Cantones was one of the three principal venues of the late 70's and early 80's scenes. In a way it was as important as the Rat and much more important than Cambridge's Club. Teddy and wife Cindy Cantone ran the place for Teddy's father, and split the booking chores for most of the primo years I was hanging around the place. During the daytime Cantone's was an Italian restaurant serving the downtown workforce. After dark, however, the three rooms- bar, kitchen and dining room -were transformed into a venue that had the most liberal and open booking policy in the city. Cantone's was everyman's rock club.

Recently I got a few emails that corrected a glaring oversight, which was my omission of the role Marlo played in booking the joint during it's formative years. "One name that is always associated with Cantone's is 'Marlo'. I find it strange I'm not even in your article. Cantone's was my place. I managed it. I booked it. I fed starving artists. Ask anyone who's been to Cantone's from 1977 to 1981. Just a tidbit. These young boys came in one evening, 17 years old, begging for a place to play. I let them. They became 'The Dogmatics'. Much the same as Human Sexual Response, Lou Miami, and on and on and on. I booked those bands, Joe." So writes Marlo herself, and I hereby fall on my sword and apologize for initially leaving Marlo out of this account, but that's why this is a Storybook, not a Certified History of Boston Rock. These stories depict what happened in my world, as I remember them - someone standing next to me on the same night could tell a completely different story about what went down - the fact that I could rub shoulders with a genius like Marlo night after night and not know she had been the prime mover behind the Cantone's booking policy is merely one example of this. By way of explanation, though, my earliest days spent at Cantones were as a fan or as a roadie helping out the Real Kids or Baby's Arm, and many of my band's [the bones] early gigs from '79 on came down from the headliners, so I didn't deal with the booking person much until late '80. Marlo was one of those people who was around so much you sort of took their presence for granted; I knew she lived upstairs, and I knew she did some booking. But I had pigeonholed her in my mind mainly as the drummer for the Ann Prim Band. I never even realized that hse was the brain trust behind the Space, the great 'other' room around the corner from Cantone's, where the bones played our very first gig [albeit under another name] for the Globe Santa Benefit in December of '79. So I hereby fall on my sword, and hopefully she'll accept my invitation to send in some of her own recollections to post here in the near future. You can, however, check out her MySpace page and read some of her adventures in the early days of Boston's Underground Rock scene.

Marlo, back in the day, drumming for Ann Prim when she wasn't hooking up bands in need of a stage.

During the period between '78 and '82 I practically lived in Cantones. I was still in that early stage of drug addiction where it seemed racy and romantic to stumble around in a fog and wake up in a daze in some seedy dive. Many the night I was physically carried out of Cantones by Billy Cole or another friend after the joint closed. The upside was that I saw / heard something like three hundred sets by most of the legends of that period. This was still in the day when a split bill meant that each band played two staggered sets, so that you'd play either first and third or second and fourth. This was a good system, since even the opening band got a chance to play a set during the peak time around eleven thirty.

Cantones staff was about the friendliest in Boston- remember this is still at a time when the Rat hired most of its bouncers from the pool of frustrated jocks at Southie's D Street Gym. Whereas the Rat bouncers hated most fans and musicians and regularly pummeled some unfortunate s.o.b., Cantones didn't even have a bouncer. John Felica, the regular bartender, was a way cool guy who drove a Harley and watched your back when you were a mess. He only jumped over the bar in real emergencies. Then of course there was Loretta, she of the sexy gravel voice that could be heard over any din at all times, inspiration for the Nervous Eaters' Boston classic "Loretta". Cindy Cantone was a tough cookie when it came to booking and business, but a sweetheart of a person to hang with. I had a huge crush on her, but along with lots of other punters I sublimated it to avoid the wrath of Teddy- not that I ever got any encouragement; Cindy was all business. Teddy Cantone was a great guy, but you definitely got the impression that fucking with him would not be a very smart idea, longevity-wise.

