The Beat: Spring Issue 2020

i s s ue 1 5 | s pr i ng/f al l 2 0 2 0

F e e l it .

F o ll o w it .

g n i g d i br the distance

The Art of Staying Connected in a Time of Crisis

FEEL IT. FOLLOW IT. FOUNDED 2011 ISSUE #15 | SPRING/FALL 2020

letter from the editor Amidst a global pandemic, SUNY Purchase’s artists, writers, musicians, and performers persevered. While crushed with the news that their second home was closing its doors, studios, and resources, the students accommodated, because that’s what strong and talented individuals do.

We adapt. After the premature goodbyes and untimely emotional crossroads, some students returned to their old spaces while some stayed back and self-quarantined on campus. This is not an easy task for anyone. Our current situation and state of the world is something so completely new, out of the blue, and beyond our control. If no one has experienced anything like this, who do we look to for guidance? Confusion and frustration fill the air like a thick fog, wearing masks are the new normal, and I went food shopping with rubber gloves on.

EDITOR-IN-CHIEF: Sophia Hadeshian MANAGING EDITOR: Olivia Duff-Rogliano REVIEWS EDITOR: Olivia Duff-Rogliano SENIOR WRITERS: Gabriel Aponte, Jordan Meiland, Johanna Sommer PHOTOGRAPHERS: Sophia Hadeshian, Jordan Meiland ILLUSTRATORS: Maria Darron, Sophia Hadeshian CHIEF DESIGNER: Maria Darron PUBLISHER/FACULT Y ADVISER: Andrew Salomon FOUNDING CONTRIBUTORS The staff thanks all who generously give to make The Beat possible, including: Frank & Rebekah Ahrens, Michael Long, Diane O’Brien, Sheryl Huggins, Eric Kaplan, Richard Alfredo, Anonymous, Ross Daly, Larry Elkin, Meri Beth Jones, Janet Kelsey, Robin Lynch, Nancy Kaplan, Suzanne Kessler, Madeline & Gerald Marinaccio, Michael & JoAnn Marinaccio, Theresa & Jim McElwaine, Tony Reid, George D. Reilly, Marisol Rodriguez, Charles Salomon, Robert Cook & Kealy Salomon, In Memory of Marylee R. Salomon, Samantha Strassberg, Kenneth Tabachnick, Louise Yelin, Philip Kaplan, Gloria Castro, Dave Catuogno, Laurie Engemann, Tara George, Noel Holston & Marty Winkler, Patricia R. Klausner, Kristin & James Luebbert, Nathan Lunstrum, Jeffrey & Peyton Marcus, Sheyla Navarro, Gail & Richie Porter, Dianne Rotondo, Julie & Anthony Rotondo, Tina Marie Rotondo, Maria Somma, StamptheBand.com, Stacey Strassberg, Rebecca Strassberg, Matt Semel, Tad Welch, Mary Alice Williams, Anonymous, Donald Beard, Virginia & Tom Breen, Donna Cornachio, Alexa Dillenbeck, Vinny Duwe, Mara Goldman, Paul Griffin, Bella Feldman, Charlie Fonville, Johnette Howard, Cheryl Kushner, Guara Narayan, Melissa Ortiz, Judy Hoffstein & Joel Patenaude, Ronni Reich, Patrick P. Salomon, Laurence Sheinman, Stéphane Verlé-Smith, Kathleen Tolan, Tina Carletto, Andrew Marinaccio, Julian Rubinstein, Andrew Scott, Halley Bondy, Kathryn Churchill, Laura Chmielewski, Luke Crowe, Scott Duwe, William Franke, Leslie & Tony Goldsmith, Harper Habbersett, Anna Helhoski, Scott Interrante, Bill Junor, Ted Kaplan, Shomar L., William A. Loeb, Jillian Lucas, Tiffany Lumsden, Christine Perner, Alexandra Pusateri, Gene Seymour, Lily Thrall, Chrissy Vitolo, Mark Waldron, Purchase College Affiliates

Adjusting to the strange and current ordinary, Purchase’s students have been finding creative and productive ways to occupy their time in self-quarantine. I personally have been nothing short of amazed at what talent comes out of isolation and reflection. Although the resources Purchase offers are essential to many, as well as the space it provides, we make do. Whether it’s a slab of wood atop our bed as a makeshift desk or a closet as a recording booth, we are adapting. Social media has taken on a more dependant role in our society, keeping everyone connected and involved from a distance. The Purchase community continues to exist and work together, even if we aren’t currently physically side by side.

It is only appropriate that the Beat takes a direction that displays the talent, power and unlimited capability of Purchase’s students. It’s easy, especially right now, to see the bad in the world. Although this is our current reality, that doesn’t change the fact that there is no productivity within negative thoughts. Despite this, the Beat has seen and received such a stimulus of positivity from the Purchase community. Amazing is an understatement in describing the motivation and encouragement we have and have given each other. From all of us at the Beat, we wish the students, faculty, and staff nothing but good health and happiness!

—Sophia Hadeshian, editor-in-chief

letter from the publisher Publisher’s Note: When the novel coronavirus pandemic hit, it affected everything, even The Beat. Proudly print, the magazine will shift online, at least for the spring. Some contributors could not turn in scheduled work due to the unprecedented disruptions in their lives, so editor-in-chief Sophia Hadeshian reached out to friends and classmates to help fill the empty pages. As a result, we are showcasing fiction and portions of Senior Projects for the first time.

In pulling together this issue, Sophia has shown foresight, patience, resolve and leadership, and her historic changes have strengthened our founding vision: to capture the artistic, cultural and social vitality of the Purchase College community. I am certain that the seven people who have held the post of editor-in-chief prior to Sophia would marvel at her accomplishments. I know I do.

—Andrew Salomon, publisher and faculty adviser

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table of contents

UPFRONT

FEATURES

BACKBEAT

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12

26

BY NIA GIOKAS Boxed in with box wine, the author fights her way free, one missive at a time.

BY JORDAN MEILAND Dumpster, a self-described queer hardrock group, is having serious fun as it shakes up the Purchase music scene.

BY MOSS ROBESON In lieu of Culture Shock, a look back at Purchase concerts historic and hysterical.

POSTCARDS FROM THE EDGE

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NOT-SO-SIMPLY SIMULATING

BY CATE COLLINS A Senior Project—involving a makeshift dorm-room reality show and the videogame “The Sims”—became oddly prescient in a time suddenly defined by social distancing.

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FICTION

BY SIOBHAN HART “Lima and the Diving Horse”

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YEAR IN REVIEW

BY OLIVIA DUFF-ROGLIANO Remember the time before COVID19? Fortunately, we were on the case before the outbreak.

HOT GARBAGE

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THE PRODUCERS

BY JOHANNA SOMMER A look at the Studio Production program in the Music Conservatory.

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THE REMIX OF YOSHI T

BY GABRIEL APONTE Originally accepted into the conservatory to study classical clarinet, Yoshimasa Takahashi has turned toward producing.

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REWIND

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SILENT SHOCK

BY AMY PANILLIA The co-major events coordinators rose to meet every last-minute challenge thrown at them to assemble Culture Shock 2020.

Then there was one hurdle too high.

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CRITIC’S NOTEBOOK

BY OLIVIA DUFF-ROGLIANO Once an outlying theme in the pop/rock universe, non-traditional forms of masculinity are asserting themselves in the mainstream.

APT PLACES TO PLAY

BY JORDAN MEILAND Apartments and other makeshift venues, once a necessity due to space limitations, are increasingly preferred by some campus bands.

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SHELTER FROM THE STORM

BY JORDAN MEILAND As the novel coronavirus sweeps the globe, musicians have hunkered down.

The Beat hears from five from Purchase who are adapting to the changes.

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THE QUARANTINE DIARIES A Journey of Self-Entertainment

M

y new project was born from the need for entertainment, productivity, and comfort in the confines of self-quarantine during the Corona Virus pandemic. Initially, I had been working on a print series dealing with my childhood: Being born in Greece, having my father and half my family still there, while growing up and living in New York City. My plan was to take these prints and make a series of postcards out of them. I had planned to sell them at Purchase’s Zine Feast as well as displaying them at the end of the year at my senior show. I’ve always had an obsession with collecting postcards from wherever I could find them: museum gift shops, if I traveled, at art exhibitions, in stores, wherever, I just take them and hang them on my wall or something.

Suddenly classes were moved online in early March, and we were asked to move off campus shortly after. In all the chaos and instability, I found myself feeling completely detached from my schoolwork, my project, and really anything creative or productive. I honestly just wanted to sit and watch Tik-Tok’s, drink wine and eat candy. My senior project advisor and I spoke over the phone, and I was very much in the headspace of thinking I wouldn’t finish my project or graduate. He was understanding but recommended that if I was in fact feeling super defeated or sad, why don’t I just write that shit down every day, and maybe I’d find a new spark.

