A couple of years ago, in the middle of that lull between Christmas and New Years, I saw Alexis Tucci lay down a ridiculous set of disco/house goodness at Lucky Bar here in my hometown Victoria. I knew nothing about her when I got there, but was instantly elated with her DJ ing, her very shiny jacket and, most of all, the very obvious joy she was taking from playing for the sweaty mass in front of her. Since then I've found that she's basically a legend in St. Louis. (And if you want to dispute the use of the term 'legend', you don't make a 30 year career in music, playing or promoting it, without being some kind of legend.) It's taken a couple of years but she's finally back in Victoria (Unless I just missed her some other time in between...) except this time she's here for Halloween instead of Christmas. “I love Halloween. I love the celebration. Everybody gets to act like somebody other than themselves, let loose and be weird,” says Tucci, from her hometown St. Louis. “I wish it was like that every day. But it's the one holiday that really puts the exclamation point on it.”

Usually at this point in the 5 questions I'd present some more thoughts, feelings and/or facts about the answerer. When I talked with Tucci she told me an incredible story about building community through music, that I think really encapsulates what makes the work she's doing, in DJ ing and in promoting, something very special.

“I went to AfrikaBurn, was brought in through a group of South Africans that had met me at Burning Man months prior. I had known since Burning Man that I had this invitation to go to AfrikaBurn to play for this brand new camp. They'd never built a sound camp and were building this camp for my arrival. But I couldn't fully confirm because my father was very ill and he ended up passing two weeks before Africa Burn was supposed to happen. So I decided to pack my bags after his passing and head out there. The people who actually brought me out I had never met before and they had never me but obviously we were connected through music. The camp they had set up for us – the soundsystem, the way that it was laid out – was so perfectly crafted and hand built, small and intimate, very much the way I would have done it myself. Out in Africa. It was just perfect.
After the first night of dropping my first track, the place exploded. And everything that we've been building in St. Louis, I felt reflected by all of these strangers from all over the world in front of me. Because I was basically the only DJ for the sound camp – there were a couple other people they knew of, but in general I held down all the hours. Anywhere from 4-6 hours a night. The last night I played 10 hours back-to-back with this South African DJ. Every night from the second the first record dropped to the second the last record played, I had a totally packed crowd in the middle of the desert, with the wind blowing in this tent. The relationship with these people was unlike anything I'd ever experienced before and it was the best DJing I've executed, ever. Completely free of trepidation, fear or self-consciousness or anything. It was so comfortable.”

1.What's the first album you bought with your own money?
That's a really tough answer. I really can't remember so I'm going to give you a different answer. Thievery Corporation and Dub Syndicate, because those were the records I started buying. I did buy a ton of disco and funk. Disco has been the foreshadowing tone of my entire 30-year career. It makes me laugh, every once in awhile I'll remember another something that happened eons ago when disco music was a priority for me, and I forgotten about it, and here I am making a career out of it. Frankie Knuckles “The Whistle Song” was the very first track that I was really able to identify with and geek out. Once I was going to parties – you know once you get past the point where it sounds like one long song and you really can start differentiating between DJing, what you're listening to – that song was the one. Frankie Knuckles is the godfather of House. He's the man. If you listen to the song now it sounds so dated, but those are the foundations, when disco switched over to house music.

"Bob Marley became the voice of third world pain and resistance, the sufferer in the concrete jungle who would not be denied forever. Outsiders everywhere heard Marley as their own champion; if he could make himself heard, so could they, without compromises. In 2096, when the former third world has overrun and colonised the former superpowers, Bob Marley will be commemorated as a saint." - John Parales

Few albums have the ability to grate my nerves like Legend. For the longest time I held it as a shining example of everything that people misunderstood about reggae. I knew so many people who had that album, and no other, and claimed to be a fan of reggae. There was no Lee Perry on their shelves. No Burning Spear. No Toots Hibbert. Not even Bunny Wailer or Peter Tosh. It was simply Legend. Every reggae band I saw in concert had at least one Bob Marley song. Street performers all played "Three Little Birds" or "Redemption Song," the latter being especially bothersome as a "guy at the party with the guitar" song. It was Bob Marley overload. Everywhere I went I was inundated with Marley and his most famous songs. I began to actively avoid and resent not just Legend, but the entire Marley cannon. Then one day I was in the record store and I was compelled for some unknown reason to pick up Burnin', the seminal Wailers record. This was shortly after I had begun smoking cannabis on a regular basis and by the time the final notes of what is now my favourite Marley song, "Rastaman Chant," came to an end I knew I had fallen into a serious rabbit hole.

5 Questions with Rags #75 - Alexis Tucci

I think about Bob Marley on his birthday and would like to share some of those thoughts.