On his way to class, Justin Stein, a junior graduating with a degree in computer science in December 2009, gets a lot of looks. Heads immediately snap back as he makes his way to and from class. Some give bewildered glances, attempting to make sense of his passing while others nod and smile -- but either way, everyone seems to notice.
Related: Justin "that beatbox guy" Stein in action
Outwardly, it's hard to wonder why. Sitting outside of Squires on a clear Friday, he is somewhere around six feet tall and juggling a computer, bags and a jacket. He looks like another industrious college kid feeling the grind of a stagnating semester.
But on campus, wherever Stein seems to walk, the sound of bass and beats seems to follow him; in fact, they emanate from him -- specifically his mouth -- as Stein is beatboxing.
"You hear him before you see him," said Ryan Knight, a senior mechanical engineer major who started spotting Stein on campus last spring. "It's always around McBryde. I don't know why."
Beatboxing, the vocalization of traditionally hip-hop and sometimes electronic-influenced rhythms and sounds, has become a way for Stein to enjoy himself wherever he may be.
"I beatbox in between all of my classes when I'm walking on campus, I beatbox when I'm driving, and I beatbox in the shower," Stein said, who transferred to Virginia Tech last spring from the University of Washington in Seattle.
Stein decided to learn how to beatbox after seeing someone perform it for him. Initially, he figured out sounds and beats on his own, and then began using the Internet to find answers to his beatboxing needs. Stein's beatboxing has begun to give him a certain level of fame around campus.
"He is known around campus," Knight said. "Everybody knows him as 'the beatbox kid;' apparently nobody minds."
The popularity has also spawned two Facebook groups titled "BeatBox Guy is My Hero" from his old school and "Help Us Find Beatboxing Kid!" from Tech. Both pages are littered with reports of sightings including times and dates, encounters, and someone announcing to the whole page that the "Beatbox Kid's" name is Justin Stein every few posts.
Stein isn't bothered by the fact that some people make note of his every move on campus and enjoys reading the comments left on the page.
"I like to read the messages in it," Stein said. "And people say 'oh, you know, he made my day' and that's something that really makes me feel good because in essence, I'm just doing my own thing, but the fact that people really appreciate that gives me a really good feeling."
"I wouldn't say he makes my day," said Laura Nixon, who frequently spotted Stein outside of McBryde on Tuesdays and Thursdays last spring. "But he can definitely contribute to a good day."
Nixon remembers one of the times she encountered the beat box kid on campus.
"One time I was under Torg(ersen) Bridge," she said, "it was really loud so that kind of scared me, but I like it."
Over time, Stein has noticed that people's reactions are different in Blacksburg than from where he transferred.
"Actually, I really didn't get that much of a response," he said of students who heard him in Seattle. "Not that much at all, but over here people nod at me. Maybe it's just a regional thing because people here are a little more upfront and friendly."
Standing in front of the Collegiate Times office, in a blue-and-white striped polo and jeans, the noises fall out of Stein's mouth, sounding like a different musician is responsible for each one.
As he performs, he covers his mouth with his right hand. The only things visible are his eyes, a small portion of his lips and teeth spasmodically moving.
His brow tends to furrow, covering up part of his eyes and giving him a somewhat sinister appearance -- something that Stein became aware of when he used to beatbox without covering his mouth.
"I used to do that (not cover his mouth) in open areas," he said. "And people would always tell me that I looked like I was really mad."
There are not only one or two sounds, but a wall of noises that funnel into a funky beat. The rhythm is fast but never rushed, each sound trailing the other one; not crowding it, coming too early, or slipping out of beat.
There are the sounds familiar to any beatbox repertoire: the snare, the hi-hat, or the sound of a record scratching for example. People's heads start to pop out of offices along the hallway, fascinated with Stein's impromptu moment.
Stein conjured up an array of other sounds, some guttural like the cry of a didgeridoo; others sound wet, like the noise of a bubble popping or slowed down words annunciated in a "chopped and screwed" fashion. During one part he wheezed out what sounded like the words "and you're funked" in between the scratchy beat.
Making these noises, Stein said, has a lot to do with placing hard accents on sounds and words in certain places. It also has to do with the position of the lips and teeth. For example, to make the noise of a record being scratched, Stein was instructed to say a word while his mouth was positioned in a specific way.
"This guy said, 'just say 'chewie,'" Stein said. "Except spread your teeth out and flatten out your lips and it comes out."
This talent has seemingly added a certain flavor to the community in terms of a gradually building campus legend and Stein's verbal music giving as much as it gets.
Many students don't seem to mind the extra soundtrack on their way to class.
"If you see him, tell him to keep doing his thing," Knight said. "I really appreciate it."