Waters swaggers his way through the song, announcing his arrival as a king bee equipped with a lethal sting. Smith's harp is as hard-edged as the leader's vocal, braying with the recalcitrance of a country mule. The rhythm section sets up the tune with a kind of brutal grace. Willie Smith slaps his drum-kit like with a deceptive nonchalance. Jones rumbles menacingly beneath the cacophony of Lawhorn and Madison's churning guitars.
Waters crows like a rooster in heat, coiling around each verse with a sly sexuality.
Smith is, again, called on to add urgency to the tune, which he does with a dramatic flair, blowing with fanatical glee. The band locks in on the groove with murderous intent. Here Perkins' playing is at the fore, highlighting the tune's rhythmic fury. Smith pounds away at his kit like a locomotive gone awry. This disc proves that Muddy Waters was the undisputed boss of blues.