Reflection Written By Alyssa McCord

It’s over. One suspect is dead, while one suspect is in custody after a nearly daylong locked-down and sheltered-in city and manhunt, along with a week that has seemed more like a nightmare that we just couldn’t wake up from. Anxiety is still sky high throughout the city as many questions remain unanswered and our hearts remain undeniably heavy – but we are not afraid, and we will never be afraid.

I’ve always heard that the moment you let fear consume your heart is when the terrorists win – and that’s what these men are. They are terrorists. Whether they’re affiliated with a foreign group that is targeting America, or they’re just a pair of angry brothers who have let evil and hate consume their lives, as only cowards do, the fact of the matter remains to be that they are terrorists. They wanted to kill us. They wanted to hurt us. They wanted terror to consume our lives, and while they succeeded with killing and hurting a large part of our beautiful Boston family, they have still failed because we, the people of Boston, refuse to let terror into our lives, into our city, and into our hearts.

Moments after finding out that the second suspect in the Boston Marathon bombing was alive and in custody, I joined hundreds of Boston residents on the corner of Hemenway St. and Symphony Rd. in celebrating the ferociously brave Boston Police Department, Mass. State Police Department, FBI, and countless other unshakable and tenacious organizations that have restored safety and peace to the place that I call home. With nonstop cheering, we celebrated that we have gotten what we have all been fighting for all week – justice. We have achieved justice against violence, we have achieved justice against terror, and we have achieved justice against these men who mistakenly thought that they were stronger than us.

Although reports say that they have been residents of the Boston metro area for several years, it is important for the world to know that this is not their home. They didn’t understand the things that only one can understand if you are lucky enough to have Boston in your soul. They didn’t understand that Boston is a city that doesn’t give up – no matter the terrifying and life-threatening odds that may face us. They didn’t understand that Boston is a city that loves fearlessly, whether that love is for our city or for our fellow Bostonians. More importantly, they certainly didn’t understand that Boston cannot be shaken. Boston was and never will be home for individuals like Tamerlan Tsarnaev and Dzhokhar A. Tsarnaev. We will now continue to go to sleep every night in our home, but we will rest easy knowing that people with terror in their hearts will never be a part of it – and as we begin to heal, we will continue to be fiercely reminded by the tragic losses of Martin Richard, Krysten Campbell, Lingzi Lu, and MIT police officer Sean Collier, that we are not guaranteed more time in our home and on this Earth than what we have at this very moment.

This is exactly what we will do to continue fighting against terror and people who think that they have a right to hurt our city. We can learn from the senseless and heartless violence that has plagued Boston this week and we can show these monsters that violence did not, and will not, win in our town. We will use these tragedies as a reminder to hug our loved ones a little tighter, and far more often. We’ll call our moms and dads and brothers and sisters as often as possible, so they may have the comfort of consistently knowing that we are safe, and that we love them. We will help those in need whenever moments may present themselves, just as those phenomenally selfless heroes did on Marathon Monday, and just as those tirelessly fighting for our safety have done everyday since and will continue to do in the days coming. We’ll show them that, as Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. said, “Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that”, because anyone who has ever been to Boston knows that we are a city that walks with light and with love, and no amount of sheer terror can take that away from us.

We have all lived through a horrifying, raw, and violent nightmare this week in Boston, with what seems like the entire world watching intensely, but now it’s our turn – we now get to show the world that we have decided that the nightmare is over. We will show them that nothing can stop us from walking through these city streets with our heads held high and our hearts filled with love. We’ll show them that we will run again – for those who can’t anymore, and for those who dream to do so in the future. We’ll show them that we are fearless, in only the way Bostonians can be. But most importantly – we’ll show them that we aren’t just strong… we are Boston-strong, and nothing will ever change that.

