Chamblee54

There was a comment at Chamblee54. “Steve Loehrer – So tell me what you know about Rose’s Cantina. I booked the music there from 1978-80 – Thorogood, Delbert, The Thunderbirds, The Fans, The Razor Boys and on and on. I was the one that did it. And I probably know you.” This blog has previously published features about the Great Southeast Music Hall, Richards, and the Georgian Terrace Ballroom. One more music venue post is not going to hurt anyone, and will be a good excuse to post some more pictures.
688 Spring Street is a nondescript building, located down the hill from the Varsity. At one time, a company called Southern Tailors made wine jackets there. It is currently a Concentra Urgent Care Center. In between, it was the site of two rock and roll nightclubs, Rose’s Cantina and 688.
House manager Rose Lynn Scott is quoted as saying “You know, we really aren’t sure exactly when it all started and ended … Honest to God, we weren’t paying that close attention.” I first knew about it around 1977, and really didn’t go very often. There is a running list for this post, and whenever a new band sinks into the mush, it is duly noted. Some band did “Love Gun,” which sounds remarkably similar to “Amphetamine Annie” by Canned Heat.
The punk rock revolution did not completely pass Atlanta by. A band called the Fans said they were making the pop music of the eighties. PG saw them twice at Rose’s, and they might be the only time he ever paid to get in. They were an impressive outfit, doing Velvet Underground songs. Later, they opened for Talking Heads at the Agora, and were pretty awful. In 1982, I shared an apartment with the drummer’s brother, his wife, a cable guy, seven snakes, a ferret, and a cat.
Back to the words of Rose Lynn, “It was a dive bar supreme and proud of it.” The stage was in the middle of the house, with a game room behind the stage. If you liked to shoot pool and listen to bands, this was the place. As for drinking, I might get a beer or two, but mostly got bombed at other spots.
In those days, I would go rambling from club to club, often accompanied by his friend Dinkson. One night, we stumbled in on a three piece band. They did a song called “Madison Blues,” with the guitar slinging riffs, and the bass playing the same notes over and over, never changing the look on his face. This was George Thorogood and the Destroyers.
One other night, I stumbled in on the last few minutes of a show by the Brains. They wrote a song called “Money Changes Everything,” that Cyndi Lauper did well with. The Brains were another great local band that never seemed to get a national audience. Another night, some old black man, possibly John Lee Hooker, was playing guitar.
Around about this time, I decided to either grow up, or take my childhood seriously. I wound up in Seattle WA. That wore off after a while. On the greyhound bus going home, I talked to a young lady, who said something about a punk rock club in the Rose’s Cantina space. This was 688.
A few weeks later, Iggy Pop did a week at 688. Here, through the miracle of copy paste, is the story. It isn’t plagiarism when you wrote it yourself.
At any rate, by the time I got back from Seattle, some brave investors decided to have a punk rock club at 688 Spring Street. Soon, Iggy Pop would be playing a week there. In the seventies, the bands would play for five days at the great southeast music hall or the electric ballroom, two shows a night, and if you were really cool you would go on a weeknight before it got too crowded. Soon after that, it was one night in town only, and you either saw it or you didn’t.
I had a friend at the Martinique apartments on Buford Hiway. There was someone living in the complex known as ZenDen, who sold acid. You would go to his place, wade through the living room full of grown men listening to Suzi Quatro, and purchase the commodity.
On to the 23 Oglethorpe bus, and downtown to 688 Spring Street. Before anyone knew it, the band was on the stage. Ivan Kral, a veteran of the Patti Smith Group, played bass. Mr. Kral sneezed, and a huge cocaine booger fell across his face. He was not playing when the show ended. … There was a white wall next to the stage, and someone wrote the song list on that wall. That list of songs stayed on the wall as long as 688 was open. “I want to be your dog” was on the list, as well as the number where Iggy pulled his pants off and performed in his underwear. Supposedly, in New York the drawers came off, but the TMI police were off duty that night.
The show was loud and long, and had the feel of an endurance event … either you go or the band does. Finally, the show was over, and I got on the 23 Oglethorpe bus. You got the northbound bus on West Peachtree Street. You could look down, from Fourth street, and see the Coca Cola sign downtown. Freeway expansion sent that section of West Peachtree to old road hell.
Twenty years after that, I worked in a building at that corner of Fourth and West Peachtree. If I had known about the future of working for Redo Blue, I might have jumped under the 23 Oglethorpe bus, instead of getting on it. The Coca Cola sign was long gone by then.
There was a band called Human Sexual Response. I caught their act at 688. They had three vocalists, wearing matching outfits, and sang a lot of lyric happy songs with cool harmonies. The problem was, I was not familiar with those oh so witty lyrics, and did not know what it was all about.
Kevin Dunn played guitar for the Fans. (He had an ad for guitar lessons on the bulletin board at Wax and Facts. It said that raising racing turtles was more profitable than playing guitar.) One night at 688, he performed with his band The regiment of women. They opened for someone, possibly the Plastics, who we will get to in a minute. So, this guy plays guitar and sings, and a woman plays a drum machine. No skin pounding drummer, but a lady who twisted the knobs on a machine.
The Plastics were from Japan, and did a killer version of “Last Train to Clarksville.” It was about this time that I got a job, and decided that I liked sleeping better than hanging out downtown.
One night, about 1983 or so, I made an exception. The band that night was Modern English. Before the show, I ate three z burgers from the Zestos on Ponce de Leon. During the show, the singer rubbed his stomach, and said to feel the music. About this time, the z burgers were making their presence known, and I could feel something, but it wasn’t the music.
The last show I saw at 688 was Hüsker Dü. The best guess is February 14, 1986. There was a totem pole, made of old TV sets, in the front part of the club. Here is the story.
Hüsker Dü means “do you remember” in Danish and Norwegian. I saw them sometime in the eighties. It might have been the metroplex, but it might have been the 688. There is a list of shows they played, and the metroplex is not on there.
I saw a show at the Metroplex the next night. The band is forgotten. The metroplex was a dark spooky building on Marietta street near the omni. The balcony was very dark, with everything painted black. I tripped over a bench. That was the high point of the evening.
688 was a different story. I saw a bunch of shows there, both as 688 and Rose’s Cantina. HD may have been the last show. I was well into the work/sleep lifestyle that preoccupied my life after a certain point, and just didn’t make it out much anymore. A friend won tickets to the show or he wouldn’t have made it. … I didn’t get into the show very much. HD was a trio, with the later-outed Bob Mould on guitar. For all of his musical skills, Mould is not much for onstage charisma. I felt that if I had been more familiar with their music, I would have enjoyed it more. Some bands you can see without hearing their records, where others need a bit of familiarity.
Pictures today are from Special Collections and Archives, Georgia State University Library The social media picture was taken January 14, 1951. “Intersection of West Paces Ferry Road, Roswell Road, and Peachtree Road, in Buckhead. … One photograph in a series commissioned by Mose S. Hayes of the law firm Barrett and Hayes. The Lane Brothers 1951 Assignment Book (page 15) indicates that the photographs were taken at “606 House Road,” (the photo of the victim) and the four photos of the accident scene were taken at the intersection of Peachtree Road and Paces Ferry Road. The negative envelope says that the scenes are in Buckhead and were taken on January 14, 1951. Total charge for the photographs was $21.00. This long view of the intersection shows a large Coca Cola billboard advertisement.” ©Luther Mckinnon 2026 · selah