But when I got back home from school, I ignored what he said, got into bed and started watching Netflix. My grandma called me and said she was so bored and that I was lucky I could at least paint or draw to keep myself busy. My mom then

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BY NIKI GIOKAS

walked in and told me how sad she was and how she missed her friends, and that her only hobby was seeing people, and again, that I was so lucky to be able to draw or something to entertain myself. I continued to lay in bed, laptop open, with my bag of Doritos.

Then I decided to redecorate my room. My walls are covered in postcards, stickers, torn magazines, and book pages. As I was ripping things off the wall to replace with other things I had up at school, I found that almost all the postcards on my walls were sent to me with a letter on the back. I know, that’s not that cool, that’s what postcards are for. But, I was surprised because now that my friends, my family, and I text and use social media, I never send or receive mail anymore.

There were letters from my dad scribbled on the back with his Greek-style alphabet English hybrid handwriting about what he did that day and what the image on the postcard was, (He loves to give me history lessons on Greece). I had letters from my friends from middle school when we realized how rewarding it was to send and receive mail. And going through these handwritten messages, all that had yellowed and faded just a little over the years, was a really sweet moment I didn’t expect to have in the sad, lonely, isolation of self-quarantine. And when I was done reading them, I stuck them right back on the wall so I could find them in another few years and have that little moment of human connection by myself again.

This is the moment that I realized that I wanted to send the people that I love some mail, so

they too could feel that little moment of human connection while they’re home alone. And as it turned out, my grandma and my mom were right; I am lucky that I can draw and paint to keep myself entertained. I decided to hybrid my project advisor’s idea of writing down my feelings every day with my love of postcards.

I painted a few postcards a day each dealing a small victory such as getting out of bed, cracking open a book, opening a bottle of wine, or something I found to entertain myself- such as shaving my legs for 15 whole minutes!

These postcards serve two major purposes: 1) It gives me something to do all day. I genuinely am having an amazing time sitting in my room, doodling all day, not realizing how many hours have passed. It is productive enough that my Mom doesn’t judge me for not doing homework, leaving my room or drinking boxes of wine. And it’s comforting finding some humor each day while the news is playing in the background, reminding us of the horrible and tragic reality of the world at the moment.

2) The second purpose is that I hope that once someone receives the postcard in the mail, that they will feel that little moment of human connection, maybe have a little laugh, and maybe feel inspired to find something to creatively entertain themselves, or realize that the small thing they did that day was indeed a victory! Or maybe they won’t and they'll just admire it for a moment, and stick it up on their wall for another time.

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Virtually Undaunted

by Real-World Problems

A year of simulating life for a Senior Project takes an odd and urgent turn.

BY CATE COLLINS SUNY Purchase faces a unique issue because we are a small liberal arts college with a conservatory of arts programs. How are you supposed to get a bachelor’s degree in dance or painting and drawing when you can’t go to the physical classrooms and buildings where you did all your work? Underclassmen and faculty alongside seniors are facing the daunting task of restructuring their entire syllabus to fit in a “distanced learning environment.” We didn’t expect to be taking Zoom classes and meeting with our professors over FaceTime, but we’re getting through it.

In addition to our classes taking on new shapes, seniors also have the challenge of proceeding with their senior projects. Senior projects are worked on and shaped in our final two-semesters, many of them representing the seniors themselves and their time here. Robbed of the remainder of our time at Purchase, we no longer have the environment every class preceding us was given while working on their projects.

Like many other students who have a creative or artistic aspect of their senior project, we were promised or given the opportunity to exhibit our work in the many spaces Purchase offers.

Usually, our friends and loved ones would be able to see what we had been pouring our blood, sweat, and tears into for the past two semesters.

But for most of us graduating seniors, that is no longer a possibility. It is no longer safe to be in a public space with over 10 people. We don’t get the chance to show off our hard work. So how do you stay motivated?

As a Media Studies student, I have always gravitated towards more digitally centric projects.

My senior project is centered around the game the Sims. I am particularly interested in how players narratives’ connect and disconnect from their real-world selves by looking at embodiment, virtuality, and neoliberalism and how that connects to disabled and able-bodied players.

In addition to my paper exploring those ideas, I also have a stop motion video starring paper doll versions of myself and my roommates recreating scenes from our “real” world. The video is called “Our Perfect Life” and it takes place in my on-campus apartment. The paper dolls are replicas of myself and my roommates and our set consists of pictures I have taken of our 6

living room and bathroom in order to create a 2-dimensional diorama, so the dolls will be to scale. It is set in a reality TV format, in that each segment starts out with the theme song and the show continues with a scene depicting a reenactment/dramatization of real-life events that have happened in the apartment between my roommates and myself. The scenes following consist of “confessional booth” shots of the dolls in the bathroom, by themselves, giving their opinion of the situation to the viewers. In my video, I use my roommates real voices as their corresponding doll’s voices, as well as in the show’s theme song.

The video is meant as a representation of my world in the way that many players recreate their worlds when they play the Sims. I used paper dolls to play with the idea of virtuality and embodiment. I crafted these dolls using my own hands, scissors, and a glue stick.

Through creating this video I am exploring different ways we idealize and change our world in representing it in another way, be it virtually in the Sims or physically through the use of paper dolls.

I’m incredibly lucky to be able to create my project from the comfort of my own room. This was never something that had to be in my initial project planning but is now a crucial aspect for a lot of senior’s projects. I am also lucky that I will be able to show my video to anyone who wants to see it. We live in a social media world and as soon as I post my project online, all of my friends and loved ones can see it just as I imagined.

That being said, there are some glaringly obvious negatives to the new learning environment we have found ourselves in.

Although I am able to work on my project from home, I am lacking in self-motivation to actually do it. It is important to remember that although we won’t be able to physically show off all of our hard work, a digital representation over social media can be just as rewarding.

Cate Collins is a senior Media Studies major.

fiction

Illustration by Sophia Hadeshian

Lima and the Diving Horse

BY SIOBHAN HART

I

was two when my grandmother, Clementine, died. My mom inherited only one object from her, which has been hanging in our dining room ever since. It’s a black and white photograph in a sturdy wooden frame of my great Aunt Lima, my grandmother’s sister, diving a horse off of a sixty-foot platform. The photo is dated 1969, and I’ve been staring at it all of my life. Lima’s face isn’t even visible in the photo; she’s hunched, almost wrapped around, her horses neck; her face is tucked in as she prepares for the dive.

She and the horse are captured mid-air, frozen in the middle of the picture, half obscuring the audience gawking from the stands.

The photo, of course, comes with a story, which has passed straight from the heart of the source to Clementine. She told it to my mom when she was little, and then my mom told another version of it to me right when I was born, and probably in the womb, too. I can just see my mom, long hair braided, eating Spanish olives out of the jar and reciting the tale like a nursery rhyme, to her swollen belly:

“When your great Aunt Lima was a young girl, she really loved horses. She would sit on the floor of her house, which is now our house, and cut scraps of magazines into the shapes that make up the body. She would oh-so carefully stitch them together, those ovals and rectangles, and create her own makeshift horses.”

Sometimes, when I was really little, my mom would wait until this part of the story and then start to cut up newspaper clippings and make her own horse, to show me. I became very adept at making horses out of all different kinds of paper, carving out more and more sophisticated replicas as we practiced it. The sound of the scissors sliding across paper seems synchronized to the sound of the words in my memory.

“Eventually, her parents subscribed to one of those tack and horse gear magazines, so she could find actual pictures of horses to hang on the wall, but after a few months of that she lost interest. She had just turned eleven and started to smoke cigarettes, which to her, made her the antecedent of a horse girl.

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Your grandma Clementine was just a few years younger than her, but Lima told her everything.

She would chain smoke out of their bedroom window and tell Clementine all about her adventures, and the dangers she had cultivated that day. When Lima was really bored, she’d climb out their window, swinging off the edge until Clementine was shrieking, and then flop down into the bushes like she was making a great escape. Sometimes she would come home swaying and giggling, and other times forlorn, clothes tattered from running through the woods with her friends.

She would tell Clementine that the only way to really experience life was to make life, and that she was making it. On sunny days she would just sit in the doorway, at the border of her space and public space, and stare out into the lively neighborhood. Other times, she would go join it. But when she was really tired, she would tell Clementine about the space between her and other people, that infinite space, which feels liminal and transient but is a permanent borderline that we reside in.

And then one day, just like that, she got older, came home, packed her bags and promptly disappeared. At least for a few months.”