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Photo By: Brian Bello

An Editorial By: Jehad Choate

Some say you really start living when you develop a consciousness. Others say it is when you fall in love. I gauge my life by the concerts I go to. Since the summer before high school to now, I’ve made it a commitment to see and support the bands who’s recordings have brought me joy in my mediocrities, consolation in my failures, and focus to my confusion. Yet, the live show is under rated to the casual listener. To them, they see a crowded room of sweaty kids (all too eager to hurt each other), over-priced t-shirts, and a band they can barely see behind a wall of questionably tall minors, thirsty for their coveted alcohol.  To me, it is like a season finale or a pilot episode to a favorite TV show. The characters are all there, the development has already happened, we are just waiting for the twist to knock us on the ground and leave us wanting more. Last week, I had the esteemed pleasure of seeing my two favorite bands live, for what might very well be my last live shows in Boston. I followed A Perfect Circle since late 8^th grade, and they were the first show I ever went to, thanks to my sister and brother-in-law. As a naïve and innocent teen, I never smelled a concert toke before, or see groups of people get so worked up in the same way I did by their music. I never saw a mosh pit, or hear over 800 people sing the same song with me. It changed me. Since that day, I realized because of that band, I wanted that kind of attention, and I wanted to connect with people on a spiritual level without being some fundamentalist. My first A Perfect Circle show made me a musician.  Oddly enough over the years, as they returned to Orlando, Florida, they always seem to come around when something important was about to happen. I fell in love with probably the most significant woman in my life at an APC show. They came a couple days after my high school graduation. Even the first show I saw them at, prepared me for the visiting of hospitals for sick relatives that year. Then as I prepared for the beginnings of what one could construe as a questionable adulthood… they vanished. Going their separate ways, they established new bands, polished old bands and left me wondering if this uncertainty… this hiatus… could be some sort of reflection of my own life.

A few years would pass, and while I was trying to find my own musical niche another band would literally melt my face. I was reluctant on listening to the RX Bandits at first, because I honestly thought my friend was trying to either push another dime-a-dozen ska band (which we had in abundance back home) or

Photo By: Brian Bello

some Mars Volta wannabe project band. But then he made me a mix cd of songs from such classic albums as Progress and The Resignation and things changed for me. They are a band that transcends music with-out any boundaries: with the technical appeal of a progressive rock band, the social consciousness of a reggae or hip hop group, The groove and rhythm of a ska band, and the energy and power of a punk band. Luckily, as I got into them, they came to Orlando and once again I had that wave of change hit me, just like my first concert… and I knew how I wanted to go about my musical life through them. I would follow them through 6 more shows until the announcement of their farewell tour last month.

I have been working diligently during my last semester at Berklee. Every so often a wave of anxiety hits me over the questionable directions my seasoned adulthood would take me. I was surprised and delighted that in my last month in town, I would have the esteemed pleasure of seeing these two important bands in the same week.  A Perfect Circle came to the Bank of America Pavilion last Tuesday in their first tour in years. They played a healthy combination of every album including a new song. It was the first APC show I’ve been to without X’s on my hands, and felt pride to drink my legally overpriced beer and enjoy the music that comforted and inspired me through my early teens. I even felt obliged to call my ex girlfriend, the close friends that went with me to those shows, and my sister during key songs, just to share a moment that seemed lost in the shuffle of growing up and out of my home town. And just like when I was 13, strangers again surrounded me, in which I could laugh with and sing with. There was a guy with his 13-year-old daughter next to me, and it was her first show ever, and it was exciting to see what happened to me at her age, unfold from an outside perspective.

Two days later, my friend who introduced me to the RX bandits and who’s mix cd has been passed to god knows how many people between here and Florida came to Boston after taking a break from med school in Ohio. It only seemed fitting that the man who brought me this band, could see them off with me here. There was talk online that after this tour, the band would be breaking up. When I heard about this, I sincerely moped around the city feeling like I had just been dumped. I remember my roommate chillingly stated that this is the time when all the musical greats will either burn out or fade away. When RXB came to the Middle East downstairs in Cambridge for the first night, you could hardly believe it was a farewell tour. First, It was the first show where a band played every single song I wanted to hear in one night. Plus they brought the horn section back to truly give their audience the full experience of their older songs. The pits were intense, and the sold out venue was so crowded that condensation from the ceiling dripped on all of us like rain. The characters were all there, though… the concert tokers sneaking a hit within the sea of people, the X’d hands sneaking a sip of their forbidden beer, the movers, the shakers, and the older guys appreciating everything from the convenient aspect of the bar (me).  My friends and I came out of that concert feeling satiated. The Bandits know their fans, and they delivered everything that could have been demanded or silently wished for, and created an experience beyond any of the other shows I had seen of them. Then… they pushed it to the next level on their second night. Lead Singer Matt Embree didn’t just sing to another sold out room… he sang to each and everyone of us, while high fiving the kids in the front, while C-Gak carried the momentum of the night behind the drum set. Steve Choi killed on both Guitar, Keys and Drums and Joe Troy kept it all together on bass while making sure no one got crushed or hurt in the pits. Matt even brought up his mother and paid special attention to social issues. When the final night ended, my buddies and I still couldn’t believe that this might have been our last RX Bandits experience. We could have left just then, since I got my final concert in Boston and my friend snagged the set list… but we saw a group of kids hanging out in the back of the venue… when we turned to there, we saw Matt Embree hanging out with everyone. I’ve met him before in the first time I saw him in Boston, and he’s so different from his on stage persona. A quiet, gentle, humble man… he talked to everyone about everything. And hugged each person in the area. One guy emotionally declared he didn’t want the Bandits to break up… and that’s when Embree’s demeanor changed slightly.

