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VOLKER STRIFLER BAND AT PT. ARENA Arena Cinema, Pt. Arena, CA August 23, 2003 CLICK THE PICTURES AND THEY GET BIGGER! The word came out about a month ago: The Volker Strifler Band has a theatre show at the Arena Cinema. And it turned out that the Arena Cinema had an enlightened management and the theatre had been refurbished. The e-mails were flying in short order and the road trip organized.
We met at Donna's house mid-afternoon
on Saturday. Prior commitments had kept us from leaving earlier and attending
the community barbecue we were invited to. Crossing the Fulton Road line we
were on vacation, and as soon as the tunnel of redwoods started at
Point Arena is an interesting town, like all sea towns it's a little bleached by the ocean. Recent painting in town has brightened the main street and the move for a town renaissance is under way. I talked with local commercial fishermen, neo-hippies, surfers, and old ranch family people while I was there. It reminds me of the town of Mendocino 25 years ago before the rich found it. Sign in the general store: "Twenty year resident artist seeks larger studio space."
And right into the slide guitar smash "In Your Arms" with its signature riff somewhere outside the musical scale.
"The midnight suns nearly on the
rise,
Well, I finally found where my heart
belongs
Mama said when you're feeling blue
Well, I finally found where my heart
belongs (Volker Strifler)
"My friends all tell me I'm too nice
I'm movin' on (Volker Strifler) Taking breaks every 50 minutes the band simply rocked and bluesed the joint. At one of the breaks we went down the street to the Whale Bar and got a beer. A cowboy type guy was playing Willie Nelson records on the jukebox. He said to a young woman he knew "Man, that's some great music!" She said, "It's right up the street!" She chugged her beer and headed back to the theatre with the rest of us. The band did one of my Volker favorites the best I've ever heard them do it. Somebody Help Me (Hanging Tough)
"Smack dab in the middle of nowhere,
Sometimes it's rough (Volker Strifler) The horn work on this is wild and sets up Volker's driving roadhouse guitar work to a 'Tee.' All is all this was a wonderful night of the blues in advanced form. Volker is a wonder as a songwriter and arranger. The audience became more and more vocal, cheering each song. The band was animated and driving. The urge to dance happened to me strongly several times---and Volker and David would take me away in their solos. At the end of the third set Volker said "Well that's it, thanks everybody, I guess that's all we have." Those of us who know Volker started laughing: "Mr. Stage." The crowd was having none of it. They began stamping boom, boom, boom, boom, on the floor, whistling, and yelling. The band was forced to come back and play an encore. Volker looked a little non-plussed---they'd played all their worked-out tunes in three fantastic hours. We all kind of chuckled. The dance floor was full for the encore. What a wonderful night. After a quick drive up the highway to see if the lighthouse was open (no) it was back to the motel and van (Mo, I'm not gonna die from sleeping in the van, I was a 60's hippie and a 70's Sierra backpacker, I can sleep anywhere) and a beautiful night's sleep. Awakening to the pearly light that only seems to happen in the coastal zone I went for a walk around Point Arena, enjoying the weathered quality the ocean has given this old town. It looks like the old Mendocino County of thirty years ago. Reading the fliers in the store windows I discovered that the barbecue we'd been invited to but unable to attend had been the annual Community Barbecue and 'surf-offs' (entry requirements: show up at 7:00 a.m. with $20 and get on the list. Heats all day) at a local cove-bring the kids. Damn, I missed it. And also the community library drive and banquet had been that Saturday early evening too. Carlini's excellent little restaurant opened and I treated myself to breakfast and strong coffee (delicious pan fries with fresh tomato). Stopping in the general store I discovered the proprietor and a local commercial fisherman engaged in full banter about the prices the store charged. Getting another coffee and the Sunday paper I ambled back to the motel to find that I'd failed to get coffee for the newly awoken. We amiably sat at the outside table working through the paper and drinking coffee in the sunshine. Don Bassey joined us and told us stories about how nice it had been for the musicians. "This could become a semi-annual event!" Slowly working up to packing up, we loaded up the van and decided to take the time to go to the lighthouse. We arrived just before it opened and waited at the white picket gate. The longhaired gate guard opened up and in we went. We passed some of the large three bedroom two bath houses they rent out there (hmm, maybe next time?) and on to the parking area and museum. Lots of nice early machinery for the foghorns. Nice gift shop. Terrific sea views. The lighthouse tour formed and it was time to take on the fantastic voyage into a hundred years ago. The lighthouse was built in the 1870s and the masonry was so badly damaged in the 1906 earthquake that it had to be taken down. But all the original hand forged or early machine shop ironwork was re-used. As I climbed the six stories of iron spiral stair I was struck by the beautiful craftsmanship of the stairs and window embrasures. It was like visiting the inside of the Statue of Liberty. Along about the fifth story level I paused with thigh 'burn' and looked out a window at the ocean. A spare, clean view out to sea. Arriving at the top the keeper explained the rules to us (don't touch the Fresnel lens!). She showed us the platform under the lens where the original flame lamps had been. Then we were allowed up on the lens level in a very narrow space. The hundreds of fantastic circular prisms the lens is made of competed with fabulous long ocean views. Our time there was too short. We fantasized about having a small blues festival at the Arena Theatre and hiring a bus for the Santa Rosa fans, renting the big houses at the lighthouse and being able to attend the barbecue and surf-offs. Then the long beautiful drive back down the coast to Jenner and up the lower Russian River. At Fulton Road Mo said, "This is where reality starts again." Damn. It had been only twenty-two hours but seemed a three-day vacation. Gotta get back to Point Arena again. ...Rolf Olmsted
Rolf Olmsted was born on the banks of the Mississippi River and had a dog and played his father's mandolin. He was exposed to the blues at an early age which accounts for it. Among his accomplishments are reproduction, a collection of cheap guitars, and computer semi-literacy. He's guilty of attempted guitar and mandolin playing. |
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Forestville
the windows came down as we wound down River Road and the lower Russian River to Jenner-by-the-Sea. Joining Highway One we immediately began the climbing along
the high cliffs. Right
at the Pacific there is a high country at sea level. The roads are all
breakable and fall into the sea every few years. It is a remarkable experience
driving high country switchbacks at sea level and staring down at the ocean far
below. After many miles of cliffs, at Stewart's Point the land develops a
"bench" between the ocean and the mountains. The drive continues northward
through Sea Ranch, Gualala, Anchor Bay, and over the Mendocino County line to
Point Arena. A scenic drive beyond compare. Coastal Monterey cypresses leaning
eastward shaped by the wind. The ocean breaking on the rocks. Two
tough-looking brown pelicans flying single file somewhere up the oceanfront.
