Chester Burnett - apparently named after Chester A. Arthur of all people - was born in a place and time that allowed for his meeting Charley Patton. And although the two don't have anything that could pass for a similar guitar style, the elder performer imbued in Burnett the idea of entertainment as a raucous endeavor and one that could or perhaps should frighten and dismay some on lookers. Burnett, who took the name Howlin' Wolf after hearing stories from his grandfather warning him of the animals, snapped up a spot on a local radio station in Mississippi after returning from Seattle and a stint in the military during World War II.

Using his show as a platform to showcase his new band - which included guitarist Willie Johnson, who would, within a decade or so, be replaced by Hubert Sumlin - Wolf struck audiences as an oddity, a gruff grunter and showman who was more likely to dispense dark, danceable tales than happy love songs. It was an update on the Patton model that seemed to tout style and grit for polish and aptitude. It worked, though, and resultantly there was a biding war between two labels for Wolf's work. Eventually, though, Chess won out and Wolf drove his four thousand dollar car to Chicago.

Arriving in the north, Wolf already had a few singles in the charts, but didn't wait too long before reentering the studio. Awaiting him, though, was Sumlin. Poised to become as important a part of Wolf's career as the actually songs, Sumlin wasn't a rhythm player - which was a task left to Wolf. And Sumlin's approach to his instrument was a vocal one, coming off as a second singer on every track that Wolf would record for the remainder of his career. The pair struck on odd image together, but the physical differences didn't serve to disturb the musical kinship that the two immediately had.

Even if Wolf had recorded a number of sides while still in the south and made his way north a few years back, his first long player wasn't released until 1959. Moanin' at the Moon, may have sounded different than those early singles, but the fervor delivered on each groove of the album wasn't diminished in the least. And in fact, two of his most enduring tracks were contained within this disc. Both "Evil" and "Smokestack Lightin'" would become standards in his live set through the rest of his career.

Some of the atmospherics and down beat crawl of these blues went on to inform not just the '60s and '70s psych and loaner bands, but into the '80s and the first wave of garage retreads looked to this emaciated Diddley beat as a road map to rock. Detroit's the Gories - who really did work to reel out the screamin' blues in an updated fashion - could be thought of as direct decedents of Wolf's. But even if that band didn't exist, this first clutch of songs that made up Moanin' at the Moon, marked an important turn in American rock - and its culture.