By the time I turned eight, I would interject at this part every time to ask why she would run away- I understood her actual, concrete reasons from the rest of the story, but I was looking for what sparked the internal decision to do so, what emotion. My mother would always shrug and say she only knew what grandma told her; she didn’t really, actually know anything about Aunt Lima. I hated this part of the story, but I enacted the performance dutifully, asking each and every time, as if one day she might answer: I really did know your long dead great Aunt Lima, and she was just like you. Or she could even say: she was nothing like you- and thank god for it.

And we would know why she left and what she felt and did and saw, before the photo where she’s diving a horse.

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But my mom was never able to say this, of course.

My mom hadn’t actually met Aunt Lima either, because she lived far away when she was born and she died far away too. My mom didn’t even know what far-away meant, either, where Aunt Lima went or what she was doing after the horse diving. And grandma Clementine never really explained it to my mom, and now she was dead so we couldn’t ask her. My questions sometimes made my mom sad, I realized as I got older. They pointed towards absences and gaps in story she hadn’t wondered about, or never asked, and the fact that anyone she could ask could not answer made her look around helplessly.

Despite her sadness, I spent most of my youth pressing after every detail, everything I could get from the same set of words. Everything I could learn about Lima I could check to see if I also did, or smelled like, or resembled. And I could cross check that with my mother, and ask her if she ever looked for these resemblances, or rather semblances, since all she had was my grandmother and not the original. But my mother’s account didn’t ever really vary or change. It always went on the same way because that’s how things go when they’ve already happened.

“So the story goes that Aunt Lima met some guys from the circus, and she had nothing better to do so she disappeared to travel with them for awhile. Clementine’s parents didn’t know where she went, so Clementine could only imagine things for herself. She did know, always, that Lima would come back at some point and tell her everything. Of course, she never imagined Lima in the circus- but when Lima came back, that’s where she claimed she had been.

After a few months, she stopped by the house one day, as if she had never left. Clementine first caught sight of her through a window.

She was ambling up to the house, light blue windbreaker, hair messily tossed up as it always was. Clementine had bolted to the door, throwing it open and her own arms around her sister, who felt larger than usual, like she was taking up more space.

She walked into their house as if she was just coming home from another day of school, strolling in and flopping down on the worn gray couch. She put her legs up on the arm, and cracked her back, closing her eyes for a moment.

She glanced around to make sure only she and Clementine were there.

“I have the opportunity of a lifetime, right here in the neighborhood,” she stated, opening up her arms and tilting her head to glance at Clementine, who was old enough now and had felt her absence long enough to regard this kind of statement with some suspicion.

“And what’s that?” she asked, and her sister straightened up, a gleam in her eyes. Still, she looked fondly at Clementine for a moment, as if remembering her face after a long time.

“I’ve been gone for awhile,” she said.

Clementine regarded her coldly. “Yes, I know about that.”

“I’ve been touring with the circus, and now I’ve found something even better.”

Clementine struggled to answer, so instead decided to remain silent.

“I’m going to be…” she did a mock drumroll with her hands on the arm rest of the couch, and then chuckled to herself. “I’m going to dive horses”.

Clementine snorted despite herself, and raised an eyebrow to try to keep her composure.

“Do you even know how to ride horses?”

Anyways, when I got old enough my mom stopped telling the story here. She says things start to slip away after awhile, even the stories your mother tells you. It just unravels a little too much in your mind. Sometimes I think my mom stops talking here because it’s the last place my grandmother still included herself in Lima’s story. Other times I think she makes up

the parts where her mom talks to Lima. She just thinks about what she knows her mom would say, and places words in that seem natural to the story. But when the edges of Lima’s narrative get blurry like this, and I can sort of see my mother glimmer there, I know we are on the border of the story she knows and the story she wants to tell instead. The one she knows is of the Clementine with the sister Lima and the diving horses, and the one she desires, circles around, is the Clementine that is becoming her Clementine, our Clementine.

She stopped wanting to or stopped knowing how to tell the rest of the story, but I think I can without my mother by now. I’ve looked at Lima’s image for so many years of my life that I feel I could scoop the very essence of myself out of my body and dump all of that into the picture- into that moment- to be either her or the horse or the spectators. Once I knew I could tell myself the rest, I stopped asking to hear about her at all. The constant reiteration of the story in my mother’s voice had become so rhythmic and inextricably tied to other parts of myself that I couldn’t really hear it clearly. The words themselves had been lost, the meaning slipping into the sound they made when they were given voice. Instead, I had to return to the image I always had in front of me.

There’s something in the spontaneous, silent moment of the dive that feels very present around me even when I’m seeing it through the photo. I can feel it vibrating out the story my grandma told my mother and my mother told me. It feels very real, but by the time I feel myself reaching towards the primary experiencer, Lima, she’s become unavailable, an empty space.

At these moments, the photo warps, becoming overwhelming in its distance from me. After I feel this way her lack of content becomes all the more apparent, rather than making me feel connected. I can see her body shape, the curve of her shoulders; but her face disappears each time into dark, pixelated space.

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THE YEAR IN REVIEW

The 2019-20 academic year will be forever defined by the COVID-19 global pandemic that forced the early departure of most students from campus and shifted the last half of the spring semester to online-only. But, before the week of March 9, when the college began rapidly adapting to the crisis, other notable things happened in our world.

The following is a brief reminder of “Life Before the Coronavirus,” in case you, understandably, had forgotten.

BY OLIVIA DUFF-ROGLIANO

SEPT 23 Sophomore Nicole Botte worked as a makeup artist for Revival Swim’s New York Fashion Week Spring 2020 runway show

NOV 2 AUG 5 Photo cour

Purchase is named one of the Top 385 Colleges in the Nation by The Princeton Review, and is also listed as one of the Best Northeastern Colleges and a Best Value College.

Samara McLendon ’21 Wins the Sassy Award at the Sarah Vaughan International Jazz Vocal Competition.

te sy of Pe rsona Non Grata

WEEK OF AUG 19 Center for Media, Film & Theatre officially opens on campus, for faculty events.

DEC 9 SEPT 7 Sean Ishikawa ’20 creative director of Persona Non Grata debuted his spring 2020 at New York Fashion Week

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Sophomores Andres HernandezRodriguez and Brian Farez win STartUP Purchase for their on-site mobile car washing and detailing service company, Tri-State Mobile Wash.

JAN 27 Einstein Bagels opens on campus.

JAN 27 Jon Samson (’03) wins the Grammy for Best Children’s Music Album for “Ageless Songs for the Child Archetype.”

JAN 16 Garth Greenwell (Class of ’01) Released new novel “Cleanness”

FEB 3 Design/Tech Senior Marissa Michaels interned on the lighting crew during Super Bowl LIV in Miami (This was made possible by alumni Dave Grill [’86], who is both an associate professor of theatre design/technology at Purchase as well as Lighting Director for the Halftime Show.)

FEB 10 Andrew Buckland (’94) wins the Oscar for his work editing “Ford v Ferrari.”

JAN 13 Current Durst Lecture Edwidge Danticat announced as finalist for National Book Critics Circle Award in Fiction for her book “Everything Inside”

JAN 28

FEB 4

Travel photographer, writer, and advocate Erin Sullivan (’12) delivered a TED Talk on the question “Does photographing a moment steal the experience from you?”

The Princeton Review named Purchase College as one of the “Top 200 Best Value Colleges” in the nation in their 2020 Best Value College Guide.

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Parcells and Mansfield up in front.

Du mpster

s n o i t a t c e p x E Trashes

A Dive Into the World of Purchase’s Queer Hard-Rock Band STORY & PHOTOS BY JORDAN MEILAND

N

ovember 2018. In the basement of the Music Building, a show is happening. Grace Goss rides around on a razor scooter adorned with a cowbell, distributing earplugs to the audience as their bandmate, Claire Parcells, performs solo.

Later in the set, the cowbell would be played for the song “The Birbs,” a rap song they don’t perform anymore.

Dumpster’s first gig was, undoubtedly, quite the spectacle.

Of all the bands and artists on campus, none embody the spirit of Purchase College quite like Dumpster. The all-sophomore, queer hardrock group is breaking the molds of how a band should look, perform and behave. And, gosh, they’re doing it well.

The band, consisting of Goss (drums, vocals and guitar), Parcells (guitar, vocals and drums) and Cally Mansfield (bass and vocals) is one of the most carefree groups on campus, and that has worked in its favor.

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“I think that people, from what I’ve heard, like us because it’s not too serious,” Goss says.

“We don’t take ourselves too seriously. We’re ultimately just trying to have a good time. At the end of the day, you should be having a good time and your audience should be having a good time.”

Parcells agrees, saying “It’s a very touch-and-go thing. We make sure Dumpster’s always the fun thing.”

“It’s like three frontpeople all in one band,” Mansfield says. “To an extent, we’re all Animal from the Muppets. On stage, I try to be Animal from the Muppets, just as chaotic and nonsensical as possible.”

