C24C LIVE @ THE ROXY



C24C is a 5 piece punk-funk-dub ensemble from the San Fernando Valley who have been tearing through Southern California since 1999. Finally all graduated, the band is ready to make their move on the world. C24C could be compared to the likes of Sublime, Funkadelic, Rage Against the Machine, NOFX, and of course the Red Hot Chili Peppers but more appropriately, C24C is an ice cold glass of electric funk lemonade. Although these songs provide a keyhole view into their studio savvy, be sure to be part of the energetic live performances that have made C24C local legends in Southern California.

then respit by our contributing bastard, Pico Robertson from the small town of Deià, Spain:

Toss James Brown in a blender with G Love, maybe a kick in the nuts from Phish and Rage with a loveforlust hippy stench flying from their damned heads, C24C rocked the stage at the Roxy tonight. Surrounded by hotass but lacking in the wristband dept. hunnies, I filled my gut with american brews thanks to Shik and RJ from F1ND magazine who invited me on this nutty excusion for a night. The soulfoul backup singers, one whom I fell madly for on the first lick, a percussionist dropped down from heaven herself, and 5 pieces of madness on stage keeps my head grovvin and ears ringing now..

Upstairs afterhours not really just ditching the teenies, a 3 part floor squatting natural hare krishna vibed group garnished the tiny stage with a moodsetter, before Earth Wind, [i think they're named] jumped up with another twelve and jammed the night thru with roots rock raggae. I think I fell in love with 5 american girls and one frenchie tonight. I love hollywood. The floors wet with whores, the doors behind doors behind doors, know the right smile or shake and they let you thru them all. Running across Sunset hand in hand, squeezing between her wingman on the dancefloor, wetting my pallate again with cheap 12 dollar cocktails watered down from the Cali Aquaduct.

The night was set from the start, I robbed a plane from London to here last night, sold my condo in Manhattan and bought a beat-up old ship in San Diego to reside my ass for the next few months while this wannabe mag and their heads try to fund my way thru a tale of seven adventures.. this being the start of just one. but a chapter in itself for you to spread on your peanut butter bread. eat me alive, I want to entertain you by my honest words of the city after hours.

until next shebang, pico out.

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