Bobby Womack was one of the young bloods signed to SAR, Sam Cooke’s label. He and his brothers had been under Sam’s tutelage from the time they were kids. He was the man who had the balls to bed down with Sam’s wife right after he got shot, even wore Sam Cooke’s clothes to Sam Cooke’s funeral and called it a tribute, because that’s how he saw it. He got his ass physically handed to him by the Cooke family because of that, more than once. It’s been over 50 fucking years, but fans still marvel at that, talk shit. Sam Cooke was gone. Bobby Womack stuck around.
Bobby Womack recorded with Chips Moman in Memphis. He wrote songs that Wilson Pickett dug, like “I’m a Midnight Mover” and “I’m In Love”. They became friends. Pickett was swinging for the fences in these days, the 60’s. His fame eclipsed Bobby’s. Wilson would live a long time, and kicked ass for decades, until his own story ended. He’s buried in Louisville. Womack sent flowers.
Bobby Womack would get high with David Ruffin. They were tight. Smoked cocaine together, got into antics we’ll never know about. When the Temptations got back together to perform for their Rock & Roll Hall Of Fame induction and had the spotlight stolen from them by the producers focusing in on Mick Jagger and Tina Turner, Ruffin shouted out “Is Bobby Womack in the house?” because he knew his man could back him up. Not long after, Ruffin hit his last fix. But not Bobby Womack.
It’s a cliche to say things like “The world is a poorer place” or “There could never be another” and maybe that’s all a bit cheesey. Bobby Womack was anything but, so I’ll save that shit. Let’s just say he was one of the legit baddest cats in Soul music. Go across 110th Street and find out about yourself.