Dumpster formed as a duo in 2018, consisting of Parcells, a Studio Composition Major, and Goss, a Classical Percussion Major. The band played a handful of shows as a duo. Mansfield, a Playwriting/Screenwriting and History Major, attended the first gig, on November 1, and talked to Goss and Parcells after the show. In

February 2019, Dumpster debuted as a trio, with Mansfield on bass. Now, its current lineup is set.

A month after their first gig, the band put out their first song “Suny Purchase Love Song.” The band’s not-so-serious approach to music making shines bright in this track. The guitar and bass is overpowering. The drums are urgent. And the lyrics consist mainly of Purchase-related inside jokes and bizarre mispronunciations of “Suny Purchase.” Mispronunciations include “Spork me pork dyke” and “soapy porpoise,” among others.

“We were having lots of fun in Grace’s percussion suite and were writing fake love songs that we thought would be funny,” Parcells says, regarding the writing of the song. “It kind of just came into fruition and we wrote a lot of the lyrics together. The song was done within an hour.”

Since its release, the song has become popular among fans. At their show in February with Ultra Deluxe and On Pink, “Suny Purchase

Left: Goss behind the kit.

Below: Mansfield getting up-close-andpersonal with fans.

'It’s like three frontpeople all in one band. To an exte nt, we’re all Anim al from the Muppets .'

-Call y Mansfiel d, bass/voc als Love Song” was the closing song and garnered an incredible crowd response. People were screaming along to the chorus and dancing like crazy. At one point, Mansfield, still playing bass, leapt into the crowd and jumped around with the audience. Goss followed suit.

The band’s audience is also important to the band’s identity. At a Dumpster show, according to the band, the mosh pits usually consist of queer people and women. In a way, this unique audience composition is a unique take on “Girls To The Front.”

According to ABC.net, “Girls To The Front” is a phrase popularized by Kathleen Hanna of Washington-based punk band Bikini Kill.

The phrase is synonymous with the Riot grrrl feminist punk movement that addressed women’s issues, such as rape, domestic abuse and sexuality. At punk shows, the phrase was used to encourage women to literally move to the front of the stage. It also has implications against violence toward women at shows at the expense of men.

“I look at playing live shows as creating energy,” Parcells says. “People are going for a good time.

When I see people jumping around and smiling, that’s the vibe. It’s like one big party.”

Live, it’s easy to hear and see the band’s influences in both the music and the stage presence.

Bands such as Bikini Kill, Minor Threat and Sonic Youth, among others, influence the band sonically.

Sometimes, the band’s mislabeled as an “all-girl punk band.” This isn’t the case. Parcells and Goss use “they/them” pronouns, while Mansfield uses “she/her” pronouns. To combat this misconception, they classify themselves as queer hard rock.

“People will look at us and be like, ‘Oh, it’s an all-girl punk band,’ and we don’t want that,” Goss explains. “We say ‘queer’ to avoid the label ‘all-girl.’ ”

Parcells plays in another band, Tula Vera, and has a solo project they’re working on. Mansfield and Goss play in Dogs on Shady Lane, a folk project led by Tori Hall. Goss also plays for their major’s requirements, drums for a handful of solo artists, and works with a youth orchestra in Norwalk, Connecticut. Mansfield also plays with a variety of solo artists and has been making music in a solo project called Pussy Wagon.

The future’s bright for Dumpster. Their upcoming EP “Fiasco” is in the works, as is music that won’t be on the EP. Although COVID-19 is currently preventing most live music from happening, it’s likely that Dumpster will continue playing shows once the pandemic has ended.

“After playing Dumpster shows, especially here, I feel very special,” Parcells says. “I feel like we have a very special community of people.”

When they’re not playing as Dumpster, the band stays involved with the campus music scene.

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    

A Look Behind the Glass Producing program thrives at Purchase, though some obstacles remain.

BY JOHANNA SOMMER

W

samples to create a track.

Since the rise of hip-hop, specifically rap, almost a half-century ago, producers have emerged in prominence. Some have become more recognizable from their tags at the start of a song, generally a shoutout of their name before the rapper jumps in. Popular examples of these producers include Metro Boomin, Tay Keith, Murda Beatz and Madlib. There has also been a surge of musicians that also work as producers, like Jack Antonoff from The Bleachers, who has become a primary pop producer, Dr. Dre, who has been rapping and producing since late last century, or huge acts like Kanye West, who started off making beats for Jay-Z.

“I messed around with whatever I could do, from recording my guitar, to producing hip-hop and electronic music tracks, to tracking and mixing an economics podcast for a former history teacher,” Burrough said. “Once I discovered music programs tailored to all these interests at Purchase and a couple of other colleges, I realized it’s what I wanted to pursue.”

ith the rise of DIY-production and advancing computer programs, music production has become more accessible than ever before. It allows those behind the scenes for a total sense of control over the music while working directly with a variety of artists.

Where at one time kids interested in production may have needed to get in a studio environment before learning the fundamentals of engineering, they now can begin whenever they have access to a computer, making the profession much more attainable.

“Bedroom producer became a title, and you can get the same results in your dorm room with the right gear as you would in a $60 per hour studio,” said Maxwell Burrough, a senior studio production major, who produced under the name Maxwell Hawk. “While there will always be analog gear that sounds incredible, the rise of the laptop production wave, and the access to cheaper virtual versions of high-end gear and synths, has changed how music is made.”

Specifically within rap music, which Burroughs and a large amount of Purchase students focus on, producers are able to completely create a song remotely and without instruments, often relying on beats and

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Burrough started getting into production after his guitar teacher noticed his interest in synths, production, and recording. Burrough started to invest in equipment like monitors and keyboards a couple of years before college, while practicing with the opportunities that were available.

Not all students have a choice on whether to be in behind the mic or behind the glass. When sophomore studio production major Liam Magrini was told he should be a rapper his response was, “Well I hate my voice for one,” in addition to being intimidated by the competition.

“I couldn’t really find something that made me happy at the time,” he says before coming across production. “But I remember watching this one video where somebody asked, ‘What do you have to say to people who say you are just hitting buttons on a keyboard?’ and [the producer] just said, ‘Do it yourself if it’s that easy and then make millions.’”

Four years later and Magrini is an in-house producer for Atlantic Records, working under the name Zetra, which he coined at the age of 13. “I work with my friend Yoshi, and after we started working last year, everybody started to notice… After that it was really when my life started moving like that,” he said while snapping his fingers, “and

  

‘I like working with other people because it's always fun to bounce different ideas off people. … When I'm working with other producers it's stress-free.’

—Liam Magrini, aka Zetra

a lot of attention came towards me, which I’m really grateful for.”

Magrini and his main collaborator Yoshi, also known as Yoshi24k, put out the song “WTF” last March, prompting the beginning of their success. The song has more than 127,000 plays on Spotify and was the reason the two had the opportunity to perform at the rap-festival Rolling Loud this past fall semester. At the beginning of the song a distorted voice can be heard reciting the tag “Zetra,” publicly marking Magrini as part of the song.

“WTF” is a product of SoundCloud rap, which took the music industry by storm in 2016-17, allowing unsigned, independent artists to reach large audiences across the world. Artists like JuiceWRLD, Lil Baby, and Lil Peep, had large influences on Magrini, as well as his young producer peers. They took notes on what becomes popular amongst the public, as well as how the industry is changing.

Despite being well-known by many of his peers, Magrini stresses that producing is not achieved alone. Apart from a lot of the solitary work that goes hand in hand with production and creating beats, there are a lot of opportunities at Purchase to collaborate and engage with like-minded individuals, in turn creating a sense of community in a largely individualist field.

program and working in the field post-graduation. He credits his ability to work as a producer to his peers and the production program community at Purchase, which taught him what it’s like to collaborate in a professional setting.

“I like working with other people because it's always fun to bounce different ideas off people or see what someone else would do in a situation,” he said. “When I'm working with other producers it's stress-free, but when there's an artist in the studio it's usually just me and them. I have to work on controlling that situation and making sure everyone is comfortable because the vibe is everything.”

Marvin is working as a producer for Off Records and Republic Records, working with predominantly rap artists, most notably Lil Tecca and SmokePurpp, as well as smaller acts like Marcel Allen and Bang Omighty. Marvin is also branching out from purely rap artists.

His song for indie-rock group Dancehall comes out this spring, which he thinks is one of the best songs he has ever made.

Having a community of students all in the same position can also help relieve some of the anxieties that go hand-in-hand with planning for a career in the arts, according to senior studio production major MJ N’Drin.

“I find that when I work with others I learn a lot,” Magrini said.

