a family trip to Connecticut for three days of music

We got home late Sunday night, broke and dirty, from the 12th annual Gathering of the Vibes in Bridgeport, Conn. I had never been before, but have been on a mission the last couple of years to expose my children—15-year-old Spence and 11-year-old Grace—to as wide a variety of musical styles as I can while they are still willing to accompany me to shows. Since I try to take them on at least one camping trip every summer, I chose the Vibes as this year’s destination. I got my money’s worth at this festival—the kids were definitely exposed to a lot of music.

We arrived on Friday, Aug. 10, later than planned (we missed the tribute to Jerry Garcia on Thursday due to work obligations), after a longer than anticipated drive, and arrived at the beautiful 370-acre Seaside Park in Bridgeport at exactly the same time as a mini-monsoon. We got soaking wet, but the storm broke us in rather quickly for the authentic dirty hippie experience. Since we were late arrivals, we weren’t allowed to drive our car in as advertised, and my two children and I had to haul our stuff in on our backs and pitch our tent in the pouring rain. We did it, and I was rather proud of this seemingly insignificant accomplishment. There were about 17,000 people at the festival, so camping is tight, and there are different camping neighborhoods. We were in “family land,” which was between “RV land” and the “sober oasis,” a nice wooded area with a breezy view of Long Island Sound. The land was originally donated to the city by P.T. Barnum.

We trudged into the concert field late Friday afternoon to eat and hear some of Railroad Earth, but my vibe tribe was whining, so we retired to the tent to play word games. From there, with great guilt, I listened to Dickey Betts wail on his guitar. He was really rewarding those who could tolerate the rain, and I was disappointed to miss it. Later that evening, when it cleared up a bit, I returned for a bit of The Mickey Hart Band and a full set from George Clinton and P-Funk. Clinton’s show was a blast, and I heard several people remark the next day that they’d never heard anything like it. His granddaughter had joined him onstage and bravely sang songs in front of her Grandpa. The closing show that night was a tribute to James Brown by Deep Banana Blackout. Their lead vocalist, Jen Durkin, was amazing, and a big hit with all the young men.

When the sun rose on Saturday morning, it stayed out for the rest of the festival and was glorious. (Sunshine is especially handy when one of your three stages is solar powered.) That day, we heard Stangefolk, Assembly of Dust, Keller (no Keels), Les Claypool and, of course, Bob Weir and Ratdog. In a sweet gesture, perhaps because Larry and Jenny Keel were no-shows, Bobby joined Keller Williams onstage for awhile and made all of the smiling people smile more. Not surprisingly, my least favorite act was my teenage son’s favorite, Les Claypool. The bassist was interesting, just not my style. That’s the great thing about music festivals—everyone in your group will find something to love.

Sunday morning, after my daily yoga class on the concert field, the kids and I broke down our campsite, played at the beach awhile and then returned to the field for another scorching day of music. Martin Sexton and The Wailers each put on a lively, crowd-pleasing set, but for me it always comes down to Louisiana music. The Dirty Dozen Brass Band and Buddy Guy were my favorites (much to my children’s chagrin, as they still don’t really appreciate it when Mama gets her groove on). Mr. Guy is the man, and I hope to see more of him. At one point, he purred “I’m gonna play ya’ something so funky, you’re gonna be able to smell it.” With this crowd, at this point in the weekend, we already smelled pretty darn funky, I thought.

Which brings me to my criticism of the Vibes: It shouldn’t take rocket science to figure out how many port-o-potties are needed for a sold-out crowd. What the funk? I wouldn’t have been so disappointed by the serious shortage of hygienic facilities if the official Vibes Web site hadn’t oversold the amenities I was purchasing. It’s always best not to set people up for disappointment.

Overall, it was a very good time, and an artistically well-organized event, but I don’t think I can recommend bringing your kids next year. It is meant to be family friendly, with a kid’s tent, a teen scene, a playground, a family circus and a parade. The crowd was, of course, very peaceful and pleasant. But, back when I was sowing my oats, I seem to recall an unspoken code about when and where to do certain inappropriate things that probably shouldn’t be done at all. There was no such code at The Vibes. Drugs were sold and used openly throughout the festival. I don’t regret bringing my kids; I know in the next few years they’ll be exposed to all of that on their own, and I believe it’s good for them to see their mother navigate such an environment responsibly. But I wouldn’t suggest it for every family.

On the other hand, it might be exactly what you need. When was the last time you went through a “karma wash?” It’s a pleasant experience provided by a strangely dressed but nice man using a feather duster. That I do highly recommend for everyone.

One utterly unexpected thing that came out of the festival is that, while viewing the traveling Jerry Garcia art show, I became the proud new owner of a limited edition printing of his watercolor painting “Poet Reflects The War.” Even if it turns out to be a poor investment, I get a really good vibe from it.