Womack & Womack
It's a Family Affair
Genealogy first. Let’s start with Bobby Womack, the vocalist, songwriter, and guitarist who maintained his standing as a R&B luminary from the 1960s until his death in 2014. Womack’s career, which found him sharing his multifarious talents with everyone from Sam Cooke and Aretha Franklin to The Rolling Stones, Sly Stone, and Janis Joplin — as well as maintaining his own lustrous calling as a solo artist — deserves a separate piece. Back to genealogy, but first remain seated and take a deep breath.
Bobby Womack married Sam Cooke’s widow Barbara Campbell soon after the magisterial singer’s murder — a move that Cooke’s fan base found near sacrilegious, thus scrapping Bobby’s burgeoning career for a few years. Linda Womack was the daughter of Sam Cooke and Barbara; Bobby, on marrying Barbara, became Linda’s stepfather. Linda then married Cecil Womack, Bobby’s brother. Thus marrying her uncle-by-marriage. Let’s just say, a close family.
After years on the music business sidelines, Linda and Cecil formed a family band, Womack & Womack (truth in advertising, I guess.) In 1983 W&W released the album Love Wars, a critical success that didn’t get the full commercial love it deserved. But it had its share of exceptionally well crafted songs, beautifully sung by the couple. “Baby I’m Scared of You” is a personal favorite. I can remember watching a promo music video for the song at the time, although the single apparently wasn’t much of a major hit on either the R&B or Pop charts. No matter, for me it’s one of the great tracks of the Eighties.
From her first word on, “come,” — elongating its single syllable with elastic allure — Linda has me. She’s a subtle one, approaching the song as a push-pull game of attraction, seduction, and plenty of caution. Keeping things relatively under wraps, no hooting or hollering necessary, Linda comes off as a low-key diva; there’s a story being told, vocal prowess is secondary. Although she may be holding off her suitor, she sure isn’t holding us off.
By the time the deliciously gruff-voiced Cecil enters the picture, grabbing the extended soul coda and holding on to it for dear life, the defiantly mixed-subject song — a W&W original with assists by keyboardist Eddie Noble Jr. — has already referenced Houdini and Little Red Riding Hood; Cecil brings in Rudolph Valentino for additional cultural heft. (No matter that Houdini wasn’t exactly a magician, or that the silent era movie idol Valentino doesn’t quite fit into the extended magic metaphor. If it all allows the rhymes to work, so be it.) As always with great R&B tracks pay attention to the clenched fist hookup of the bass and drums, and the crisp production work (here by the illustrious Stewart Levine).
What a beauty.