“That is the main reason I came to this school… Being able to be in an environment where everybody is trying to do the same shit, where everyone grew up differently and everyone learned differently, and then getting to interact with those people and exchange so much knowledge. I wouldn’t be where I’m at today if I hadn't worked with some people and learned from them.”

“There are just some days where you feel like, ‘How did I decide to do this, why am I here, why didn’t I become a doctor or a dentist or something where I know where I’m gonna go after college?’ ” she says. “But there are also days where you just get really good feedback from your class, or you can tell your professor is really proud of the work you’ve done, and it just feels like, ‘OK, I'm growing, I’m changing, and not staying the same.’ ”

Matt Marvin is a Class of 2019 alum from the studio production

Despite an increased ability to produce remotely or even in one’s

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  

‘There are just some days where you feel like, why didn’t I become a doctor or a dentist or something?

But there are also days where it just feels like, OK, I'm growing, I’m changing, and not staying the same.’

—MJ N’Drin

bedroom, the music producing industry is still male-dominated.

According to a Forbes article that came out in 2019, a study led by USC Annenberg Inclusion Initiative concluded that only 2.1% of producers on the Billboard Hot 100 were women, across a period of six years. They roughly estimated that the ratio of male to female producers in the industry is 47:1. This disparity is found within Purchase’s studio production program as well, as there is only one other female student in the graduating senior class besides N’Drin.

For the most part N’Drin is fully content with the studio production program: She values the constructive and encouraging opinions from her peers and teachers; she gets networking opportunities through the program’s Facebook page and her professors; and she even got a job at The Stood as an engineer, which has taught her what it's like to control the experience of a large group of people, especially in a live setting. The program only has one catch.

“It would be nice to see someone that looked like me in the front of the classroom,” said N'Drin when pinpointing the main flaw she sees in the program. “Every single one of my professors is a white man. …

They are all good people and are trying their best, I love them all. It’s just I know there are women who are doing my job and I would love to hear from them and have their guidance to help me along the way.”

Besides N'Drin, the other female student in the music production senior class, Izzy Da Fonesca. The two have become good friends because of their similar circumstances, finding an ally within a predominantly male-dominated field.

“I think that it is both empowering and intimidating, but our teachers are good at acknowledging that dynamic and are very helpful in terms of letting us know about job opportunities,” Da Fonesca says.

“I do think my experience here would be vastly different without MJ,

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without the ability to relate to another person in the same situation as me, and I’m thankful for that and just hopeful that more femmeidentifying people become more and more present in the field.”

Though the Music Conservatory and studio production program has left N'Drin feeling self-assured for the most part, her confidence about entering the arts and the value of her work has yet to fully develop. “It’s just so tied to your self worth,” she says, “that when things are good they are so good, and when things are bad it’s just like I could not be further from being happy.”

Fellow senior Burroughs finds the same concerns within his own work and future. He has agency over how his music will sound, but not how it may be received. At least now, in the DIY-era of music production, even if one doesn’t reach commercial success, they will always be able to produce from their laptop.

“It’s difficult to always feel control in the art world, where the popularity and likability of your work can reflect your ability to succeed in your career,” he said. “But every day I feel a little more in control of how I want to put out my music to the world, and how I think it’ll be received.”

Yoshi T (left), friend and producer Elijah Juda (right).

Photo by Caleb Stone

SAVE A SPACE FOR

Yoshi T

BY GABRIEL APONTE

T

ucked away in the Forum Art Space of the Stood, escaping the beeps of the game consoles and clacking of pool balls, Yoshimasa Takahashi sits with his elbows on his knees admiring the different mediums within the current show displayed on the walls.

Born in Los Angeles and moving to Manhattan at the age of 8, Yoshi, (a.k.a Yoshi T) is a Japanese-American rapper and a sophomore here at Purchase College. Originally coming to the institution accepted into the Music Conservatory for classical clarinet, he felt a disconnect between him and the instrument growing soon into his freshman year.

‘I was like, mad, sad and tight, ’cause my friends would be doing their own thing.’

—Yoshi T

“I was like, mad, sad and tight, ’cause my friends would be doing their own thing,” says Yoshi, who spent a lot of his time with friends who are also in the conservatory, but for Studio Production. From here he developed a new passion, still within the realm of music.

“I always had something to do with it,” he says of music. “I was in dance when I was like 5, and I took piano… a bunch of stuff, like the chorus as well. It’s been a constant in my life.”

While feeling unproductive within classical music and developing his newfound interest in producing and mixing, Yoshi mustered up the confidence and began to explore his new interest. Getting accepted into conservatories within the college is no easy task. Here at Purchase transferring into another conservatory program after, already being a student within one, is usually a choice that sets you back to Freshman status.

In Yoshi’s case, he was already in the conservatory and his concentration was the only change. He explained how the transition for him was actually really light. With the support

of his clarinet professor, Ayako Neidich, Yoshi was able to transfer his credits and begin his academics as a Studio Production major.

“She helped me a lot and she’s Japanese too so we were already chill,” he said, still observing the art covered walls.

Taking a new path in his academic career, Yoshi’s future started to become more clear- but that doesn’t mean he’ll forget his past. His longtime best friend, Elijah Juda, is also a Studio Production major. Together, they recently cooked up a mixtape titled ‘Kumo Mono’. The two produced and mixed all of the beats and Yoshi, himself, raps and sings throughout.

“The whole album is all about clouds. I really was into clouds last year. It’s mostly sonically and how watching clouds makes me feel.”

Alongside producing, rapping, and singing for ‘Kumo Mono’, Yoshi also painted the cover.

“I wanna paint every cover of mine from now on,” he says “I like to be involved in every aspect.”

As for what’s next for Yoshi T, “More music. I feel like I have so much to say and this is the easiest way.” His latest release ‘Body Shot’, produced by Alegba Celis-Etienne a fellow Purchase student, with mixing and mastering by Elijah, is accompanied by a music video, shot by Owen Lips, another student at Purchase.

With the bops continuing to roll out of the vault, there’s no doubt the music industry should save a space for a man of many talents such as Yoshi T. His humility and vision of what he wants is sure to set him on the right path. “I’m ready to pop,” he said. “It’s only up for my friends and me.”

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Wallace Alpern (center) of Wallace and the Apes, plays an apartment gig.

Photo by Jordan Meiland.

NO S PAC E LIK E HOM E

With venues limited, bands learn to improvise in apartments, and elsewhere

BY JORDAN MEILAND 19

A

large gathering of people in an apartment is a sure sign of a party. But on some occasions, it’s not what it seems. It’s something loud. Something prohibited. Something unexpected. A concert.

At a show in Alumni Village in March, the room is alive. Some audience members mingle with strangers, striking up conversations about music and life. Others sip their alcohol and stare at their phones. A few remove sweaters and jackets and throw them into a bedroom that has become the unofficial coat and equipment closet.

The smell of body odor and perfume emanates from the tightly-packed crowd as people fan themselves, trying to escape the body heat of the person next to them.

Then, the music starts.

With a glorious blast of sound, conversations stop cold and heads turn sharply. People outside start trickling back in as the band takes control of the room.

It doesn’t take long for the audience to get moving. What starts with head banging and swaying side-to-side quickly evolves into frenzied jumping and pushing. As the band plays, the energy in the room grows and grows.

Audience members bump into each other, shout in excitement and dance freely amid a shower of sound and fluorescent lights.

As the audience jumps, the floor starts to bounce with them. Even amid the blaring guitar and thundering drums, you can still make out the faint creaking noise of the floor.

Between songs, the audience catches its breath and the band introduces themselves. They thank the host for putting the event together and thank the audience for coming out and listening.

Before the next song, however, the band reminds

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the audience not to jump. “There are people downstairs and we can’t be making too much noise,” the front man explains.

The rest of the show, the audience refrains from jumping. However, the dancing continues, as does the good time. At the end of the show, the host makes her way to the front, grabs a microphone and makes the following announcement: “Thanks for coming. Now get the fuck out,” she says casually.

The audience obliges. People turn and start shuffling toward the exit. People push past each

the finest examples of the DIY-ethos of the Purchase music scene.

Sam Aronoff of Vicious Summer offers the mike to the crowd at an apartment show on Feb. 7 in the Neu. Vicious Summer, a Purchase-based rock band, is one of many groups playing these spaces.

The band, consisting of Sam Aronoff (vocals and guitar), Alex Isaacson (guitar) and Jack Zuckerberg (drums) formed in 2019. Since forming, they’ve become very familiar with the unconventional spaces on campus and have played apartments multiple times.

‘Those [apartment] shows I like a lot more than being on a stage and being separated from the audience, because I feed off their energy. You see and hear everything, and that’s what I love.’

—Sam Aronoff, Vicious Summer other, coming from and going to the coat room.

