Robert Johnson, "The Complete Recordings" (Columbia, 1990)

In Robert Johnson's case, complete recordings meant the fruits of just two sessions before his death in August 1938. The results span a pair of CDs, including two takes of a majority of the compositions.

Considering the relatively modest output, Johnson's stature in the realm of popular seems to be way out of proportion. Many regard him as the greatest of all blues artists, beating out men whose careers spanned multiple decades, rather than just a few years. Just about all the songs on the Columbia collection appear in updated form on modern blues and rock albums. As a matter of fact, he's a charter member of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, although that particular genre wasn't conceived for another decade and a half after his demise.

Why all the accolades? There's a good story to be told about him, certainly: He sold his soul to the devil in order to play guitar like no other man, and the devil came calling when Robert still was a young man. (A movie based on that fable, Walter Hill's "Crossroads," could've been better. I mean, Ralph Macchio playing better guitar than Steve Vai? Come on!) The more grounded-in-reality version has Johnson, a notorious womanizer, slugging from a bottle of whiskey poisoned by a jealous man, and expiring shortly thereafter. Still a good tale.

Robert Johnson's big break came in the early '60s, when young British guitarists, seeking out the most obscure of American blues artists, came across his hard-to-find "King of the Delta Blues" album. With people like Eric Clapton turning "Cross Road Blues" into the electrified "Crossroads," Robert Johnson became the hottest deceased superstar around. The air of mystery surrounding his life and death didn't hurt matters, either.

A listen to "The Complete Recordings" helps shed light on what all the excitement was about. Get past the understandably low fidelity - although Columbia did a great job with spiffing up the sound - and listen to a guy playing amazing runs on the acoustic guitar while singing with an emotion that seems to show he truly lived the blues.

What's really of interest is hearing the original versions of songs you've come to know so well in the hands of other artists: "I Believe I'll Dust My Broom" (everyone from Elmore James to ZZ Top), "Rambling On My Mind," "From Four Till Late" and "Malted Milk" (more by Clapton), "Come On in My Kitchen" (Delaney and Bonnie, Climax Blues Band), "Terraplane Blues" (Canned Heat), "32-20 Blues" (Gov't Mule), "Walking Blues" (Butterfield Blues Band, Grateful Dead), "Hellhound On My Trail" (Fleetwood Mac), "Traveling Riverside Blues" (Led Zeppelin), "Milkcow's Calf Blues" (The Kinks) and of course, "Love in Vain" (Rolling Stones).

If you want to check out "The Complete Recordings," you're not alone. When Columbia pressed this collection, record company executives anticipated modest sales. Instead, the set was a hit, earning Robert Johnson a Gold Record more than half a century after his death.

It's doubtful if the devil passed the good news along to him.