Brass on Mass 2026: The Dead Bettys, Lawrence KS & the Community Behind the Music | Field Notes

Brass on Mass: The Block Learned to Dance Together

Brass On Mass 2026

Field Notes from Downtown Lawrence • Granada Theater • Massachusetts Street

Brass on Mass transforms downtown Lawrence, Kansas into one of the city's largest celebrations of live music, brass bands, community vendors, local businesses, and public participation. Beginning at the historic Granada Theater and flowing onto Massachusetts Street, the annual event gathers musicians, families, artists, photographers, stagehands, and neighbors into a single shared habitat. This field note follows the raccoon's observations as a familiar workplace became a community gathering place, revealing that the strongest communities begin long before the first song.

The Block Began to Breathe

Brass on Mass transformed downtown Lawrence, Kansas into a celebration of live music, local businesses, community vendors, and public participation before the first band even took the stage. Arriving early, the raccoon discovered that healthy communities begin forming long before the music starts.

@smile_for_peaty

The raccoon arrived early. This is generally advisable. Communities reveal themselves long before the first note. Brass on Mass had not officially begun but the block disagreed. Musicians unpacked instruments beneath an increasingly warm Kansas sky. Community vendors rolled carts through the front doors of the Granada Theater. Staff and volunteers drifted from one task to the next with the quiet confidence of humans who knew exactly where they were needed before anyone asked. Photographers wandered with cameras hanging comfortably at their sides, pretending not to look impatient.

The first interesting photographs had already happened. The block was beginning to breathe. Humans arrived the way communities usually do. One at a time. A family carrying lawn chairs. A musician carrying a saxophone. A child pulling an adult toward the sound of something not yet playing. The raccoon carrying a camera and an increasingly difficult question. 

When does an event stop being an event and become a community?

The raccoon enjoys The Granada Theater. Not because it is polished. Because it isn't. It wears its history honestly. A little chipped. A little loud. A little rough around the edges. The raccoon has always trusted places that look like they've been lived in. Last concert season, this building was a workplace. This afternoon, it became an observation post. Standing outside the barricade instead of behind it changed everything. The same building. Many of the same humans. An entirely different perspective. 

The Granada Theater
Lawrence KS

The crew wasn't simply preparing for another concert. They were preparing a place where thousands of strangers could safely become neighbors for an evening. Before a single brass note echoed down Mass St, the Granada quietly opened its doors to community vendors, artists, makers, small businesses,  organizations.  Before the music invited people to gather the building already had.

It's Macey!

Then the raccoon spotted a familiar creature.

Macey!

Again! 

The available evidence continues to support one of two working theories. Either Macey has mastered the ability to exist in multiple places simultaneously or there is, in fact, more than one Macey. Additional field research will be required.

The music had not yet begun but the community already had.

The Music Refused to Stay on the Stage

The New Orleans-style parade that opened Brass on Mass carried live music through the streets of downtown Lawrence, inviting the entire community to become part of the performance. Before anyone reached the stage, the music had already gathered a crowd and turned spectators into participants.

River City Brass

The raccoon has attended many concerts. The available evidence suggested a fairly predictable sequence of events. The band walks onto the stage. The audience looks toward the stage. The music begins. Brass on Mass rejected that hypothesis almost immediately. The music didn't begin on the stage! It came looking for the audience. The first notes appeared somewhere down Mass St. Then came the musicians. A New Orleans-style brass parade wound its way through downtown Lawrence, collecting curious humans the same way a stream collects small branches after a rain.

The raccoon had never experienced anything quite like it. (really, it is a pretty common experience in Lawrence!)

It was difficult to determine where the audience ended and where the performance began. Children abandoned the sidewalk to dance alongside their parents. 

Humans smiled at each for reasons that required no explanation.

The parade wasn't simply leading people toward a stage. It was teaching the block how to move together. By the time the musicians reached the Granada Theater, something subtle had changed. The crowd no longer resembled a bunch of individuals attending the same event. It had become a community sharing the same moment. The raccoon considers this a remarkably effective way to begin a festival.

