Since 1993, C-Bo has been holding down the more extreme end of gangsta rap, a style of doom and gloom that takes the subgenre's callous nihilism to its logical extreme. He's also a good candidate for poster boy of American culture's witch hunt against the music—the Cali mack was actually sent to jail for releasing his vitriol on Till My Casket Drops, as a judge had previously deemed such artistic expression a violation of his parole. As that album title suggests, C (like fellow West Coast vets Too Short and Ice Cube) can attribute his longevity to staying consistent (or consistently hardcore), ensuring a loyal cult of diehard fans. So though he's no longer so macabre, don't expect much spiritual uplift or social righteousness at the show; just good ol' fashioned gangsta rap from one of its chosen sons. 18+.
Sun., Sept. 16, 9 p.m.

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