First Published in Country Music International – November 1998

In these heady days of alt.country and pop crossover, it's a refreshing surprise to hear a dynamic voice that keeps things strictly country, but LEE ANN WOMACK is the real deal. Having already racked up platinum sales for her debut album, she's now poised to build on that success with her second offering SOME THINGS I KNOW. "If it's a country song it needs to be country," she insists. Alan Cackett believes her.

Hearing your major label debut hailed as ‘brilliant’ by almost everyone just might be the next-worst thing to seeing it panned. To then see that album gradually build up sales, pass gold and go on to platinum can be like a double-edged sword. Can you follow it up, or have we seen pretty much everything you’ve got? Maybe you were just plain lucky ...

Lee Ann Womack, an artist who seemingly makes no compromises musically, lyrically or otherwise—managed to touch a broad section of the American country mainstream with her self-titled Decca album debut last year, and follows that with her second album SOME THINGS I KNOW, on which she affirms that she is on the road to the kind of success of which long, illustrious careers are made.

"I don’t know if you ever feel like you’ve actually made it," she says candidly in her soft Texas drawl. "I’d been in the business a long time before I got my record deal, and I just take it all one step at a time. Having my first album accepted so positively was great, but it does place a lot of pressure on you. With the new one, we didn't venture out too much or change anything." 

She has resisted attempts to polish her drawl in the hope of making her sound like a more readily-acceptable Hollywood soft-rocker. One listen to Womack's seasoned voice reveals someone born to sing exquisite country melodramas to the accompaniment of soaring fiddle and mournful steel guitar. She's very straight ahead, whether writing and singing ballads or up-tempo numbers, possessing an old-fashioned country voice with the unique ability to wring buckets of emotion from a lyric.

"If I'm going to cut a country song then I'm going to cut it like I think a country song ought to be cut, not try to mask it by taking the fiddles or something else out," she vows emphatically. "If it's a country song it needs to be country."

The Texan brunette went to Nashville on her own to forge a career, and her fierce, spunky independence shows through in her writing and singing. She bounced around Music City for years doing showcases, getting married, having a child, getting divorced, and finally landing a writing deal with Sony/ATV Tree Publishing. As a performer, however, she became discouraged and for all of three minutes, considered doing whatever style it took to become accepted.

She stuck to her guns, though, and teamed up with producer Mark Wright to deliver her staunchly traditional country debut album and became the talk of the town. It doesn't always happen with artists, but the buzz was on Womack right from the start. Initially it came from the specialist quarters as journalists commenced laying down mountains of words on the lady. Country radio was a little slow to catch on. Her first single, the traditonal-sounding Never Again, Again, met a lukewarm reception, but was propelled up the charts by sales, stalling at a relatively disappointing Number 23.

"I cannot even begin to explain how bummed I was; I was devastated," Womack says of the track's lack of radio success. "That song was like my baby. It's a work of art, so incredibly simple. Anyone could have sung it, and I would have loved it."

That first single genuinely reflects Womack's grass-roots country upbringing. As a child in Jacksonville, a town of some 12,000 inhabitants deep in East Texas, she grew up listening to WSM and the Grand Ole Opry. When the kids were hanging out in the parking lot at WalMart, she would tune the car radio to WSM—to everyone else's disgust.

"It is a very, very small town,' she explains. "There was just one high school. Everybody knew everybody; a couple of Dairy Queens, no McDonalds or anything like that, when I was little. The nearest mall was at Tyler, about 30 miles away. So everything kinda revolved around high school, football and all of that kind of thing."

In high school she skipped the traditional senior trip to go, by herself, to Nashville, just to see the country music haunts and landmarks. On that trip, she began plotting her move to Music City. In school, the career and college counsellor told her that country music was not an acceptable goal. "You need to have something to fall back on," she recalls being told.

For a 17-year-old from a small country town, exploring a big city like Nashville can be tough, but Womack was determined to succeed. She gritted her teeth and set out to make her dream of country music stardom work. "It was very difficult," she admits, "because I was such a homebody and such a daddy's and mama's girl. Getting used to living away from home for all those years was hard."

That short period in Nashville opened the youngster's eyes to how tough it was going to be to make it in country music. She reluctantly heeded her parents' advice and attended a one-year country music programme at South Plains College in Levelland, Texas. "It really taught me about the business," she admits.