A few stoop down to pick up empty cans of White Claw and throw them into big black trash bags. The musicians hurry along with the crowd, lugging their gear.

A lot goes into arranging an apartment show.

Furniture gets moved from the living room to make space. The kitchen becomes the storage area for bands to put their gear. To say it’s a tight squeeze is an understatement.

Another successful, albeit illicit, apartment show at SUNY-Purchase. The band and the host requested that they remain anonymous to avoid running afoul of a resident assistant.

“Someway, somehow, it’s just enough space to get a full drum kit in there,” Isaacson says, “and then two amps in front and hopefully, a bass amp.”

If you know where to look, you’ll learn that shows in unconventional spaces are always happening. They often fall into two categories: apartment shows and rehearsal space shows, with an occasional show somewhere especially unconventional. (Toxic Crew, a local hardcore band, played a show in the Free Store in fall of 2018.) Whatever the case, these shows are

When putting these shows together, the band agrees that noise is, perhaps, the biggest concern.

“I was just worried about an RA shutting it down,” Zuckerberg says, regarding the band’s first time playing an apartment. Aronoff adds, “There was no telling what was going to happen.

Somebody could’ve came in right before our set and told us we couldn’t play.”

No doubt, one notch of volume can be the difference between a successful apartment show and an unwanted visit from the RA. Regardless, the show goes on. The room fills up, the lights get low and the bands play their hearts out.

“They’re so intimate because you’re all cramped in this smelly hot apartment, but people still throw the fuck down and really go at it,” Aronoff says. “Those shows I like a lot more than being on a stage and being separated from the audience, because I feed off their energy. You see and hear everything, and that’s what I love.”

Similarly, basement rehearsal rooms in the Music Building are popular choices for venues.

In February, Collision Theory, a fusion-jazz band from New York and New Jersey, decided to have their record release show in Room 0081 of the Music Building. With walls draped in curtains, the space is a large rehearsal area that conservatory students use to rehearse. For the record release, the “stage” was outlined on the floor in multicolor string lights and two chalkboards draped in white string lights were placed behind the performers to light the room. Sound carried easily, thanks to the acoustics.

For a show as important as a record release, one might think a band would look for something more. But, as Ethan Johnson, guitarist of Collision Theory, explains, having the show in the Music Building had a number of perks.

“We could just design the show completely ourselves,” he explains. “Design the timeframe of it, design the set, we weren’t under any guidelines.”

Johnson also mentions that playing an established venue, like The Stood, would have limited how long the band could go. “We wanted to perform the whole album and then some other tunes as well, so we decided to just do our own show,” he says.

To many, The Stood is the first place if you’re looking to perform, and for good reason. Both Main Stage and Whitsons are well-equipped venues that have all the essentials for having a good show.

Stage lighting, backline equipment and a hands-on staff to monitor sound and set up gear is just some of what The Stood has to offer.

Above all, The Stood is an established space on campus that doesn’t need to worry much about noise complaints. Concerts happening aren’t likely to get shut down for noise the same way an apartment or a rehearsal space show is.

And yet, despite the prominence of The Stood in campus life, it often finds itself competing with shows in unconventional venues to bring in an audience.

turnout can be hard.

Now, the Purchase music community faces a bigger problem: COVID-19. The highly-contagious respiratory illness spread with unprecedented speed around the globe, throwing people into panic and countries into lockdown.

In response, Purchase College has taken drastic measures, including transitioning to distance learning, converting dining locations into take-out only locations and, most damaging, cancelling events where large amounts of people are expected.

This restriction on large capacity events has dealt a heavy blow to the Purchase music community. Concerts have vanished.

Unfortunately for the virus, the Purchase music community doesn’t back down. A group of students gathered on the Great Lawn, Friday March 13, to serenade the campus with uplifting jazz music. Although it wasn’t planned as an act of defiance against COVID-19, it was a nice reminder that, no matter what, live music will find a way.

It’s not uncommon for a concert to be happening in The Stood the same night a group of students have a concert in their apartment. Collision Theory’s record release show in the basement of the Music Building happened the same night Penthouse Boys played Whitsons. Dogs on Shady Lane played an apartment in the Neu the same night Donyae played Whitsons.

Although two concerts happening the same night can be seen as a plus for show-goers who now have options for what they want to see, it’s more complicated for the performers. The presence of the audience, according to many performers, has a significant impact on how they perform. In general, the bigger the audience, the more energy in the room, the better the show.

Performers agree that playing a show with poor

Previous page: Collision Theory, including guitarist Ethan Johnson (left) and trombonist Marty Scott (center), performs at its record release show in Room 0081 of the Music Building. Band members find the space more freeing than The Stood.

Photo by Jordan Meiland.

Left: Sam Aronoff of Vicious Summer offers the mike to the crowd at an apartment show on Feb. 7 in the Neu. Photo courtesy of Alex Isaacson.

Right: Vicious Summer performing on The Stood’s Main Stage. Photo by Jordan Meiland.

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ti m e t i h to

e s a p ||

Purchase Musicians Respond to Outbreak , Remain Eager to Play

BY JORDAN MEILAND

L

ife during the Coronavirus Outbreak is anything but ordinary.

Universities and schools have moved online, people are working from home, and your local supermarket has run out of Lysol spray and toilet paper.

The novel coronavirus, which causes COVID-19, is easily transmittable, meaning large gatherings of people are becoming increasingly discouraged or prohibited. Movement of humans, for travel or work or socializing, has also been disrupted--in many cases halted--to decrease the chances of the virus spreading. Put simply, it’s dangerous to be around other people right now.

Professional and aspiring musicians alike have faced numerous consequences due to the virus. National and international tours have been postponed or cancelled. Large music festivals around the world have been postponed for months. Now, many musicians find themselves stuck in an uncertain state, where they’re unable to perform.

The campus music community is no different from the countless communities of musicians around the world. All events, including concerts, have been cancelled for the remainder of the semester. Whitsons and the Dino Room are silent; there will be no Culture Shock.

To understand how the outbreak has affected the campus music community, The Beat’s Jordan Meiland reached out to individuals in bands and solo projects and asked them a series of outbreak-related questions. Here’s how they responded, via Instagram and Email: 22

As an artist, how are you affected by the novel coronavirus outbreak?

Alex Isaacson, Sophomore, Arts Management (Vicious Summer): “The outbreak has canceled a bunch of upcoming shows for my band Vicious Summer, and we’re all unsure of the next time we can play. I’m saddened by the sudden cancellations, but the safety and health of everyone comes first.”

Cody Zusman, Sophomore, Studio Production (Wallace and the Apes; The Whims): “All of our upcoming shows were cancelled, and it seems that there has been a drop in listener counts/streams over the past week.

Usually this is the time of year that we play really big shows, and the band needs income to keep our guitars set up, make new merch, etc.”

Ash McMillan, Sophomore, Studio Composition and Studio Production:

“My junior recital is pushed back to next semester, and our single release in Brooklyn was also cancelled.”

Neil Stiskin, Sophomore, Studio Production (Little Cliff; Swim Rest): “One of my favorite things about music is the community that it creates, so being separated from peers and friends is tough for music-makin’, but I've got more time to write now!”

Danny Eberle, Sophomore, Anthropology and Media Studies (On Pink; Lip Critic): “A huge part of being a musician is being able to link with other musicians and to perform for crowds. With the outbreak happening, all the shows I was going to play within the next few weeks have been cancelled and I am unable to link with my bandmates to practice due to, y’know, social distancing.”

What was the last show you played before the outbreak?

Alex: “The Night of Originals show [on Feb. 28] set up by the Arts Management Club. I did not realize that would be that last of the semester.”

Cody: “The last show [Wallace and the Apes] played was March 7 at The Stood.”

Ash: “The last show we played was actually at The Stood that you took pictures at [Night of Originals].”

Neil: “Last show I played was in Alumni on March 6 with Wallace and the Apes, Dogs on Shady Lane, and Doren.”

Danny: “The last show I played before the outbreak was last weekend at a house venue in New Paltz. I played a set with a side project, Really Dead Corpses. I was also supposed to play a set with my main band, On Pink, but it got shut down by cops after two songs due to noise complaints.”

What do you miss about performing?

Alex: “I definitely miss the energy of a live crowd. I was really starting to get completely comfortable playing live. I’m eager to get back to playing shows, but I’m happy to be home right now and spend time with family.”

Cody: “I love to see people having fun and enjoying music that we made, and I also love to perform in front of large audiences, so I guess I miss all those feelings.

Ash: “This year, I really feel like I grew into myself as a performer and being comfortable with making jokes on stage and dancing and being silly.

My band loves performing. The horn players always discuss their dance moves before we go on; I just miss that energy and connection between myself with my band and audience. The songs we perform I wrote, and they all mean a lot to me. Even if they do sound fun and carefree, many are written with a lot of weight and meaning, so it’s freeing and cathartic, in a way, to perform them.”