When Cantones stopped serving dinner and the cook went home the kitchen became the dressing room. It was a cramped space with a small island in the middle, and it had one of those old-fashioned trap doors that flipped open so you could bring supplies into the basement. One night as several regulars kabbitzed "backstage" Jeff "Mono Man" Connelly magically vanished before our eyes. He'd backed into the hole and plumetted into the cellar. Everyone was quiet for a moment, figuring he was lying dead with a broken neck. Suddenly a slurred voice from below groans "give me a fucking beer". Laughs all around. The Italian cook would save the uneaten bread in a steel bowl on top of the refrigerator to make bread crumbs out of. I noticed a few of the drunker musicians would use the bowl for an ashtray now and then. Needless to say I avoided ordering breaded dinners when eating at Cantones.

The transformation between Italian eatery and rock club was a simple one: the white bulb over the tiny stage was removed and a red light screwed into the socket. The tables would be pushed aside from the 8 by 10 foot dance floor, and viola! Rock club! The stage was only six inches or so off the ground so that the audience was at the same level as the band. This face to face setup made for an intimacy unrivalled in any other club. Metaphors were unnecessary- you really could feel the band's sweat, especially if they shook their heads vigorously!

There were incredible moments and absolutely hilarious ones at Cantones, both on a regular basis. The Troggs flew over from the UK to play Cantones, with the Real Kids opening three shows that packed the dining room, the bar, had people packed into the kitchen and right out the front door. I got there late and had to watch the first show through the back window. Later I went upstairs to the practice space the Real Kids rented as I could hear the band better through the floor than from the street. One typical incident on the ridiculous side: my band, the Bones, played a show with a band from the North Shore that loaded in with a truck full of gear. The drummer was one of those prima donnas that refused to play with less than his full kit, but he was a Genesis fan or something with an enormous set, including like 20 cymbals, tympani, and a huge gong! When he finished setting up it took up the entire stage and he even left out a few floor toms. The rest of the band had to set up their amps on the dance floor, and their shit was stretched out through the little hallway between the dining room and bar. We had to set up in front of that, and by the time we finished we were right off the dance floor and standing in among the audience. Which by the way was like 20 people, half of whom were immediately slammed back against the rear wall by the din and ran for cover into the bar.The four or five people who came to see us begged off, so the end of the night was a classic case of the equation "audience total equals sum of band's girlfriends plus zero".

For a tiny dive Cantone's left an indelible impression on the development of the local scene, as well as on the memories of countless musicians and fans. As soon as I put this article up on the site people began to send in their stories. Here are just a few of the comments I've received:
"I was in one of the many one-gig wonders that got the chance to play at Cantone's. Searched for cantones on the internet and found your site. I think we were called the shivers. We were inexperienced and the low stage scared me because we were so close to the very small audience. I was so embarrassed at how we sounded that after the set that I walked out and left all of my equipment. End of band. Great site" (Ben Atkinson)
"Joe, you forgot to mention one of the key features of the 'stage' at Cantone's (besides the single bare light bulb that was replaced for sets) - I'm talking about the leaky pipe! It may have been caused by condensation from the ancient semi-functional air conditioner, or it may have been from a source I'd rather not think about, seeing as how it was right over where I set up my bass amp, and I took many a splash on my head. I remember fearing for my life as I stood in a puddle, wondering if tonight was the night I'd go up in sparks. I also laugh at a memory I have of one night when you were onstage, trying to avoid the drip, but no matter where you stood the water ran a little further down the pipe and found you." (Bob Salvi)

That leak was a pain in the ass for everyone, but it was an especially unnerving feature for the handful of English groups that came to Cantone's over the years, because in the late 70's most old British amps were ungrounded, and there'd been a number of high-profile electrocutions at rock concerts in the UK. I remember the Troggs were bummed out when they saw the rivulet of water running from the back wall to the front of the stage. I set their minds at ease by explaining our safer US ground system, and by using my copy of Boston Rock to mop up the stage! Some nights during the "leaky pipe period" it looked like the bands were trying to paper train a puppy, what with all the sheets of newspaper on the floor. No matter- it was still the coolest place to play in town.

