"Forty-four" (Howlin' Wolf)

Sometimes my affection for a song stems purely from how it sounds.  In fact, I'd say that most of this list consists of tracks that appeal to me sonically, often in the form of unusual arrangements, quirky time signatures, odd instrumentation, studio wizardry, etc.  That's not saying I don't listen to or consider lyrics; I love a thought-provoking, well-written lyric.  I simply mean that my musical pretensions aren't guided by a song having to say something.  If the words resonate with me, I just consider it an added bonus.
Anyway, that brings me to the song at hand: "Forty-four." This blues standard, which is either credited to blues/boogie pianist Roosevelt Sykes (who was the first to record it in 1929) or Sykes's mentor, pianist Lee Green, basically is about a madman roaming the streets with his .44 revolver, looking for his cheating wife.
A ballad it ain't.
For as creepy as Sykes's original is, though, the great Howlin' Wolf's 1954 version will make you want to lock your doors and windows and then check them twice.  
It begins with Otis Spann's barrelhouse piano, Earl Phillips's thunderous drum pattern (which sounds like an army on the march), and Hubert Sumlin's ugly, looking-for-trouble guitar riff.  After a few bars, Wolf's voice comes in, shouting/singing I wore my .44 so long / It done made my shoulder sore.  And, by God, I believe him.  No matter how many times I listen to this track, that moment sends chills up my spine, every time.
In all, the effect of the song is like some kind of late 1800s military field drill as recast by a South Side Chicago blues band after one too many shots of Wild Turkey.  It's loud, menacing, and sonically perfect in every way.