“We aren’t breaking up. That’s a vicious online rumor. We love each other.”

We all learned that the Bandits are doing what APC did years ago: A hiatus to explore their lives more, and try new projects.

Photo By: Brian Bello

When APC did it, I wasn’t ready for it. In my youth and ignorance, I felt abandoned. This time around with the Bandits, I feel good because this nullified what my roommate and I were talking about. We don’t live in an era where the greatest musicians can only burn out or fade away. True musicians never really let go of their passions no matter how many things try to get in the way because there is a lot more than notes behind them. There is the camaraderie of the guys you share a tour bus and stage with. There are all the stories that turned into albums. There are also the people, like me, who could finally put their lives into words and melodies by their example. Whether a band breaks up, or goes on hiatus, they never really lose the kind of ownership they have over the hearts of their fans, and if I never get a chance to type anything out again from now on, I only hope that they know as a fan and a fellow musician, I am grateful for their presence when I needed them, and happy that even when they are not with me, their music will always be tethered to the milestones of my life and others.  Thank you, A Perfect Circle and The RX Bandits, for seeing me off in my journey to the next step.

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Photo taken from: The Pheonix

Article By: Jehad Choate

The past weekend was great. After a long semester filled with exams and projects, I had the esteemed pleasure of taking part in the 2011 Graduation ceremony and commencement concert. Berklee’s best and brightest mixed with musically accomplished all-stars, performing on stage in the Agganis Arena was just the tip of the iceberg that Friday. There was also the fondness of my closest friends and family traveling from my home town to celebrate the ultimate accomplishment of years of hard work and knowledge. I found the ceremony to be beautiful. An ocean of 908 brilliant minds filled the seats of Agganis Arena’s floor, with enough pink and black in the room to make a Lady Gaga album cover.

However, there was just one spec on the lens of an almost perfect shot that day. It happened when the honorary doctorates were being passed out to such inspirational musicians as Chucho and Bebo Valdes, Kenny Garrett, Mavis Staples, and Michael McDonald. When Dr. Valdes went to accept both the awards for himself and his father, he spoke in spanish. Which is not surprising, because as a pioneer of Cuban music, spanish might just be his native tongue. What was surprising was the fact that whoever was hired to record the subtitles didn’t have the abilities to follow along with Chucho as he made his heartfelt speech. Instead the class of 2011, only saw written on the screen ‘speaking spanish’. Now, that circumstance seems trivial, right? Perhaps Agganis or Berklee did not hire someone with a multilingual background to assist the aurally impaired. But the direct result of that small caption, erupted a small laughter in the arena, which made Dr. Valdes cut his speech.

That bothered me all weekend. Not because I didn’t know what he was saying, or majority of people in the room for that matter. It bothered me that Chucho, for that split second, when he was supposed to be feeling honored, felt awkward and hurried off stage. It also bothered me that, this all could have been avoided, if whomever coordinated this section of the ceremony hired a translator, knowing full well that we would be honoring a musician from Cuba as inspiring as Chucho. We pride ourselves in being a stone soup collective of cultures with a common passion for music, with a huge population of international students. Yet, I can’t help but feel a bit negligent towards my international brethren by witnessing such a blatant act of disrespect. Dr. Valdes, as part of the class of 2011, we respect you. We love the amazing influence you bestowed upon latin music for our generation and the generations to come. You deserve that doctorate you received and the speech you should have been allowed to complete. I only hope those responsible for this small inequity, made those points clear afterwards, because to be in the same room with you for two nights in a row was indeed no laughing matter.

