Inside Brassroots District, LA’s Most Immersive Funk Revival

Los Angeles has never been short on nostalgia. But every so often, a project arrives that doesn’t just reference the past—it inhabits it. Brassroots District: LA ’74, which opened on February 7 at the historic Jewel’s Catch One, isn’t asking audiences to remember 1974. It’s inviting them to step inside it.

Billed as a genre-blurring hybrid of immersive theater and live concert, Brassroots District: LA ’74 transforms a funk album release party into a fully realized, walk-through world—one where the music is live, the drama unfolds in real time, and the audience becomes part of the environment. The result is less a show than a living cultural artifact, tapping into a growing appetite for experiential nightlife that lives somewhere between concert, theater, and communal ritual.

The timing feels deliberate. As audiences, particularly younger ones continue to drift away from traditional, passive live experiences, productions like Brassroots District reflect a broader shift. People don’t just want to watch music anymore. They want to enter it.

Set in a fictionalized version of Los Angeles in 1974, the show centers on Brassroots District, a funk-soul band hosting what should be a celebratory album release party. But as the night unfolds, creative and personal tensions rise. Conversations spill out backstage. Record executives circle. Family members linger. Decisions loom. Each performance asks the same question, refracted through different moments and interactions — fame or freedom, compromise or conviction?

That tension isn’t just narrative—it mirrors the real-world stakes facing artists today, even as the aesthetic points backward. “There’s something powerful about revisiting an era when music, identity, and activism were deeply intertwined,” says one attendee from an early preview. “It feels retro, but it doesn’t feel nostalgic. It feels urgent.” That urgency is reinforced by the music itself. Brassroots District’s debut album, Brassroots District, arrived on January 29, just days before opening night. Recent singles like the slinky, slow-burning “You Caught Me Baby” and the newly released “Takin’ Back Day Dreamin’” featuring Robert Randolph blur the line between fantasy and reality—mirroring the show’s own central theme. The songs aren’t props or background noise; they’re the spine of the experience, performed live as the story evolves around them.

Earlier tracks like “Together” and “Aim High” have already earned the band cultural traction, with V13 calling Brassroots District “a full-fledged movement” and Soundville describing their sound as “time travel made real.” That sense of movement is key. While the band exists within a fictional framework, the music—and the audience’s emotional investment—is very real.

The venue choice only deepens the resonance. Jewel’s Catch One, a landmark space with deep roots in LA’s Black, queer, and artistic communities, adds an unspoken layer of history to the production. The walls themselves have witnessed decades of music, resistance, and celebration. By staging LA ’74 there, the show doesn’t just recreate a past era, it converses with it.

Co-created by music industry veterans Ari Herstand and Andrew Leib, Brassroots District is meticulous in its world-building. The fiction extends beyond the stage — there’s a working 1970s-style ticket hotline (323-596-1973), in-world promotional materials, and period-specific details that make the illusion feel complete. For eight nights only—February 7, 14, 20, 28, and March 7, 14, 20, and 28, with early and late shows each night—the audience is invited to roam freely, rub shoulders with characters, and witness moments that may never play out the same way twice.

It’s a format that reflects where live music culture is headed. From immersive theater to experiential pop-ups, audiences are gravitating toward spaces that prioritize presence over polish and connection over spectacle. Brassroots District doesn’t just acknowledge that shift—it leans fully into it, treating its audience not as ticket-holders but as participants in a shared moment. That ethos extends to the show’s structure. There’s no fixed seat, no single vantage point, no guarantee you’ll see everything in one night. Overheard moments feel intimate, almost conspiratorial. The story belongs as much to the audience as it does to the performers.

Whether the project becomes a long-term LA institution, as its creators hope or remains a fleeting, cult favorite, its impact is already clear. Brassroots District: LA ’74 makes a compelling case for looking backward—not as escapism, but as a way to better understand the present. In doing so, it reminds us that some eras never really end. They just wait for the right moment to come alive again.