Bobby Womack, Forum, London, review While Nicole Scherzinger described soul music as "cocoa pops with full fat milk" on Saturday's X Factor, American legend Bobby Womack was back to prove it was altogether something much less fluffy and creamy with his deep, confessional poetry and hypnotic grooves. The fact that he was playing on the same night as the Rolling Stones, who had their first number one hit when they covered his song It's All Over Now in 1964, threw into stark relief how unkind life has been to Womack. Despite his formidable talent as a songwriter, musician and singer, his career and personal life has been dogged by bad luck and tragedy. Ostracised by many contemporaries in the R&B world for marrying Sam Cooke's widow the year after that Stones breakthrough, Womack gave musical gems to the likes of Janis Joplin and Wilson Pickett rather than release under his own name, before a stint of solo success in the early Seventies. Lately, that patronage came in the shape of Damon Albarn and XL record label boss Richard Russell. The two seem to have graduated from Nineties crate digging for rare grooves to scouring America for lost soul talents vulnerable to a West London electronic remix. They scored a hit album with Gil Scott Heron a few years ago and this year was Womack's turn. There was definitely some tension in the audience though when, with Albarn and Russell as his backing band, this appeared like the only material Womack was going to perform. Diagnosed with colon cancer this year, the 68-year-old was helped to his seat, dressed in an eye-popping red leather outfit that strangely made him seem even older and more frail. The sparse, electronic jazz beats of his new songs sounded even tinnier live than on record but Womack's voice, as ringed and knotted as an ancient oak tree, was still magnificent. It was a relief, though, when he announced a second act with a traditional band: the atmosphere was transformed instantly from austere appreciation to full-on soul revue. Womack, changed into a black leather number, looked like he'd had a miracle cure backstage; he cast aside the chair to strut at the front of the stage. This physical energy came somewhat at the expense of his voice although a fantastic trio of backing singers helped him carry the weight of his greatest hits. He ploughed through 13 of them, including Harry Hippie and That's The Way I Feel About Cha, but the awkward pacing meant that after a cracking start, a ballad-heavy ending dragged.