The Rolling Greens are a funk rock band out of Southern California.

A lone surfer dropping into the face of a big green barrelling wave, spray tearing off the lip.
Three small kids sitting in a row on the ramp of a lifeguard tower, palm trees and hard sun behind them.
A woman lying in the grass in a purple top, holding a yellow flower out toward the camera.
A lone figure standing on wet sand at the shoreline, long shadow running toward a pier in the distance.
A painting of Morro Rock against a gold and orange sky, a wave peeling across the foreground.
A drummer mid-strike behind a blue sparkle kit, sticks raised, cymbals crowding in from every edge of the frame.
A woman in black leaning against the nose of a light blue Corvette convertible on a hillside street, fog sitting over the town behind her.
A room packed with electric and acoustic guitars leaning against a leather couch, an upright bass among them.
A woman in a red dress walking barefoot through beach grass and dunes toward the surf, Morro Rock in the mist beyond.
A man in a wide-brimmed hat playing a red archtop guitar on a grassy bluff above the ocean.
A baby sitting in a blue plastic high chair in front of a weathered wooden fence.
A woman in a black bikini standing among tall sunlit reeds on a riverbank, seen from behind.
Streaked cirrus clouds burning orange over a flat coastal horizon at dusk, the edge of a road in the foreground.
A kid in a black Rolling Greens thunderbird tank top walking toward a blue convertible in a driveway.
A long-haired rider in sunglasses stopped on a motorcycle in the middle of an empty road winding through green rolling hills.
Three of the band on a fog-grey beach, one holding a surfboard, waves breaking behind them.

Booking

booking at gmail