River City Brass 

It turns out the shortest distance between strangers isn't a sidewalk. 

It's a brass band.

River City Brass Band

River City Brass Band officially opened the performances at Brass on Mass, filling Massachusetts Street with joyful brass music and inviting the Lawrence community to dance together. Their performance demonstrated that the strongest live music experiences are measured as much by participation as performance.

By the time the River City Brass Band took the stage, the difficult part had already been accomplished. The audience had stopped behaving like an audience. They had become participants. Children danced without wondering whether anyone was watching. Adults occasionally remembered that they could do the same. Dogs contributed enthusiastically whenever the opportunity presented itself. The raccoon strongly supports dogs participating in public celebrations.

The River City Brass Band didn't tell the crowd to have a good time. They simply created the conditions where having a good time became the obvious choice. 

This observation continued to support an increasingly reliable hypothesis. Healthy communities rarely need to convince humans to participate. They simply make participation feel safe. The brass filled Mass St with the kind of energy that is impossible to ignore. Conversations paused. Feet started moving. Smiles became contagious. 

The block no longer felt like a street closed for an event. It felt like it had remembered what it was built for. The raccoon quietly made another observation. No one appeared especially concerned about age. Children danced beside grandparents. Parents danced beside college students. Former coworkers stood beside complete strangers. For a few hours, the usual categories became surprisingly unimportant.

Everyone belonged to the same band. Some simply happened to be carrying the instruments.

The Band That Saved the World

The Band That Saved the World brought infectious energy to Brass on Mass while illustrating one of the raccoon's favorite observations: exceptional humans rarely wear just one hat. Veteran musicians, stagehands, and artists continue strengthening Lawrence's creative community by contributing wherever they are needed.

The Band That Saved The World 

First, The raccoon approves of this name. "The Band That Saved the World" is exactly the sort of optimistic nonsense the world could use more of. The available evidence suggested they were making a respectable effort. The band took the stage with an energy that immediately changed the habitat. Not louder. Livelier. Mass St had started dancing. Now it committed. The brass hit. The rhythm settled in. Resistance became increasingly impractical. The Band That Saved the World doesn't perform, they seemed more interested in manufacturing momentum. Every musician added another layer until the entire block felt like it was moving to the same heartbeat.

The raccoon quietly revised an earlier hypothesis. Perhaps the band wasn't trying to save the world. Perhaps they were simply saving one afternoon. For one city block. For one community. Sometimes that's enough.

Among the musicians stood a familiar human. Brooke Kafka. The raccoon first met Brooke several weeks earlier while working at the FIFA Fan Festival at Liberty Memorial. 

Not on a stage. She was above one.

Brooke Kafka- Saxophonist and
Local 31 IATSE up rigger/climber
Entirely Capable, all around bad ass 
woman. 

Brooke was working as an up rigger, climbing steel and building scaffolding for the MASSIVE video towers at Liberty Memorial FIFA Fan Fest 2026. Rigging is not easy. Climbing is not easy. Passing steel overhead while suspended in the air is not easy. The raccoon has developed a healthy respect for humans who willingly choose difficult things. Imagine the raccoon's surprise when that same human appeared on stage holding a saxophone. The climber was a musician?!?!  Even MORE impressive, Brooke quietly mentioned this was her first time playing with The Band That Saved the World. The raccoon did find the saxophone remarkable but the courage was the most impressive.  Walking onto a stage with a new band requires a different kind of bravery than climbing steel.  Standing on a stage requires a different kind of bravery as being a woman in a mens field.  Both demand preparation. Both demand trust. Both require believing your teammates will be exactly where they're supposed to be. Both require believing that you are entirely capable.   The raccoon has been collecting data for an increasingly reliable hypothesis. Exceptional humans rarely wear only one hat. Some days Brooke builds the stage. Other days, she becomes part of the reason everyone came.