Respect is a funny thing. I cannot by any means stand up and say I respect everyone and everything all the time, because in my mid-twenties, I am still shaking off the invincibility and dogma of my teenaged years. But I do know when to listen, and give credit where credit is due. As each of us walked across that stage to receive our degrees, and shake the hands of our honorary doctors and President Roger Brown, a sense of pride filled my heart. Sure, I probably knew about 20 of the 908 people that dressed just like me and were honored just like me, but I clapped as hard as I could for each of their names. Because this day was not like our normal days of being lost in the shuffle of the city and in some cases around campus. We all were recognized for our perseverance and our accomplishments. I respect my fellow classmates, just as much as I respect Dr. McDonald, Dr. Staples, Dr. Valdes, Dr. Valdes, and Dr. Garrett. I hope all of you continue to make great music as seasoned veterans or beloved newbies, but never forget to respect the people who listen to you, and always listen to the quiet words of experience.

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By Colin Ramsay
Contributing Writer

I recently read an article in the April issue of Modern Drummer by managing editor Mike Dawson entitled “Know No Limits,” and a particular line stuck out to me. In reminiscing about excuses he used as a teenager he remembers the thought that “I’ll never be able to play like Vinnie Colaiuta. I’m more a groove drummer.” While Dawson’s purpose was to illustrate the danger of self-imposed limitations, what resonated with me was this idea of chops and technical facility versus groove.

I find that many drummers draw a distinction between chops and groove; You’re either a chops player, or a groove player. The common perception seems to be that they’re two different approaches. Under the “chops” category one might put Weckl, and Vinnie among others. The so-called technicians of drums. On the other hand, groove drummers might include Steve Jordan and the likes. However, I believe such classifications are inherently flawed. The problem is the idea that technical ability and the ability to groove are two separate and distinct entities. I would argue that on the contrary, they’re extremely related and almost inseparable. Of course, this is all personal opinion as is everything in any artistic field, but allow me to wax philosophical for a moment.

Chops are a tool with which to construct a groove, and by groove I don’t mean a beat, but rather a groove. To use a piece of hip drummer lingo, something with a pocket. This is because chops are a quantitative skill while groove is a qualitative skill. The word “chops” brings to mind bpm and numbers, essentially how fast or accurately you’re able to play something, but groove revolves around an unquantifiable feeling. It’s why pocket is one of the most difficult things to teach a drummer. How do you teach someone to make a groove feel good? Some would say pocket is sitting on the back of the beat, but in reality it’s a stylistic choice and playing on top of the beat can feel just as good. This distinction between the nature of chops and groove is the exact reason why the former facilitates the latter. Much like a building that relies on a strong foundation, chops provide the technical foundation upon which to establish a sense of groove.

I think it’s important to mention here that I believe part of the problem is that the labels “chops drummer” and “groove drummer” are somewhat misnomers. We tend to write off technically flashy drummers as the chops guys, while calling more simplistic drummers groovers. Groove, however, is not synonymous with simplicity as chops are not synonymous with a technical playing style. You’d be hard pressed to find someone who is willing to argue that Weckl can’t groove, and while it may not be readily apparent in his playing style, I’d be amazed to find that Steve Jordan doesn’t posses a certain level of chops. The difference is stylistic appropriateness. Fusion calls for more involved, denser drumming so to speak, whereas Jordan’s seat behind John Mayer dictates a straight-ahead, open groove.

Regardless of what a certain style calls for, chops are a drummer’s backbone from which to artistically express themselves. Just as we must learn words before we can verbally express ourselves, we must possess the chops to express ourselves musically – to establish the groove we’re seeking. With that in mind, I encourage all drummers to pursue both chops and groove, and I think you’ll find yourself a more effective drummer, whatever your musical preference.

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By Owen Ross
Contributing Writer

Let me start out by saying that we have put together an awesome event for this Friday, October 30. Read the full story

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By Jehad Choate
Contributing Writer

Jehad is a second semester guitar principal.

How many of you made your life decision as an artist with no support? How many of you had to scrap every cent of milk money you had as a kid to buy your first guitar? How many of you had a girlfriend who was fed up with your late night gigs, or a mother who constantly thought you were on drugs (even on days when you weren’t) and ruining your life with art? I’ve been there before. The life of a true artist is walked shoeless on rough terrain. No matter how much you want to protect yourself from getting injured your constantly baring your self to critique, hoping for a knowing glance or a tapping toe for assurance. Read the full story

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By Rebecca Perkins
Contributing Writer

When you graduate from Berklee, how are you going to get health insurance? This is a question I have asked myself since I started school here 6 semesters ago. I had been out of college for nearly 2 years and had been living without medical insurance, paying for prescriptions out of pocket, and relying on extended refills to avoid doctor visits. I had been afraid to go snowboarding with my girlfriend’s family in Australia because I knew if I were injured it could ruin my financial future. In fact, I thought about it every time I got in my car or rode my bike to the store.

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