Tucker Booth is a man of many talents. While out and about in his hometown of St. Louis, you might find him playing street music for tips on Delmar Boulevard, rapping with his fellow Frozen Foods in the club, rehabbing rundown homes in the Maplewood area, or putting shingles on the palatial mansions of West County with college roofers. Booth discovered the stage at an early age, performing in talent shows and musicals throughout middle school, and then starring in a number of plays during high school and college. His love of music and theatre created an easy transition to front-man and lead singer for several bands in the St. Louis area. In 2001 Booth joined forces with Jonathan Toth from Hoth, adding his creative talents to The Frozen Food Section. He has served as lead vocalist, publicist, promoter, and concert booker for Frozen Food since 2002. Booth and Toth have released 8 albums to date: Will Rap 4 Food (2003), Tucker Booth 4 President (2004), Valet (2006), ExBoyfriend (2009), ExFiles (2010), The Dark Side EP and Men With Beards (2011). His 8th release is a compilation of previously unreleased acoustic ballads entitled Loves, which is available for free download from their website.

Tucker Now Lives In Redondo Beach, CA with his family and is currently booking shows and selling his music independently. For booking or sales info email tuckerbooth@hotmail.com or call (424) 400-9399.

He writes for www.hiphopclub.biz, “Tucker Booth Needs A Blog” and locashmagazine.com.

He emcees and hosts Mondays from 4:00 to 7pm (St. Lou time) on www.killradio.org

J-Toth raps, sings, makes beats, records artists, mixes the music, masters it and releases it thru the Frozen Food Section. His fingerprints are usually all over anything you hear here…so hear, hear.

Excerpt from an interview with Dr. Calc2:

Calc2 > what is the cruelest thing you’ve ever seen one human do to another?

Helias > i was enrolled in a military academy for most of high school, and it would get pretty crazy. after my first year, i was placed in charge of about 20 cadets in my own platoon, and i was responsible for them shining their clothes and shoes and marching straight and cleaning their rooms, etc. this school was basically filled with addicts and gangbangers, so there was confrontation built into every aspect of life. when someone didn’t walk the way they were supposed to or talked back or didn’t shine their belt buckle enough, they’d get dealt with by a cadet goon squad made up of the oldest and meanest students that were sanctioned by the commandant and tac officers – the adult officers that are signed to each building to make sure it doesn’t turn into lord of the flies in there – and basically allowed to rule their respective companies with force.

> i had a kid named black in my platoon who never did shit. i mean nothing at all, this kid was terrible. he would always sham out when it was time to do work, never cleaned or did any of those other important things like shine his hat. because that’s important, that hat shining. so he was a fuck, but it didn’t matter too much. i was in charge and i was trying to not treat these scared kids the same way i was treated when i was them, alone in a new place where big scary motherfuckers hit you indiscriminately with mops. so we all covered for black, we did his work for him, shined his shit for him. but one day, the first sergeant and the xo made it down to our floor for inspection and saw his hellhole of a room. black made these guys furious. they saw his blatant disregard for the rules and just lost it. they called our entire platoon out in front of this kid’s room so they could witness what nonconformity would get them, and they beat this kid to within an inch of his life. they beat him with a dirt devil. and they made me watch. and i’m not saying they ‘made’ me watch, like you stay here and watch this please, no, this enormous dude got my ass in a headlock so i could recognize exactly how much i had let black down by not already beating him into understanding what the rules were. they were trying to get me to understand that this was my fault.

> the whole time they’re savagely beating this kid, he’s being a little punk ass, telling them off and escaping and hiding under his bed, they’d flip the bed and he’d use that chance to hide in the closet and tell them off some more, all bloody and fucked up and irreverent. it was working for him until the company commander arrived. this guy shut everything down, he ordered the entire company to form up in front of the building like we did every morning before class and then moved the party to the roof. it was a tall building, five stories. they took black up there, and me with him because i was responsible for his inability to bounce a quarter off of his bed.