The raccoon finds this deeply satisfying. It also reinforces another observation. Communities become stronger when humans refuse to let a single job title define them. Stagehands become musicians. Musicians become teachers. Audience members become volunteers. Photographers become friends. The strongest communities are rarely built by specialists. They are built by humans willing to contribute wherever their talents are needed.

The Band That Saved the World didn't simply play Brass on Mass. They embodied one of the central lessons the raccoon keeps finding wherever she points a camera.

Healthy communities are built by humans willing to wear more than one hat.

The Humans Holding the Barricades

Behind every successful community event is a production team that most people never notice. Brass on Mass relied on stagehands, event staff, security, volunteers, and production professionals working together behind the scenes to keep downtown Lawrence safe while thousands of people gathered to celebrate live music, local businesses, and community. The raccoon happened to know many of those humans from the other side of the barricade.

The Granada staff

The raccoon has spent enough time wearing steel toes to know what the audience rarely sees. Good production disappears. If the crew has done its job well- No one notices the crew. 

They notice the music. The dancers. The lights. The laughter. The memories. That invisibility is earned.

Last concert season, many of the humans working Brass on Mass were the raccoon's coworkers. Load-ins. Load-outs. Long days. Heavy cases. Radios. Barricades. Sweat. Problem solving. Now the raccoon found herself standing on the audience side of the barricade, watching familiar humans quietly do what they have always done. Build a place where other humans could safely themselves.

The gates flowed smoothly. Questions were answered before they became problems. The barricades stayed where they belonged. The crowd moved naturally. The lighting set the mood and the sound team made sure each tone was precision.  The production team wasn't controlling the community. They were protecting it. There is a profound difference.

Aaron Hiebb- Lighting 

The raccoon has always believed that the best crews understand this instinctively. Their job is not to become the story. Their job is to make sure everyone else gets to have one.

Watching former coworkers work from the audience side of the barricade brought an unexpected sense of pride. The raccoon knows how physically demanding this work can be. Long hours. Heavy lifting. Changing plans. Weather. Crowds.

The audience experienced an afternoon of music. The crew experienced an afternoon of responsibility. Both were essential.

The raccoon would be remiss if she failed to acknowledge one particular creature.

The Sound Elf- Alex Ripplinger @plantsine

The Sound Elf-  Alex Ripplinger (@plantsine).

The first time the raccoon encountered Alex, he wasn't standing beneath stage lights. He was standing quietly in the shadows of the Granada Theater. The raccoon immediately reached what she believed to be the only reasonable conclusion. 

This was not a mortal human. This was clearly an elf.

The available data has only reinforced that original hypothesis. The raccoon has since encountered the Sound Elf at multiple venues, quietly tending to cables with the sort of precision that makes stagehands stop and appreciate the craft. Some humans coil cable. Others appear to practice an ancient form of practical magic. The raccoon suspects Alex belongs firmly in the second category.

It isn't just the cables. Elves possess an uncanny awareness of their surroundings. The Sound Elf appears to possess an equally uncanny sense of sound. He hears things the raccoon suspects most mortals never notice. Tiny adjustments. Small corrections. Subtle imperfections. Then, almost without anyone realizing it everything sounds exactly as it should.

Curiously, like Macey, the Sound Elf also appears to exist in multiple places at once. The raccoon has not yet ruled out the possibility that Macey is secretly an elf as well.

Additional field research will be required.

So, should your own expedition require a Sound Elf- The raccoon recommends Alex Ripplinger. 

Entirely capable human. ...or elf.

The available evidence remains inconclusive. Either way...  They are Entirely capable.

The raccoon stood quietly for a moment, realizing she was watching two different chapters of her own story occupy the same city block. Former coworkers stood behind the barricades. Current coworkers stood on the stage. Photographers she once admired now nodded in recognition across the pit. Some of the humans who helped build this community had become part of it. Others had quietly welcomed the raccoon into it. Past. Present. Both unfolding at exactly the same time. The raccoon suspects the future was there, too. Perhaps it was the child dancing in a diaper. Perhaps it was the teenager carrying a camera for the first time. Perhaps it was the musician stepping onto a stage with a new band and wondering if they belonged.

