On Saturday, Feb. 22, the Bike Shop transformed into a worthy rival of Bob Boilen’s cubicle as Vassar Tiny Desk recorded three new episodes. The Strong House basement pipes supported a tangle of string lights, accessorized with rubber duck charms. On the walls: spray-painted bunny faces, Bike Shop’s operating schedule, cardboard cut-outs of piping plovers, posters for the Vassar Student Labor Dialogue, student artwork and a tool board. My observation spot, mindfully out-of-shot, was the dumping ground for mic stands, spare tires, locks, cowboy boots, camera bags, a Minion plush and empty Yerba Mate tins.
Revived in 2020, the live video concert series is produced by Student Music Union (StuMu), Vassar College Entertainment (ViCE), Vassar College TV (VCTV) and The Miscellany News.
“It’s been really great to be able to transcend space for this performance,” said Kwabena Adae ’26, co-Head of ViCE. In past years, Tiny Desk has recorded in the Alumni House, but with the renaissance of Bike Shop’s venue, Mechanical Issues, the team elected to relocate.
“Bike Shop feels more underground and intimate,” said Arily Velasco ’25, co-President of VCTV. Pranav Parekh ’25, a Bike Shop senior mechanic, agreed: “It’s beautiful to have people here. Bike Shop has always been a place we try to make comfortable for everyone.”
Set-up began at 8:30 a.m., with the first act arriving at 10a.m. UJIMA, an art collective for Vassar students of color, kicked off the morning with a series of original spoken-word poetry, singing and guitar instrumentals, with a delightful kalimba feature on one of the numbers. “UJIMA is collective care and responsibility. UJIMA is groove!” Marissa Desir ’25 said, introducing the group, which also included Alma Nájera ’25, Shyasia Arnold ’26, Mareme Fall ’25 and Zephan Aruede ’25.
Before rolling, Jaden Schapiro ’25, Tiny Desk engineer and StuMu Director of Campus Recording, instructed everyone to silence their phones and, crucially, unclip any keychains from belt loops. “That’s important to announce at a school like this,” he said. Nájera led a “ground down” breathing exercise. The clapperboard opened and closed. And they began.
Achieving silence in a cramped room of 20 students was no difficult feat for UJIMA. Their set was captivating. Nodding and swaying, audience members attentively clung to every word about self-identity, the divine feminine, mother nature and peace in Palestine, Sudan and Haiti. I was particularly moved by the following line: “We forgive those who do not practice a life of love.”
“I just love to play for people,” said Aruede. “And the crowd seemed to be interested.”
“I loved starting with UJIMA,” said Velasco. “It set a great tone for the rest of the day.”
Next up was Sam Hurwitz ’25. Having worked on Tiny Desk in the past as a member of StuMu, he was no stranger to the process, addressing the camera with confident ease. He performed three folksy originals, two of which are pulled from his upcoming album “Horizon.” As he strummed and sang with astonishing crescendo, he rocked back and forth as if he might, at any moment, burst off of his stool. Swapping out guitars for his finale, Hurwitz delivered a performance that made jaws drop, demonstrating ridiculous dexterity and precision as he slid from fret to fret. “Sam Hurwitz has been on my mind for a while,” said Schapiro. “He’s been a big part of the folky side of the music scene at Vassar and he’s also an incredibly talented guitar player. It was time that he got his own Tiny Desk.”
The rest of the afternoon was dedicated to Tiny Desk’s most ambitious endeavor yet: a hip-hop cypher. Showcasing two Gordon Commons employees, “Cans” (Duane Canada) and “D. Johns” (Ronell Johnson) alongside student rappers, “Sir J. Cryptic” (Jolyn Prescott ’27), “Adnan” (Adnan Ahmad Rizal ’28) and “Carmine” (Lance Diaz ’26), the one-take shot lasted 38 minutes, but felt like 10. A band composed of Tiny Desk student musicians performed a live backing track, including “The Jam” by A Tribe Called Quest, “Thank God” by Danny Brown and “24” by IDK, while the rappers improvised, stacking their verses on top of one another.
“We were thinking about doing it pre-recorded, but that’s not as fun and that’s not how they do it on NPR,” said Schapiro, who played bass for the backing track.
“The cypher is a collaborative project reconstructing an institutional memory that is no longer really serving the College,” said Adae. They explained that Hip Hop 101, a student organization that officially formed in 2004, once represented and strengthened hip-hop culture in the Hudson Valley, uniting MCs, DJs, breakdancers and graffiti artists. “That has not been a project that has continued past COVID-19, so we’re offering the cypher as a space to reopen dialogs of hip-hop on campus,” Adae said.
Energy in Bike Shop was high as the cypher began, despite the fact the crew had already been working for eight hours. While waiting for the stage light batteries to charge, the rappers and band freestyled over Radiohead’s “Creep.” I can think of many words to describe the set—refreshing, creative, witty, dynamic, engaging—but the best might simply be “fun.”
Release dates for the episodes have yet to be announced.