Rome, juillet 1859 : du fond d'un monastère, une religieuse appelle au secours, car on cherche à l'empoisonner. Ce n'est pas n'importe qui : Katharina von Hohenzollern descend de la famille impériale allemande. Sa plainte auprès de l'Inquisition romaine déclenche un procès qui va mettre au jour des vices et même des crimes inouïs. En effet, depuis des années on vénère comme saintes au monastère de Sant'Ambrogio des religieuses pourtant condamnées autrefois pour " sainteté prétendue "…
Howlin' Wolf may be gone, but his spirit lives on, as this 13-track tribute album featuring members of the Wolf's own band attests. Sam Lay, Eddie Shaw, Hubert Sumlin, and the rest are as tight and smooth as they ever were playing behind Howlin' Wolf, and they've got an array of guest stars to do the Wolf proud. Taj Mahal (sounding a good bit like Wolf himself) is here, as are guitar-slinger Debbie Davies and multi-instrumentalist Kenny Neal. Lucinda Williams does a bluesy turn, and there are contributions from Lucky Peterson, James Cotton, and more. The CD features plenty of Wolf favorites, including "Saddle My Pony," "Howlin' for My Darling," "The Red Rooster," "Howlin' Wolf Boogie," and "Smokestack Lightnin'," among others. All in all, it's a fitting tribute to a man whose contribution to the blues is immeasurable.
Loose jam feel offers Sumlin plenty of space. This 1975 set was his first as leader. Quiet and extremely unassuming off the bandstand, Hubert Sumlin played a style of guitar incendiary enough to stand tall beside the immortal Howlin' Wolf. The Wolf was Sumlin's imposing mentor for more than two decades, and it proved a mutually beneficial relationship; Sumlin's twisting, darting, unpredictable lead guitar constantly energized the Wolf's 1960s Chess sides, even when the songs themselves (check out "Do the Do" or "Mama's Baby" for conclusive proof) were less than stellar. Sumlin started out twanging the proverbial broom wire nailed to the wall before he got his mitts on a real guitar. He grew up near West Memphis, Arkansas, briefly hooking up with another Young Lion with a rosy future, harpist James Cotton, before receiving a summons from the mighty Wolf to join him in Chicago in 1954. Sumlin learned his craft nightly on the bandstand behind Wolf, his confidence growing as he graduated from rhythm guitar duties to lead. By the dawn of the '60s, Sumlin's slashing axe was a prominent component on the great majority of Wolf's waxings, including "Wang Dang Doodle," "Shake for Me," "Hidden Charms" (boasting perhaps Sumlin's greatest recorded solo), "Three Hundred Pounds of Joy," and "Killing Floor." Although they had a somewhat tempestuous relationship, Sumlin remained loyal to Wolf until the big man's 1976 death.
Hubert Sumlin was Howlin' Wolf's guitar player for 23 years, and his jagged, desperate, and angular guitar playing was a big part of Wolf's rough-and-tumble sound. This album was recorded in October 1986 at Newbury Sound in Boston, 11 years after Wolf's death, and although Sumlin had headlined some European albums, it was to be his debut solo album in the U.S. The sessions were initiated and put together by guitarist Ronnie Earl, who arranged for the presence of an all-star band, and brought in Mighty Sam McClain to handle most of the vocals, since Sumlin was notoriously reticent about occupying center stage. The result was really more of a jam session than anything else, and Sumlin doesn't really assert himself on any of these tracks, although his hesitant, soft, and fragile vocal on "How Can You Leave Me, Little Girl?" gives the song a real poignancy that manages to overcome the banal lyrics. There was nothing shy about McClain's singing, however, and he grabs the vocal microphone on four of the songs, including the strong opening track, a version of Willie Dixon's "Hidden Charms." Originally released on LP in 1987 by Black Top Records, Hubert Sumlin's Blues Party has a loose, fairly generic sound, and a case could be made that Sumlin wasn't quite ready yet for a solo career. Still, the album has its charms.