Communities don't simply preserve memories. They manufacture futures.

The strongest communities aren't built by the humans standing in the spotlight. More often, they're built by the humans standing just outside the frame.

The Humans Behind the Cameras

Concert photography preserves more than performances—it documents the culture surrounding them. As photographers gathered throughout Brass on Mass, the raccoon observed the mentorship, collaboration, and quiet community that exists behind the lenses documenting Lawrence's live music scene.

@smile_for_peaty

The raccoon has developed a habit. Whenever possible, she arrives early. Not just for the music. For the photographers. Every creative community has them. Some have documented the same stages for decades. Some arrived last week.

The raccoon still feels like the new creature wandering into an established habitat with a camera, a notebook full of questions, and considerably more curiosity than certainty. The available evidence has been overwhelmingly encouraging. Many photographers have quietly shared what they know. Camera settings. Good shooting locations. Words of encouragement. Welcoming me behind the barricade and respecting me and my space, even if I am still very much learning.  Small pieces of advice that seem insignificant until you're the one receiving it. The raccoon has not forgotten those humans. They helped make the habitat feel a little less intimidating. They helped the raccoon understand what in the hell was going on because sometimes the raccoon misses that. The raccoon appreciates these types of people.   

The available evidence has also produced another observation. Some photographers possess a remarkable talent for appearing in the raccoon's photographs! Repeatedly! Almost like they intentionally move to block the shot!  The raccoon has chosen to interpret this not as hostility but as an unavoidable occupational hazard and lack of social awareness.  They are, after all, a part of the habitat I am documenting, too.  Every habitat develops its own customs. Its own personalities. Its own rhythms. The raccoon has simply learned to move.  Back and forth.  And, back and forth. To get the shot.   That, too, is part of the job.  I am hard to keep track of.  

Something important to know about the raccoon, she is very good at observation and reading the crowd.   Also, if you decide to be a bit of an asshole to the raccoon- she is very comfortable being a little bit of an asshole in return.  It is all in good feral fun.  

This led to another observation. Communities signal to one another constantly. A familiar photographer. A nod across the barricade. A shared laugh while reviewing photographs. An experienced photographer making room for someone who is still learning where to stand.

The raccoon has spent enough years studying behavior to recognize an important pattern. Healthy communities don't grow because everyone arrives knowing what they're doing. They grow because someone decides to make room for the newcomer.

The camera records the performance. The photographers quietly document something much larger.

The community itself.

As the Sun Went Down

Lawrence-based SUNU brought a distinctive blend of Afrobeat, jazz, funk, New Orleans street rhythms, and West African percussion to Brass on Mass, carrying downtown Lawrence from a warm summer afternoon into an evening that felt increasingly alive. Their performance marked another turning point in the festival and revealed a creative community where musicians, stagehands, and artists often contribute in more than one role.

As the sun drifted lower over Mass St, the habitat changed. Not all at once. A little at a time. The light softened. The shadows grew longer. The crowd didn't become smaller. It became denser.  SUNU stepped onto the stage and the pulse of the block changed with them. 

The raccoon would later discover there was a reason. Afrobeat. Jazz. Funk. New Orleans street rhythms. West African percussion. Not genres. Ingredients. Mixed together into something that was impossible to stand still through for very long.

The available evidence suggests the rhythm reached humans before it reached their ears. Feet moved. Heads nodded. Children continued dancing. Parents forgot to be adults for a little while. Dogs remained enthusiastic participants.

The raccoon continues to support this policy. The raccoon has learned to trust those signals.

Then another pattern emerged. The raccoon kept recognizing familiar faces. Not in the audience. On the stage. Musicians who had already performed quietly returned with another band. Different instruments. Different responsibilities. The hats changed. 

AGAIN. 

The data is overwhelming.

The humans remained. The raccoon found herself smiling. There it was again. Another piece of data. Creative communities aren't built by isolated artists. They're built by humans willing to contribute wherever their talents are needed. One day behind the barricade. The next on the stage. One set with one band. The next with another.

