - Russian stout, Berliner weisse, Scotch ales - that had never been tasted outside of their homelands.

The style descriptions evolved. Where Jackson had simply mentioned their general specifications, others established technical guidelines, including original gravity, alcohol content, bittering units, color definitions and other elements.

By 1989, beer historian Fred Eckhardt's "The Essentials of Beer Style" identified specific brewing details for 38 styles worldwide.

The list continued to grow.

Papazian, a home-brewing pioneer, personally paged through every issue of the German brewing magazine Brauindustrie, gleaning the specs originally authored by brewing professor Anton Piendl. Zymurgy, the journal of the American Homebrewers Association, published the standards for innovative do-it-yourselfers.

U.S. craft brewers began creating their own knockoffs, with distinct American interpretations of pale ale, stout, barleywine and even wheat beer. Suddenly, a brown ale was no longer just brown ale. It might be an English version, like mild Newcastle; or Flemish, like sweet and sour Goudenband; or American, like hoppy Pete's Wicked.

Other styles seemingly evolved from nowhere.

In the mid-1990s, dozens of brewers started making raspberry wheat beer. It was as if there were no other fruit on the planet. So in 1998, the GABF added a raspberry beer category. It disappeared three years later.

A few years ago, it added coffee-flavored beer. This year, the new taste is pumpkin. Other newbies include gluten-free, low-strength, American-style sour, American-style imperial stout and, well, you catch my drift.

The GABF has ensured that the list will continue to morph with new hybrids, thanks to a medal for the best experimental beer.

I've argued before that perhaps the festival has gone overboard awarding medals in all these styles. Wouldn't beer drinkers be better served if the festival named a single best of show?

After Jackson's death - and, more particularly, a fresh look at his "World Beer Guide" - I'm inclined to reconsider. Every one of those medals is a tribute to the guy who convinced us why we should care about beer. *

"Joe Sixpack" by Don Russell appears weekly in Big Fat Friday. For more on the beer scene in Philly and beyond, visit www.joesixpack.net. Send e-mail to joesixpack@phillynews.com.