Alongside studying, she sang in a college band, avoiding the latest pop-country Urban Cowboy hits in favour of classic country standards. "Whenever we wanted something new to work up, I was constantly bringing in old stuff," she recalls. "I noticed the attention it was getting for me. In East Texas, people would always sing Patsy Cline's Faded Love, but I was just doing so much of it"'

When the year at South Plains was completed, she figured she was ready for Nashville. She enrolled as a sophomore in Belmont University's music programme, and landed an internship at MCA Records. Marriage to fellow aspiring musician Jason Sellers followed, along with a baby, a stint as a stay-at-home mom and a job as a songwriter. All the while, she held out for just the right record deal.

Ironically, she made her breakthrough about the same time her marriage broke up. In the summer of 1996 she signed a deal with Decca Records and was in the studio singing songs of heartbreak that hit close to home. "I definitely think it helped in my delivery of them," she admits. "When considering songs to record I look for lyrics I can believe in. I think that's important when an artist is considering a song: how they can deliver it and make it believable." Before their separation and divorce, Lee Ann and Jason often wrote songs together. A few years ago Ricky Skaggs cut their I Don't Remember Forgettin' and Lee Ann sang vocal harmonies. Am I The Only Thing That You've Done Wrong, on her debut album was another of their co-writes, and the new album features If You're Ever Down In Dallas, a song they completed several years ago. "We don't write together anymore," Womack explains. "I'd just been holding on to it.”

"We still see each other and we are both very supportive of each other's careers and do anything we can to help each other."

The couple share custody of eight-year-old daughter Aubrie. The major problem for Lee Ann these days, with a career that skyrocketed after her second single, The Fool, slowly meandered its way to Number Two, propelling her debut album towards platinum, is juggling a hectic schedule, making it tough to fit everything in. A divorced single mom, seven months pregnant with child number two, who until last year, homeschooled Aubrie.

"I put Aubrie into school this year because of all the pressures," she explains, "although I do still feel like home schooling is the best option if you have the time. But this year I knew I would not have the time, although I may go back to it next year. She's in a great little private school near our house. She's thriving, doing really well, so I'm pleased that all the years we've been together up to this point have really paid off."

Unlike the majority of separated and divorced couples, Lee Ann and Jason have remained on friendly terms, which has been a godsend as Lee Ann's career has eaten up more and more of her time. "Aubrie is number one priority for both of us," she says. “Children are the ones that suffer when their divorced parents can't get along, and if you can't make that sacrifice for your child's sake ... They're the ones who are going to pay for it. And she's paid enough, she doesn't need to pay for our mistakes anymore."

A proud, loving mother, Lee Ann does admit that there is a downside to her career, like being away from her daughter for long stretches and the effect that her success can have on her inquisitive and equally proud child, who just can't get enough of seeing mom on TV and spread across magazines. "She was really wrapped up in it for a while, and different people started to point that out to me," Womack admits. "So this year I've tried to see that she doesn't turn the TV on and see the videos, and that we don't have magazines lying around the house. I'm really focusing on her needs right now."

Lee Ann Womack is one of the few new artists who has broken the barrier with a classic country sound. Her characteristic twang comes with a piercing soprano and an attitude too unsophisticated to hide any emotion. Though basically a contented person from a happy family background, she readily admits that she has trouble with happy songs, and is at a loss to explain why she favours so many sad songs like the co-penned The Man Who Made My Mama Cry.

It's a classic country tear-jerker in which a daughter confronts her long-absent father who deserted his family but now returns, expecting instant and unconditional love. "I got the idea for the song because I know about a lot of people in that situation,” she explains. "I just love those kind of songs, they were what I grew up with. The delivery of those sad songs will probably always work for me. The happy ones I have trouble with."

It's rare when an artist is fresh and traditional at the same time. Womack's East Texas small-town drawl soaks through every song she sings, as she demonstrates that, although you can take the girl out of the country, you can't take the country out of the girl. As strong female artists increasingly lead the way in contemporary country, Lee Ann Womack will be in the forefront of their ranks, becoming the voice of Southern small-town working women, a spokesperson for waitresses, secretaries, nurses and housewives for years to come.