A sunscreen has yet to be invented that can block out the dizzy euphoria one feels after too many years in the Land of the Midnight Sun. Deep in the Frozen North, sequestered in the wild 27,000 square mile expanse that is the Great Yukon, one lone hillbilly is the rock & roll master of his snowy domain. Clubbed over the head by the Spell of the Yukon at an early age, Al Oster has spent his entire life singing about the majestic charms of the frozen wasteland to anyone who would listen. Oster's first 45 on his own Tundra record label is his best. He's still out there, decades later, warbling his chilly verses to the indifferent North Wind. The next time you have an opportunity to swing an Eskimo, raise a Popsicle to the Mr. Freeze of Rockabilly.