Baby's Arm at Cantones circa 1977: Carmen Monoxide, Richee Johnson, Frank Rowe and Billy Cole

Remakes at Cantones, 1982...note world famous overhead light bulb!

Big John, bartender/spirtitual advisor at Cantones.

The Girls ...could there have ever been a scene without them? Unless I'm mistaken, they all lived upstairs from Cantone's. Clockwise from bottom: Judy from the Maps, Pseudo Carol of the Rentals, ?, and possibly Jane Hudson.

In May, 2005, I got an email from Drew Clinton, revealing a bit about what it was like to be a resident in the space above Cantone's. In his words:

"In the late seventies I used to live in an illegal loft above Cantone's with my then wife Billie. Her stage name at the time was "Billie Club" and she played drums for a couple of early punk bands like Metropolis. I used to write articles for the Noise about local bands and (of course) was a musician and singer myself. I lived all around the city from 1975 until I moved to California in 1984. I drove for Town Taxi for some of those years. Your piece about Cantone's was truly a time machine for me. It was a venue like no other I have experience anywhere, and I've played them all! One of the most interesting aspects of Cantone's was the group of people who lived upstairs from the restaurant / bar. It was an eclectic a group as you'll ever meet rivaling (in extremism if not in scope) the characters in Warhol's Factory. There were (I believe) about 5 to 6 separate living spaces up there but they didn't all have full bathrooms. As a matter of fact our loft had a real bathtub and so we would let other tenants use it on a regular basis so there was always someone roaming around the place. There was a guy on the first floor named Buck who was a writer who was like a fixture at the bar downstairs. We spent a Christmas Eve getting plowed together at the bar with another tenant named Kenny, a hard ass punk chick from Kentucky. I remember the endless nights of loud music straining up from the club while we carried on upstairs. No sleep before 3am unless you were comatose. I could go on but the stories would be endless."

And the stories really are endless. John Fitzgeral stumbled on this site and sent me a list of ten top moments in his '77 - '82 "glory days" as a fan of Boston rock; of those two involved Cantones:

2. After drinking with the guys at Fanny Hall, stumbling into Cantones and seeing a guy get up from the audience, disrobe, and sing an impromptu version of the Doors "Break on Through." We still laugh about it to this day...
10. Sitting next to Barb Kitson and JA at the bar in Cantones as she was trying to memorize the words to a new song..she used the sheet!

Part of Cantones' importance to the local scene had to do with their laissez faire booking policy. This was a time when places to play were extremely limited, and those that existed often focused on specific styles or catered to the booking agent's pet cliche. There were bands and entire sub-genres of local music that played only at Cantones. The Rat at this time was dominated mainly by the roots rock and power pop groups: the Real Kids, Mickey Clean and the Mezz, Reddy Teddy,Willy Loco and the Boom Boom Band, DMZ,Third Rail,Thundertrain. Bands like Lou Miami, Bound and Gagged and Slow Children were given a first break at Cantones, and once they had established themselves and could draw an audience they could approach the Rat. Jim Harold was a businessman first, and his favorite acts were those that had a draw, bands like Fox Pass and the Atlantics. In addition to sure draws the list of preferred groups Jim had a soft spot for included the bands and musicians who pioneered live music at the Rat. If you didn't meet these criteria Cantones was practically your only route to a prestigious Rat gig. There was an economic boon to a Cantones gig as well. It was observed that at the Rat the "preferred" bands got a better shake at the door, while others often noticed a marked discrepancy between the head count and the amount they were paid at the end of the night. This unofficial "bouncer tax" was absent at Cantones, and they'd let you put your own person at the door if you wanted.