This post marks my return from “The Last Frontier,” Alaska. Yes, I’ve spent the last couple weeks far removed from what I consider civilization, cavorting with cohos, bears, foxes, moose, and mosquitoes. And the hot-fudge milkshake at Lucky Wishbone in Anchorage (oh man, they’d burn the hot-fudge just a bit for a palate pleasing punch. Heaven!). We did spend a few days in the wilderness, about fifteen miles north west of Willow where I mostly hung around the banks of the Deshka River with a fishing pole, coaxing those silver salmon onto my hook. Don’t mistake me for an outdoorsman though. My idea of the outdoors is the not-so-desolate stretch of the Pacific Ocean where I’m never too far from the Ahi Steak Sandwich at TK Burger. Once home, I stopped by the over-flowing post office box to begin catching up on music. The Laureates lured me in first with their brightly packaged advance of their debut album There are No More Gentlemen. I was easily hooked by their raw, ’60s freakbeat sound and their jerky, syncopated rhythms. A couple early Laureates fans beat me to some apt descriptions like “equal parts paisley and punk” and “Interpol produced by Phil Spector.” Absolutely right up my alley. You can also download their first EP off their site.
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