The raccoon has developed a deep appreciation for humans who refuse to fit neatly into a single box.

By now the block had filled from curb to curb. The sky had begun changing colors. The energy continued to build. One band remained. The raccoon had documented The Dead Bettys before. She knew what was coming.

The detonation.  🧨

The Dead Betty's

Lawrence's reigning Best Local Band, The Dead Bettys, closed Brass on Mass with the horn-powered explosion that has quickly made them one of the defining acts in the Lawrence music scene. Formed in 2024 by veteran Lawrence musicians, the band blends ska, punk, rock, jazz, and blues into a performance that is as much about community participation as it is about music. Their twelve-member lineup reflects the same pattern the raccoon had been observing all afternoon: exceptional communities are built when talented humans bring many different strengths together.

As the last light disappeared behind the buildings, the stage belonged to The Dead Betty's. The raccoon had seen this before. The available data had become difficult to ignore.

The Dead Betty's do not perform. They detonate. 🧨

The raccoon has spent part of this summer studying pyrotechnics. If The Dead Betty's were fireworks they would be the grand finale barrage of Aerial Shells, Fountains, comets, and waterfalls with flame projectors. Off a rooftop.  On a boat.   Not because they are louder than everyone else. Because every shell lands exactly where it should, building toward something bigger. That observation felt strangely familiar.

Beth Romano commands the stage.

Behind her stands an army.

Aaron Riffel on bass. Hank Rischar on keys and vocals. Rory Harms and Bennett Kinder on guitars. Cole Bichelmeyer and Andy Groneman on trumpet. Jon Heeb and Andrew Ramaley on trombone, with Andrew also contributing vocals. Leron Gray on baritone saxophone. Joe Vaglio on saxophone and vocals. The drummer was not their usual drummer.  

Twelve musicians. One organism. The raccoon quietly admired the engineering. Every member occupied a different space. Every member served a different purpose. Every member contributed another layer until the stage itself seemed barely capable of containing them.

Then the raccoon did what raccoons do. She looked away from the stage. The audience already knew what to do. They knew the rhythms. They knew the moves.

The Dead Betty's may be one of Lawrence's newer bands but the musicians are not. The raccoon did her research. These are veteran members of Lawrence's music community who have spent years building the scene before joining forces under one wonderfully improbable banner.

Suddenly the phenomenon made perfect sense. This wasn't simply a band. 

It was Lawrence playing itself back to Lawrence. The audience responded accordingly. The energy that had been building all afternoon finally escaped containment. The raccoon continues to support this policy.

This wasn't simply the closing set. This was the detonation. The raccoon quietly filed one final observation before lowering her camera.

No matter where The Dead Betty's appear...

The community arrives ready to become part of the show.

The signals were becoming impossible to ignore.

Signals

Beyond the music, Brass on Mass revealed something deeper about Lawrence's creative community. From checkerboard patterns and brightly colored shoes to "Are You A Betty?" shirts and familiar faces, the raccoon observed the visual language of belonging. Long before introductions are made, these small signals quietly communicate identity, participation, and community—one of the recurring patterns found throughout Lawrence's live music scene.

The Dead Betty's weren't the only ones sending signals. The audience was, too. The raccoon had been collecting evidence all afternoon. Checkerboard patterns. Bright pink. Remarkably cool shoes. "Are You A Betty?" shirts.  

The raccoon needs to acquire one of these shirts immediately.  For research purposes.  

The same colors. The same symbols. The same unmistakable excitement.

The raccoon has developed a growing appreciation for signaling. Communities recognize one another long before introductions are made. Long before names are exchanged. Long before anyone says, "Welcome." The signals quietly say it first.

The raccoon has observed this at goth nights. At metal shows. At drag performances. At raves. And now, at Brass on Mass.

The habitat changes. The music changes. The creatures change.

The behavior remains remarkably consistent. Humans have an extraordinary need to belong to something larger than themselves.

Sometimes, it begins with a pair of shoes and checkerboard. 

