My time a Camp Equifunk is going swimmingly! I just wanted to let you know that the best kept secret in music festivals this summer was Equifunk. Held annually in late August at a summer camp in the Pocono’s, this sucker went off like part Jam cruise, part Wet Hot American Summer. Done as an all-inclusive festival for a few bills you get all you can eat and drink and a cabin to drop in when the days over. Friday evening was packed with some hard hitting funk from a super group comprised of Robert Walter, Eddie Roberts and Adam Deitch. These three slayed a two hour set and filled it with goodies from the 20th Congress, the New Mastersounds and some straight up jamming that sent our heads spinning and feet on fire. Bottles of panty dropper (aka sweet tea vodka) went dry early due to this hot arrangement and their wild golf-cart ride through the dark woods brand of funk. Karl Denson and his Tiny Universe was no stranger to the late night and Karl was quick to notice that many of the attendees were past campers here. He blew apart his set with some nasty funky flute work and a stellar cover of the Cold War Kid’s “Hang Me out to Dry”. Before we called it a night we felt it fitting to run a pair of underwear up the flag pole in a salute to all great camp antics.
Saturday started with a hearty breakfast in the mess hall and a rousing round of morning activities. Then it was off to the E-Quatics pool complete with a stage and a massive water slide. Saturday’s are meant for pool parties and this one was no slouch with music by Turquaz and The Big Dirty. The party went off for 6 rowdy hours of beach balls flying, bikinis, beer, and one massive splashing finale featuring a raucous cover of The Isley Brothers Shout! The evening brought on a lazy atmosphere and the 400 or so funk campers hung on the ball field and hills for a ribs and chicken BBQ complete with a tub of the coldest vanilla ice-cream this side of Vermont. The evening was a blur as we polished off the remaining rum, sweat
tea vodka and some wild concoction made with Port and an unknown substance called the Brooklyn Yipper. By the time The New Deal took the stage, the crowd and our mangy pack had collided on the dance floor and it was an all-out assault on the floor boards as we danced our way into the late-night. When it was over we ran into Stan, a lifer at camp Equinunk who pulled us into his art studio for a late-night session with clay and his own Zen philosophy. Thanks Stan you placed the proverbial cherry on the sundae of a perfect weekend. So folks I am off to color war. Please send more fresh underwear!
P.S. Below is a video of that crazy Saturday Pool Party