New York—Bobby Womack was in the midst of a highly successful tour with Santana. His single, "Harry Hippie," had just been certified gold, the first gold record of his ten-year-old career, and his album, Understanding, was close to gold. In the midst of the tour he decided to take a short trip to his home in L.A., and when he returned East for a concert at Newark's Symphony Hall, something was obviously wrong.

The week before in Philadelphia, he had left the audience in such an uproar that they weren't ready for the new ethereal stance of Santana. Using techniques he had acquired from years as a gospel singer and as band leader for Sam Cooke and Wilson Pickett, Womack tore up the Spectrum. Here in Newark, resplendent in a green and silver R&B outfit, he limped around the stage singing through a cut upper lip and occasionally holding his chest as if he were in pain.

Backstage after the concert, Bobby explained the cut and the clumsiness: He'd sustained the cut and minor chest injuries in a bicycle accident.

"You ever tried to sing when it hurt just to talk?" he asked, smiling a painful smile. Two of his teeth were broken.

The week before, right after the Spectrum date, we had met under better circumstances. Womack was in a more talkative position and mood, lounging on the bed in his hotel room trying to arrange his schedule. "I think my company stinks," he began. "The reason I hang with them is because I feel sorry for them because I know they don't know what to do with a nigger, and that's what I want you to write. They say, 'Hey man, Don McLean is the one,' and I say, 'Yeah man, but look how long he's been holding the ball and ya'll done thrown the sink on him and everything, shit on him, and this nigger still selling with nothing. You gave me what you give him in terms of promotion and Bobby Womack would be a superstar.'"

Womack has an individual approach to his music that, in spite of his energetic/gospel roots, lifts him out of the category of the average R&B performer. But there has been a recent discovery of a spirit that is not as easily traced. One example of this is the song "I Can Understand It," which was a big favorite in New York long before the New Birth made it a national hit with their cover version. Another song from the Understanding LP which drew a lot of local attention was "Simple Man." "Do It Right," from the soundtrack album Across 110th Street, is supposed to be the follow-up single to the title tune currently on the charts; and that might help draw attention to another side of Bobby Womack; up to now all his big hits have been ballads—"That's the Way I Feel About 'Cha," "Woman's Gotta Have It," which scored with the help of a warm bass line that is a trademark of Bobby's style, and, of course, "Harry Hippie."

"Yeah I was surprised, because that's the kind of thing I like to be getting into, but when you get too involved into your personal feelings, well let's face it, if you don't sell records out here, you don't eat. So I said, 'Hey man, I should put "Harry Hippie" on here just as my personal song' ...and it turned out to be the one. It's not coming down on anybody; it's just saying Harry Hippie he's cool doing what he's doing, whoever Harry Hippie is. Like a cat came up to me and he was drinking, he was real fucked up, and he says to me, 'Man that's really a fucking shame you coming down on the long-hair freaks man.'"

Womack laughed and rolled over on the bed, doing a fair imitation of a drunk. "And I says, 'You mean I was talking about you? Well, if you listened to the lyrics, then you're that no account motherfucker.' A hippie ain't that, a hippie is somebody who's hip to the system."

Womack's album Across 110th Street made the charts, but there was no major promotional push because the previous album, Understanding, was getting active again. Womack doesn't know whether to be elated or disgusted. But he has definite feelings about the way his music was handled in the movie.

"They put all my songs in the wrong place," he moaned. "Like they got one scene where they putting a cat's head under a presser and they playing 'Do It Right.' Now ain't that a bitch? You know where that song was supposed to be? It was when the cat was in the bed with those four chicks. I was talking about what he was doing, man.