Neil: “I miss having an excuse to spend full days playing and practicing for shows haha.”

Danny: “I miss the feeling I get playing in front of people, and the energy you can get from that. I love seeing the reactions on people’s faces in the crowd whether they are positive or negative. I also just miss playing music with my best friends and the energy chemistry we have with each other.”

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What are your plans until the outbreak subsides and you can perform again?

Cody: “We are currently filming four music videos to go along with a fourtrack EP that was recorded over winter break. It was supposed to be out April 3, but that deadline was extended to May 1, and will probably get extended again.”

Alex: “While the world waits for the outbreak to subside, I plan to do a lot of recording. For the past couple of days I’ve been recording new guitar tracks for upcoming songs! Along with work on online classes, I’m planning on continuing to record for my band.”

Ash: “Until we can perform, I’m working on trying to promote our single that comes out April 17, and personally I’m working on my guitar skills and trying to catch up with my ear-training class haha.”

Neil: “I guess I wanna use this time inside to write and record. Not sure about the future; pretty freaky.”

Danny: “I’m planning on staying home, practicing the drums as often as I can, working on getting better at production and engineering, and getting better at cooking. Also watching a ton of ‘Sopranos’ and ‘Simpsons’ and listening to some much music.”

What can we do to support artists during this time?

Alex: “The best way to support them is by buying merch, keep engaging with them on social media, or donating to them in any way you can. A lot of artists have to play live shows to support themselves financially. With mass cancellations, it will become extremely difficult for artists to support themselves.”

Cody: “Stream our music, buy our merch.”

Ash: “During this time, best support is to buy merch, buy records, steam music, share your fav small artists, etc.”

Neil: “Buy art. Albums, merch, whatever it is.”

Danny: “It’s really important to support artists by buying merch, buying their music, streaming their music, and just promoting the shit out of their music and social media.”

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Anything else you’d like to add or say?

Cody:” I have dedicated my life to this band for the past two years, and this is the first time we have felt limited like this; it is a really frustrating feeling. My heart goes out to all artists feeling this way.”

Neil: “Stay inside.”

Danny: “I just wanna say stay safe, healthy, try not to go outside or socialize too much no matter how much you want to. And pick up something fun to do while you’re quarantining. Much love.”

Alex: “These are difficult times for all of us. We all must do our part in supporting each other and do our part in controlling the spread of the outbreak. Additionally, everyone cannot give into fear and panic.

I sometimes hear about racism towards Chinese people and feel immense sadness. People give into their fear and paranoia; it doesn’t help anyone. I’m half Chinese myself. My heart goes out to those who are mistreated due to people thinking that a certain kind of person spread the virus. We can only beat this outbreak by educating ourselves about the virus and learning methods to prevent the spread.”

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b a c k b e a t

REWIND:

Historic Concerts at SUNY Purchase

“PURCHASE AWAKENS … VERY NICE,” read the headline of the student newspaper, The Load, after SUNY Purchase hosted its first ever music festival not six months into the first full school year (1972-1973). As told

by The Load, “Things started blasting on Friday night with a square dance and didn’t stop until after Earl Robinson closed the festival with a folk concert.” Robinson, it might be worth noting, was blacklisted in the 1950s because of his membership in the Communist Party. One of the organizers of the Winter Arts Festival was a freshman, Fred Wilson, who is now perhaps the most famous artist to have graduated from SUNY-Purchase.

Almost two years later, in December 1974, Purchase students were treated to the college’s first jazz festival, which featured the legendary pianist Bill Evans, among others. Also performing was the vocalist Betty Carter, an “underground sensation” (according to The Load) who was held in high regard by jazz giants such as Miles Davis, Ray Charles, Dizzy Gillespie, and Sonny Rollins, and was known for her unrivaled ability to scat. However, the event was poorly attended. A write up in the student newspaper (“Jazz Sizzled: Audience Fizzled”) lamented, “It seems a pity that most of the really great musical events on this campus go virtually unnoticed.”

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BY MOSS ROBESON

Earlier that year, the renowned folk musician and peace activist Pete Seeger, a resident of the Hudson Valley, performed for Purchase students during orientation. He would be back in May 1975, when he also sat for an interview with The Load. Asked who he admired most, he said, “the young people who are pushing ahead,” and Ho Chi Minh (1890-1969), the leader of North Vietnam, against whom the United States fought throughout the 1960s. He also commented, “The most difficult thing to do in the world is to write a very simple song. This was Woody Guthrie’s genius.”

By 1975, an annual spring festival began at Purchase, called April Showers, essentially the Culture Shock of the ’70s and ’80s. That year, things got started with a craft bazaar on the mall—then a much more expansive space, without the Student Services Building—followed by performances from the Purchase String Quartet, Purchase Brass Band, “SUNY Circus,” and a number of “various folk and bluegrass performers.” That evening, the highlight of the festival, Richie Havens performed in the gym. His fame peaked six years prior as the opening act at Woodstock, but reportedly he let down the campus with a “shoddy performance”: “His set was painfully short on material, and even more painfully long on time.” (He talked a lot between songs.) Also during the festival, the college’s Environmental

‘...Because we’re G.G. Allin, we gotta play for $60 and sleep in a fucking truck. Fuck you, fucking college preppy motherfuckers!’

—G.G. Allin Purchase performer, 1989

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Pete Seeger, the d-hall basement, 1989. Photo from the Purchase Archives by Deborah Taylor

Studies department presented a talk in the old Durst Humanities Building, “The Case for Pesticides.”

Fast forward to 1986, soon after the opening of the Olde (then known as the “new apartments”), a student organized a historically notable concert, but under-appreciated at the time, to raise money for AIDS research.

Five small bands performed at the event, which raised $300 (today worth about $700): Asleep Standing; The Funk; Lather, Rinse and Repeat; and The Pranksters, in addition to a jam session by Purchase students. The organizer, Emily Hofstetter, said she was disappointed by the turnout of just about 100 people. “I felt like I was having a big party for all my friends,” she said. “Unfortunately people still aren’t getting the message.”

In 1989, the D-Hall basement hosted one of Purchase’s most infamous concerts, by the “Rock ’n’ roll terrorist” G.G. Allin and the Disappointments. “We’ve got no fucking money!” he cursed out the students who turned out to see him. “If we were Sonic Youth we could get $3,000, but because we’re G.G. Allin we gotta play for $60 and sleep in a fucking truck. Fuck you, fucking college preppy motherfuckers!” At which 28

point he threw the bottle of whatever he was drinking at the audience, and they scurried away behind a wall into a nearby stairwell for the rest of the performance.

One alleged witness said in the comments of the YouTube video, “My friends and I were expecting some shit ‘performance art’ crap, but we were pleasantly surprised.” At the end of the set, the guitarist auctioned off “art” made with G.G. Allin’s semen, feces, sperm, pubic hair, blood, and perhaps other bodily fluids. “Good show!” the former student concluded.

As one current student has pointed out, this probably explains why there is a photo of Allin in the room behind the gluten-free station in D-Hall.

It was in 1993, just four years after Allin's disturbing performance (which alumni from the time still reminisce about on their Facebook group), that Culture Shock began. Until this year's cancellation, it ran for 27 consecutive springs. However, it is questionable if any performers have ever "shocked" Purchase students as much as The Disappointments.

Photo courtesy of Roman Dean

CULTURE SHOCK:

SHORT-CIRCUITED IN ’20, ELECTRIC IN ’21?

I started this school year off as just the general programming coordinator of The Stood.

Basically, along with my co-coordinator, Anyela Coronado Maza, I was in charge of booking Zombie Prom, Stood-o-Ween, and the weekly Whitson’s shows. It took a little while to get used to, but after the first semester ended I realized it was a pretty chill job.

It was winter break and I finally had some time to breathe. I went to Italy for two weeks right before Christmas. I was sitting in an Airbnb in Milan when I got a text message from Evan Liu, the student programming coordinator, saying Anyela and I had to fill in as main events coordinators and plan all of Culture Shock while still continuing our positions as GPC’s. The former MEC, Ana Rackz, stepped down to take a job at Cinematic Records, a recording studio. Anyela and I decided that she would focus on the rides and the food trucks, and I would concentrate on the lineup.

Culture Shock was scheduled for the weekend of April 24, and I got this text around Dec. 20.

Keep in mind, Culture Shock lineups are usually set and ready to go around December, so I had to start getting to work that night. Despite the six-hour time difference between Milan and New York, I started contacting different managers and artists immediately. I hit up everybody I could, and I really mean everybody! I saw the most popular suggestions in Purchase’s Facebook group, and I hit them up, even if I wasn’t familiar with the artists themselves. I remember contacting 100 Gecs, Kero Kero Bonito, Snoh Aalegra, and many more artists. Everyone was either booked already or way out of our budget. I did this throughout the remainder of our winter break, without pay.

