When I try to explain Howlin’ Wolf to the uninitiated, I usually start this way: The Rolling Stones once agreed to appear on a televised 1960s-era music program only if they could open for him, not the other way around. Here’s that famous appearance:

And that gives you an idea of the power of the Wolf, a hulking physical presence whose voice sounded like he gargled with a mixture of honey and Red Devil Lye. I’d argue that the Wolf was the hippest blues musician who ever lived, despite his appearance (he was 6 feet, 6 inches tall, giving him a build more suitable for an NFL left tackle than for a musician) and sharecropper background. He sang fantastic songs (few people could pull off lines like, “I asked her for water — she brought me gasoline” or “I’m built for comfort, baby — I ain’t built for speed”), did a whole album with British rock gods of the late 1960s, battled with Muddy Waters to be the baddest artist at Chess Records, still influences rock ‘n’ rollers to this day.

I’ve covered all sorts of Wolf songs over the years, both as a singer and a harp player (Wolf was a terrific and underappreciated harp guy). Songs like “Shake For Me” and “Howlin’ For My Baby” are longtime chestnuts in my current band (click on the links to hear our versions), with “Shake” in particular still capable of changing a bar gig into a full-blown party.

NPR’s “50 Great Voices” series is featuring the Wolf right now. Probably most people under 40 (and heck, most people over 40) have never heard of him. But he still gets call-outs from Musicians Who Know, and not just blues musicians, either. For example, Lucinda Williams mentions him by name in “Lake Charles,” a cut on Car Wheels On A Gravel Road: “We used to drive through Lafayette and Baton Rouge/In a yellow El Camino, listening to Howlin’ Wolf.”

If you want to understand American music, you have to understand Howlin’ Wolf (not to mention his guitarist, Hubert Sumerlin, a guy I’ve met a couple of times). There aren’t a lot of people who could sing about being “300 pounds of heavenly joy” and get away with it. There aren’t many people who could climb up the proscenium arch on a stage during a concert — when they were in their 60s. And there’s no one like the Wolf.