Bobby Womack has been making music for twenty long years, an odyssey that carried him from the working quarters of Cleveland to the rocking corners of Hollywood.

At an early age he believed and nurtured a simple philosophy. "You gotta go through it if ya wanna get to it." For Womack's incessant drive coupled with his inborn musical ability wasn't going to allow him the pleasure of remaining in one place for too long. Not wasting any time, the creative seed was planted at age seven when Womack began singing in a gospel group with his four brothers.

"See my father had a group, a gospel group, and they rehearsed every Wednesday. They couldn't sing that good, but I had to put up with 'em anyway. I would listen to 'em all the time and me and my four brothers would mock 'em, pretend that we were the group after they left. And that's how we got into singin'." Womack's father heard his imitative sons and realizing how talented they were decided to put The Womack Brothers on a tour of the church circuit. Their gospelling helped to pay the rent but church singing was soon abandoned for "boogie woogie." "We just wanted to go off into it but at that time we were young and we were thinking about being stars." With a name change The Valentines recorded the original version of Womack's first composed song. Entitled 'It's All Over Now' (the very same that the Stones later recorded) the Valentinos sold close to 500,000 copies and encouraged by his early success, Bobby decided to break off on his own.

His ramblings brought him to California ("I came here in search of gold but only found hills and a lot of people") where he experienced a lean five-year period before anything really started happening. Via word of mouth, subsequent relationships resulted in Womack's schooling with the "heavyweights" of soul: Sam Cooke, Ray Charles, Aretha Franklin, and Wilson Pickett. That unstoppable curiosity drove him south for three months where he learned the workings of a studio and from his ever-increasing reputation as a guitarist, played on albums with The Boxtops, Dionne Warwick, and Gabor Szabo.

Womack's own recording history began in 1968 when he signed with (what was then) a subsidiary of UA Records. Minit Records was soon dissolved ("I thought they were the worst company in the business, they were the most laziest company") and Bobby found himself on the mother label, UA. Since that time he has had an impressive catalog of albums, starting with his debut album entitled Fly Me To The Moon and continuing with My Prescription, Womack Live, Communication and his two most recent records Understanding and the soundtrack Across 110th Street. Although he is justifiably pleased with everything he has done he feels his live album is the most important. "I think what helped me find myself a lot was the live album; I got a chance so really hear myself."

Understanding and Across 110th Street will undoubtedly bring him the exposure he was hunting for twelve years ago when he first set foot on California soil. 'Understanding' was written for his son (Vincent) right after Bobby parted with his wife. "I never did get a chance to see him and every time I would see him he's say 'Oh, yeah. I know, you're goin' on the road again.' So I said, well 'understanding between father and son,' so I put him on the album." As well as the paternal relationship, Womack has an understanding with his music as heard on the album. It's a combination of personal and universal songs written in styles ranging from Oriental timbres to Cleveland funk.

Womack's most recent work is a soundtrack he completed in two weeks entitled Across 110th Street. A brilliant portrayal of the Harlem ghetto translated into music, Bobby provides yet another dimension to his multi-talented character. He approached UA and told them of his interest in doing a score and two days later they called him back in Detroit about an upcoming film starring Anthony Quinn. Womack assured them of his readiness to start the project and was told he had a two-week deadline in which to compose ten songs "I went back to LA and watched the picture and met the cast, got with J.J. (Johnson, who scored the instrumental tracks on the album) who gave me a lot of pointers on timing and there it was." One of the reasons why he felt confident in creating the score in such a short time is that the film was about things he had dealt with; the ghetto and drugs. His only criticism, however, was about the way in which the film coordinators handled the music after it was completed. "Like they had a guy's head being put under the presses and they were playing something like "I Don't Care How You Do It." Womack had viewed the picture some ten times and had written songs for particular parts of the movie. In his own words, "I wouldn't have no funky music like that when they were killing a guy."

After twenty years of experiencing and learning Bobby Womack seems to have finally untied the Gordian knot that has hung around hit neck for so long. He claims to have been a "shucker," a man writing about something he knew nothing of. But now his days of shuckin' are over, he looks at the world through eyes that have seen the real, the physical. Bobby knows the pleasure of being able to set his feet on the ground and stay put, although a current forty-five date tour with Santana won't leave him much time for relaxing. A fairly recent engagement at the Whisky showcased his four-month-old band (Peace) and material from Understanding and Across 110th Street. Sly Stone, Mick Jagger, Stu Gillam, and Jim Brown were all present to experience a sampling of some Womack magic, but aside from all the frills that have adorned Bobby's present acclaim, his recognition as an artist is important for another reason: he is heralding a new direction in black music.

Coupled with the efforts of artists such as Isaac Hayes, Curtis Mayfield, and Stevie Wonder, Womack is helping to shape black music into something more than the longstanding stereotyped sound. With the likes of Womack the black musician is breaking away from the sterility that has surrounded his music. "Oh man, I'm telling you, the Motown thing is dead as far as that goes. There's nowhere you could move; everything was a set pattern. I like freedom in music; and when you show freedom, then you got me."