Around the second week of January, I only had one artist on the lineup. At this point, I was in full panic mode. I needed more suggestions, so I made a Pantherlink survey and waited for people to fill it out. I got some really great suggestions and a lot of the artists on the lineup came from those answers. Ana, the former MEC, was also calling and texting me periodically, always making sure I was good, and always had really dope suggestions.

The only artist that wasn’t on any suggestions was Young MA. Meila Vazquez-Miller, The Stood Coordinator, and I loved Young MA, and I was dying to see her live, so I selfishly booked her as the headliner. I have no idea how I pulled it all together in time to announce the lineup by March 5, but somehow I did.

There were so many bumps, so many artists I thought were locked in that suddenly dropped out, many contract mishaps, and so much negotiating. I’m sure Anyela was just as stressed as I while figuring out the rides and the food trucks. Keep in mind, we were both doing two jobs (GPC and MEC) and only getting paid for one. While we were doing all of this Culture Shock planning, Anyela was still booking weekly shows and I was still booking Zombie Prom! So much stress and not enough pay.

The bitterness lasted until March 5. Once the lineup was finally announced and The Stood was filled with screams of excitement, that’s when I realized that it was all worth it. Seeing everybody so happy in turn made me so happy.

Hearing about how much people were looking forward to the Culture Shock weekend, how they were already planning their outfits, and how happy everybody was with the lineup filled my

BY AMY PANILLIA

heart. Those first few days after we announced the lineup were the best.

The next week came and we started to become more aware of the growing COVID-19 crisis-in-person classes began to end after Tuesday, March 10. With the problem growing every day, Purchase’s administration had a million more important things to deal with before they could make a decision about Culture Shock. At first, we thought the novel coronavirus was going to come and go by April, and we were confident that Culture Shock wouldn’t be affected. We tried to stay positive and keep our hopes up. I was even still reviewing contracts and finalizing riders right up until the day I found out Culture Shock had to be canceled. As soon as I found out, I couldn’t help but cry. It felt like all the work that we had done for months was just completely invalidated in a matter of days. Thinking about how disappointed everybody was, especially the seniors, broke my heart.

At the time I was angry, disappointed, and seriously did not understand why. Now looking back, there is an obvious reason why, and there are far more important things going on.

Ultimately, it was the best decision for our students, and safety and health are always the most important. Culture Shock 2020 just wasn’t meant to happen. I have applied to be the major events coordinator again next year, and all I can do at this point is hope I can get the job again and try my best to make Culture Shock 2021 the best one in history.

Amy Panillia is the general programming coordinator and co-major events coordinator at Purchase College.

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b a c k b e a t

CRITIC'S NOTEBOOK

Boys to Men to Something Less Defined In this occasionally toxic era, pop music redefines masculinity.

BY OLIVIA DUFF-ROGLIANO

T

he way society at large has come to view gender has been slowly shifting for years, and as young people become more socially active they come to expect their pop stars to be as well. Gender-defying indie musicians have been a staple of the genre and counter-cultural music has often aligned itself with images of fluidity, most famously David Bowie.

But in recent years, as marginalized groups have asserted themselves, the once rigid rules of pop have begun to change. Female artists such as Billie Eilish have pushed back against the objectification of young women pop stars and reclaimed their own sexuality. And, in a similar way, male stars have advocated against the social ideas that promote toxic masculinity, pushing for a less rigid outlook of men’s emotions, relationships, and even fashion.

Gone are the days of mainly seeing aggressively sexualized male artists selling images of muscles and songs about their sexual prowess to young fans. The youth of today no longer want or respond the way they once did to this type of marketing. Insead soft looks, painted nails, and songs about feelings fill Instagram feeds and airwaves.

None of this is entirely new: Music icons Bowie, Prince and Freddie Mercury stand out as trailblazers for the fluid male images of today. The rise in popularity of LGBTQ+ artists, such as Sam Smith, Frank Ocean and Troye Sivan, has further brought to light the decades-long impact the queer community has had on pop culture. With this in mind, the way straight, cisgendered male stars have altered their images seems to be

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a direct result of this influence as well as a change in the social understanding of gender norms.

Hits & Misses A testament to these changing audience tastes can be seen in the solo careers of former members of the boy band One Direction. The solo endeavors of members Harry Styles, Zayn Malik, and Niall Horan all debuted at No. 1 on the Billboard 200. Each has also amassed a following of 26, 31, and 23 million Instagram followers respectively. This success comes in large part because of the post-band images these artists have managed to craft. Malik’s as a tourtured, love song crooning R&B star, Horan’s as a down-to-earth folk-pop performer, and most notably Styles as a gender-role-defying rocker.

Styles stands out as an example of the type of new male pop stars of today, colorful ascots and floral Gucci suits are wardrobe staples. GQ writer Rachel Tashjian noted that where classic rock inspirations such as Mick Jagger “sought to provoke your buttoned-up parents with feminine vulnerability,” Styles’s gender ambiguity imparts openness and freedom of identity.” This identity comes through working with unconventional faces of high fashion such as the gender fluid Harris Reed and club kid designer Charles Jeffery Loverboy. And this unconventional image works. Though Styles’ fanbase is still largely young women, they seem to connect and find comfort in his willingness to dive into the world of feminne beauty.

A striking contrast to all this success is Liam Payne, who has struggled in comparison to his former One Direction bandmates. His debut album started at No. 111 on the Billboard 200 and his Instagram following is the comparatively low 18.6 million. Interestingly enough, Payne’s image has been crafted more in the hyper masuline: chiseled abs, HUGO underwear campaigns and partnering with the now-controversial high-fashion line Dolce and Gabbana. His songs stay mainly in the line of formulaic club music with titles like “Strip That Down,” “Bedroom Floor” “Stack It Up” and “Get Low.” In a scathing review of Payne’s debut album, “LP1,” Rawiya Kameir of Pitchfork noted that “he relies on inane songwriting concepts, rote misogyny, and feelingless flexing.” The cherry on top of Payne’s dabble into the world of toxic masculinity came with his song “Both Ways,” which was criticized by many, Kameir amoung them, for the way it fetishized bisexual women. Where former fans of the boy band flock to support the other members, Payne’s image acts as a repellent to the young women who would once line up in droves to see him.

Brothers in Arms, and Blouses

‘Soft looks, painted nails, and songs about feelings fill Instagram feeds and airwaves.’

An act that has learned from past mistakes and embraced rolling with the times has been another former boy band, the Jonas Brothers. With their 2019 comeback, the band crafted a brighter, more welcoming image than the one found in some of their earlier solo careers. Member Nick’s two-album solo career was filled with the formulaic masculine images of the past, his album covers, music videos, and even acting endeavors all centered on a muscular physique and sexual innuendos. As arguably the band’s strongest songwriter, Nick’s image expressed a desire to break free of a clean image and maybe even distance himself from his sensitive Broadway past by turning up the testosterone.

Meanwhile, brother Joe’s post-band project DNCE embraced a more transgressive image with pop-art inspired fashions and bizarre music videos.

Nick’s top song “Close” has reached over 300 million streams on Spotify while DNCE’s hit 900 million on the same platform. It makes sense, then, that upon their return as the Jonas Brothers, the band took some wisdom from DNCE’s playbook, dropping the old teen-hearthrob look for brightly colored suits, blouses and polos while songs and music videos hold more carefree, upbeat tones. Most notably, the band makes repeated use of the member’s wives in music videos, press, and their online image crafting personas that are bright, friends and non-threatening to great success with over 27 million monthly Spotify listeners.

Still, the sensitive, nonconformist image also comes with some pitfalls.

Harry Styles has been repeatedly accused of queer-baiting, due to the image he has crafted and his indirect answers to questions regarding his sexuality. Zayn Malik’s Vogue cover with model Gigi Hadid, which praised them for “embracing gender fluidity,” was criticized for making it akin to swapping clothes and failing to represent actual non-binary and genderfluid models.

With this in mind, the image of the pop star who rejects the social norm has become a key part of gaining the trust and devotion of fans in a world where activism plays a major part in many young people’s lives. This hasn’t just seeped into mainstream pop; hip-hop and other genres have had their style conventions questioned as well. Artist Bad Bunny is known for his perfectly painted acrylic nails and actor-rapper Jaden Smith made headlines when he first began incorporating skirts into his wardrobe.

Society’s ideas on gender are changing and the impact this has on fashion is not even close to over, as new ways to push the envelope quickly transform into popular trends.

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Memory Girl: Stuck Again (this time for a good reason)

BY LUCY TOZZI

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