The Chess Box does not contain all the great music Muddy Waters made. His talent and legacy are too large to be captured in a mere three discs, even one that spans from 1947 to 1972. This means, of course, that his legendary plantation recordings with Alan Lomax are not here, nor is his dynamic late-'70s comeback, Hard Again. But, truth be told, it doesn't feel like they're missing, since Waters' legend was built on the music that he made for Chess, and much of the greatest of that is here. Few box sets have chronicled an artist's best work as effectively as this; even the handful of rare, previously unreleased recordings sit perfectly next to the essential singles (this is particularly true of alternate takes of Fathers and Sons material). Sure, there are great Chess sides that aren't here, but those are great sides that the serious listener and aficionado need to seek out. For everybody else, this is a monumental chronicle of Waters at his best, illustrating his influence while providing rich, endlessly fascinating music.

Following his recorded debut as a leader for States Records, Junior Wells signed with Mel London, producing a number of sides for the producer's Chief and Profile imprints. Perhaps best-known for his spectacular harmonica playing, this period, documented on Calling All Blues, saw Wells emerging as an outstanding vocalist as well. A consummate performer with a firm grasp of the range of emotions the music can produce, Wells wrings every drop of feeling out of the lyrics. The singer growls, shouts, howls, moans across these 24 tracks including two versions of his great "I Could Cry" and other classics like "Little By Little," "Cha-Cha-Cha in Blue," and "Lovey Dovey Lovey One." While it has a great deal of overlap with the collections from Paula Records, Calling All Blues remains a fine introduction with no glaring omissions…

Lonnie Brooks' music comes from the R&B side of the blues. Brooks is a passionate singer with an intense rock-like guitar style. With the exception of "Roll of the Tumbling Dice" (a relaxed duet featuring the harmonica of Sugar Blue), the music on Roadhouse Rules is generally unrelenting in its ferocity, blues-oriented but also quite open to the influences of Stax-type soul and rock. The impressive musicianship and sincerity of Brooks' music is probably easier to respect than to love; this release gives listeners a good sampling of his playing.

The confidence that ex-Muddy Waters sideman Luther "Guitar Junior" Johnson exudes on his contemporary albums wasn't quite there in abundance yet when the French Black & Blue imprint produced this album in 1977 with the rest of his Waters bandmates in tow. A few too many hoary covers ("Sweet Home Chicago," "Mother-In-Law Blues") also grate. But as his first solo album, it's an important chapter in his development.

The best contemporary Shaw offering, cut in his old Mississippi stomping grounds with his trusty combo, the Wolf Gang. Lots of lyrically unusual originals - "Dunkin' Donut Woman," "Wine Head Hole," and "She Didn't Tell Me Everything," for starters - and Shaw's usual diamond-hard horn lines and commanding vocals make this a standout selection.

Highly-regarded blues singer and harmonica player, an unpredictable character, and a major figure of Chicago blues.
Sonny Boy Williamson was, in many ways, the ultimate blues legend. By the time of his death in 1965, he had been around long enough to have played with Robert Johnson at the start of his career and Eric Clapton, Jimmy Page and Robbie Robertson at the end of it. In between, he drank a lot of whiskey, hoboed around the country, had a successful radio show for 15 years, toured Europe to great acclaim and simply wrote, played and sang some of the greatest blues ever etched into black phonograph records. His delivery was sly, evil and world-weary, while his harp-playing was full of short, rhythmic bursts one minute and powerful, impassioned blowing the next…

Big Bill Broonzy was viewed as a beloved country blues player when he died in 1958, a master of raw and authentic-sounding folk-blues. But this public image, although Broonzy worked hard to maintain it in his later years, does him a bit of a disservice. He was much more than a rustic relic, however well he played the part. Broonzy was an excellent and even sophisticated guitarist, starting out in the '30s as a rag and hokum player but he was versatile enough to work with jazz and R&B combos, and his guitar approach was instrumental in the early formation of the Chicago blues sound. He was also a crafty songwriter, who managed to write blues pieces that bridged the line between traditional blues themes and modern structure. This 21-track collection focuses mostly on his early solo acoustic material, although there are some band pieces included as well toward the end of the sequence.

This showcase for different varieties of blues, from the acoustic harmonica/guitar work of Sonny Terry & Brownie McGhee to the electric band work of Ray Charles and Arbee Stidham, is more substantial than its 23 cuts, divided between five performers, would lead one to expect. There's no shortage of Lightnin' Hopkins recordings - and even of great Lightnin' Hopkins recordings - but he is in such fantastic form on the first four cuts of this multi-artist collection that it's worth the price of admission just for his acoustic playing on "Buck Dance Boogie," and when he jumps to electric blues on "Hello Central," his work is even more impressive. Ray Charles may only do three numbers, but he shows off some surprising attributes, his singing overpowering everything around him for the first two tracks, "Why Did You Go?" and "I Found My Baby There"…

Deep in the Blues is a fascinating jam session between James Cotton, guitarist Joe Louis Walker, and jazz bassist Charlie Haden. The trio runs through a number of classic blues songs written by Muddy Waters, Percy Mayfield, and Sonny Boy Williamson and a few originals by Walker and Cotton. The sound is intimate and raw, which is a welcome change from Cotton's usual overproduced records.

The powers that be at Alligator were subjected to a fair amount of criticism for taking a 1977 album of standards that Otis Rush had cut in Sweden and overdubbing Lucky Peterson's keyboards to make the thing sound fuller and more contemporary. History, after all, should not be messed with. But it's still a reasonably successful enterprise, with Rush imparting his own intense twist to "I Miss You So," "You Don't Have to Go," and "Little Red Rooster."

Troubles, Troubles was originally recorded for Sonet, but is probably better known through its re-release as Lost in the Blues by Alligator. Lost in the Blues was justifiably criticized because of the decision to have Lucky Peterson overdub a bunch of keyboards in order to give it a more "contemporary" (read: more "Alligator") sound. This release is of the original album (with a couple bonus alternate takes) without all the overdubbing, and is a vast improvement over the Alligator version. But how does it stand as an Otis Rush album? It's a very good set – perhaps "comfortable" says it best – recorded with Rush's longstanding band of Bob Levis on rhythm guitar, Bob Stroger on bass, and Jesse Lewis Green on drums (despite what the package says).

There wasn't any musical generation gap between young Chicago guitarist Specter and his much older front man Barkin' Bill Smith. Specter's love for the electrified 1950s styles of Magic Sam, T-Bone Walker, and B.B. King blended well with Smith's deep, almost crooning baritone pipes on what was the debut album for both men. Lots of breezy swing informs the retro-styled set.