Photo Via Wolfstock 2015 Facebook
By Carly Gassmann
Upon arrival at the sixth annual Seawolves Showcase, the most immediate stimulus is the lighting.
Shimmery white orbs follow ellipses, tracing across the scholarly brick of Melville Library and the Staller Center. Three glowing sets of eyes, halogen-blue, stare from the black curtains of the impromptu stage erected at the foot of the Staller Steps. A band sits on a platform to the right, beneath them draped 20 unique signs heralding school spirit.
Throngs of humanity sit or stand, terraced along the ascending lawn of the steps, conversing or swaying to the music. Wolfie can be glimpsed intermittently, sparkling through the crowd like a queen at her coronation, poised prominently like a totalitarian leader overseeing his people or generously posing for selfies.
An air of charged anticipation hangs over the crowd as the orchestra slows down its tune, drawing in the masses like a siren brings in hapless ships.
This being my first event attended at the Staller Steps, I admit I was captivated first and foremost by the gorgeous venue ― I’d never seen it “all lit up” like this. The shimmering walls rose up to greet the sky, dotted with stars that provided a perfect ceiling. Cliques of performers clustered together on the flanks of the stage, warming up dance moves or donning glow sticks.
The event finally kicked off with two frantic DJ’s waving their arms in a futile attempt to energize the hibernating crowd.
The sleepy eyes on the stage came to life, increasing their intensity and scanning the crowd with beams of light, sporadically forcing themselves directly into your field of vision. The sea of bodies was eventually coaxed into motion, and the individuals around me erupted in erratic claps, hoots and cheers.
The talent to follow ranged from the classically invigorating blares of the Stony Brook Band to the modern and lyrical verses of J-U-S, a student rapper.
Fraternity brothers engaged the audience with their lively dancing and microphone mishaps.
An Indian dance team captivated and thrilled with their bass-heavy sitar music, throbbing in chests as they clicked their accordion-like props and twirled in gauzy garments.
The High C’s performed acapella, enticing with their sweet notes and harmonies.
The African Student Union delivered an empowering and invigorating performance, dancing sensually and making women around me declare pride in their femininity.
Cheerleaders put up gravity-defying stunts, the dance team got Wolfie to shake his tail and a mass of drums rearranged the beat of our hearts.
Not a single element was missing from the night, as there was a broad variety of talent on display. Even the cynical grumblings of the self-absorbed “elites,” nit-picking the song choices and drowning in their own pessimism, could not dampen the excitement of the evening. With a veritable smorgasbord of entertainment right before your eyes, the only way you couldn’t have enjoyed yourself was if you tried.