Twenty Years From Now

Brass on Mass is more than a summer concert in downtown Lawrence, Kansas. It is a gathering place where music, mentorship, community, and culture are passed from one generation to the next. Watching families experience live music together, the raccoon was reminded that today's audience often becomes tomorrow's musicians, stagehands, photographers, volunteers, and community builders.

The raccoon spent nearly thirty years working in education. You don't spend that much time around children without quietly becoming invested in the humans they might someday become. As the music echoed down Mass St, the raccoon watched children in diapers. Children riding on shoulders. Children chasing bubbles. Children dancing without a hint of self-consciousness. And, children inside adult bodies.

The raccoon smiled.

Twenty years from now- One of those children may walk onto the Granada stage carrying a trumpet. Another may arrive with a camera around their neck, quietly wondering if they belong. One may be learning to over-under coil cables beside the Sound Elf. One may be standing behind a barricade keeping the community safe. One may pull on a vintage "Are You A Betty?" shirt before meeting friends downtown. One may simply decide to bring their own child to Brass on Mass because, years earlier, someone brought them. The raccoon suspects this is how communities survive. Not because traditions are preserved. Because they're passed forward. One invitation. One song. One photograph. One midsummer evening at a time.

The raccoon lowered her camera. Some photographs document a moment.

The best ones document a future that hasn't happened yet.

Field Resources

The raccoon strongly encourages further field research. Every band documented here continues contributing to the remarkable ecosystem that is the Lawrence music scene. Follow them. Attend a show. Support the artists. Support the venues. Support the humans behind the scenes. Healthy communities survive because ordinary humans keep showing up.

The Dead Bettys
Instagram: @thedeadbettys
https://www.instagram.com/thedeadbettys
Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=61559917156212
Official Website:
https://www.thedeadbettys.com

River City Brass Band 

🦝 UPDATE: THE RACCOON MADE A MISTAKE.

The raccoon accidentally linked to the wrong River City Brass in the original Field Resources. The remarkable humans who opened Brass on Mass are: 🎺 River City Brass Band

Instagram: @rivercitybrassband https://www.instagram.com/rivercitybrassband

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/share/1BQijVWQoz/?mibextid=wwXIfr

🦝🖤

SUNU
Instagram:
https://www.instagram.com/sunuband
Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/sunumusic
Bandcamp:
https://sunu.bandcamp.com/album/food-inc-b-w-liberation

The Band That Saved the World
Instagram:
https://www.instagram.com/thebandthatsavedtheworld
Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/TheBandThatSavedTheWorld
Bandcamp:
https://thebandthatsavedtheworld.bandcamp.com/album/name-in-lights

Brass on Mass Field Gallery
https://mymidlifecrisiscreativeinc17.pixieset.com/brassonmassthegranadatheater/

The raccoon considers supporting local musicians, photographers, stagehands, venues, volunteers, promoters, and community organizers to be one of the finest forms of field research.

Participation is how communities survive.

Field Note Complete

The raccoon arrived expecting to document a block party. The available data suggested something considerably larger. Brass on Mass was never really about brass. It wasn't even really about the bands. It was about continuity. The same humans appeared throughout the afternoon. Changing instruments. Changing jobs. Changing hats. Stagehands became musicians. Musicians became mentors. Photographers became historians. Parents became children for a little while. Children quietly became the future.

The raccoon suspects communities are far less fragile than they sometimes appear. Not because they resist change. Because they teach the next generation how to carry them forward- One invitation, One photograph, One rehearsal,  One volunteer shift, One concert, One Midsummers Evening at a time.

The music ends. The culture doesn't.

The raccoon lowered her camera. The data had been there all along. 

Field note complete. The room left evidence. The raccoon collected it.

Slightly feral. Entirely capable.

— Laverna the Rockin' Raccoon 🦝🖤

Slightly Feral Media

Published by My Midlife Crisis Creative Inc.

Filed as:
Field Notes • Community Documentation • Lawrence, Kansas • Live Music • Brass on Mass • Documentary Photography

The Dead Betty's
Brass On Mass 
Lawrence, KS 2026