> at this point i was genuinely scared for his life. if you could have seen him you’d have been too – he looked like a truck hit him. but he was still a little punk, not giving them the satisfaction of seeing him give in and give up the control they were trying to take from him. they took him to the roof, and in front of the whole company, about a hundred or hundred and fifty people, the two biggest guys each grabbed one of his legs and held him off of the edge of the roof. i hope i go through the rest of my life without ever hearing a sound like the one black made when he realized they were holding him off of the edge of a building and might actually drop him. he broke down, pissed all over himself, basically went into seizures, which was making it hard for these guys to hold him so they threw him on the roof, where he just curled up and didn’t move. he left about a week later. the bruises were too much for the administrative office to hide from his parents, who came and got him and then eventually pressed a lawsuit on the school that effectively shut it down as a ‘military’ academy. all of the the students involved were expelled, including me. but yeah, that was easily the worst.

FOR FREE MUSIC BY HELIAS: myspace.com/heliasdmk

Things that make Me throw up: One night I went out and got drunk. My own idolatry. The way I surround myself with pretties and it drives me bonkers. I despise fake flowers and all kinds of simulated nature. Abuse of power. My old yearbooks and the Chinese Zodiac. Ghosts and atomic bombs. Goldschlager.

My history begins with Christina Jean Bereolos (1874-1957), the daughter of a German immigrant who made a fortune in the petroleum industry. In 1897, on a railroad job in Arizona, Bereolos bought a Navajo deerskin shirt. Her passion for collecting soon overtook her engineering and banking careers. She crisscrossed the Americas, even traveling to Europe in pursuit of treasures. Her collection, one of the world’s finest, grew to 800,000 objects, ranging from delicate Pomo baskets to Mayan gold and jade. Little escaped her acquisitive eye and purse: Mohawk beaded hats, Mapuche silver and textiles, gold Inca figurines, wood carvings from the Haida, embroidered Huron cigar cases, Seneca corn-husk dolls, Navajo baskets and blankets. Among her finds were such historically significant items as Geronimo’s hat, Chief Joesph’s rifle cases and Sitting Bull’s drum. Later in life, Bereolos worked in the St. Louis Bread Company chain and at the downtown McGowan playground.

As a little girl I remember watching Walt Disney’s The Bear and feeling akin to the animals and appalled by humans. You see, the bear cub’s mother gets shot by sport hunters, and the orphaned bear subsequently endures a night of mushroom-induced hallucinations of frogs. From this I gathered that I like animals that acted like animals instead of humans.

Pan from early childhood shot to Christina at eighteen.

(This is a journal entry:) When I first got off the plane my brain wasn’t functioning properly. It was my body doing the feeling. My stomach felt knotted like imperfections in wood. I believed everyone knew where I was coming from, how little I know about the world and how young I am. But they don’t, I imagine they are just about as beautifully blended as I am. Confused about this world and eager to find themselves.

I had traveled to Australia. I was beginning to learn how to see myself in a world that was not my world. In a few months I would get the rare opportunity to visit Arnhem Land, which is basically the one gigantic reservation for Australia’s indigenous people. White people rarely get to see this area, since it is reserved for the Aborigines. There are only faint dust roads leading to where we were going. I was traveling with some fellow Americans and we had arrived in our Toyota Coasters. As we sat in the air conditioning for fifteen minutes, I watched the Aborigines tend to fires while mangy dogs ran around animal bones and scattered trash from the locked-out white world. It looked like a developing country with a few traces of modern consumerism. We had pamphlets that suggested ways to show respect to the Aborigines such as, don’t make eye contact, something I love to do but can be invasive, and to ask before taking pictures of people. A few of my friends read with me, but no one else did. A man began getting all up in this woman’s face that was cooking a snake and began snapping a dozen pictures. I looked at this and thought, “what for? What is he trying to acquire? Why am I here and how can I stop being so stupid?”

Christy sees the world
Like it’s a Baby Boy
Whose Diapers need Changing…

—Tucker Booth