(his real name was ) may have been the rawest artist in the stable, and with a roster list that included , , and , that's saying something. 's barely serviceable (but surprisingly effective) vocals and rudimentary electric guitar skills, backed by sparse drums and the occasional blast of a harmonica, all drenched in producer 's trademark bayou reverb, are the very definition of the genre that came to be known as . The title of this collection of 's early singles, , seems more than apt, since everything here is stripped to just nerve and bone, and there is the feeling that just one more take of any of these tunes would tip things right over the edge into howling madness. 's interjection of "blow your harmonica, son" (the harp player was , more often than not) on nearly every track starts to border on repetitive obsession, and you can't help but notice that if things were stripped down any more, these songs would cease to exist at all. These sides are simply some of the most primal ever recorded. Among the highlights on this dark, somber disc are two versions of the zapped-up (at least for ) and the absolutely delightful ~ Steve Leggett