“Stand, you’ve been sitting much too long / There’s a permanent crease in your right and wrong” – “Stand!” (1969)
This one hit hard. The news of Sly Stone’s passing on June 9th was a gut punch. The cynic in me was surprised that he lasted as long as he did. The music lover in me knows just because his physical body no longer roams the earth with us, his legacy is everlasting.
I grew up in a household where Motown and Stax got the top billing, while Miles Davis, Frank Sinatra and Billie Holiday made frequent guest appearances. One day, Sly and the Family Stone’s Stand! (1969) album made its way into our apartment. I was mesmerized by the album cover because it was collage of unknown faces and I couldn’t wait to hear what this “Family Stone” sounded like.
The three second drumroll on the title track gave you little time to prepare yourself for what was about to happen. It was like the opening credits to a movie. You bob your head along to the music, then at 2:17, it shifts into what appears to be a new song. To this day, it’s one of the best abrupt changes in any song I’ve heard. I can’t think of another one on the spot. Its presence in the track is a way of saying, “Brace yourselves, we’re about to blow your mind.”
The next track, “Don’t Call Me N****r, Whitey” went over the head of four-year old Terry. The N-word was just a term of endearment tossed around by family members from time to time. Two years later, when a white classmate directed it at me, that shit hit differently. I listened to the song again and had a conversation with my mother about the incident. That told me everything I needed to know.
After listening to the album, I had to find out more about Sly & The Family Stone. I recall being completely dumbfounded and amazed the first time I saw them on TV; their act was unlike anything I’d ever witnessed before. A band with a diverse gender and racial makeup, playing multiple instruments, was unheard of. To my knowledge, Booker T. & the MGs were the only racially integrated band at the time, and the only reason I knew that was their album cover.
Sly & The Family Stone were as unique and rare as unicorns. Their music was innovative and their stage presence electric; there was no one else quite like them. When you heard them, you had no choice but to move your feet. If you walked around and asked ten people what kind of music Sly & the Family Stone played, you would get four or five different answers.
Sly Stone was the one artist responsible for changing my musical palate at a young age. His music told me I had options and it was my duty to explore. The songs meant different things to all types of people. You heard them on rock and R&B stations, a distinction not many artists could claim.
Historically, the music industry always had a penchant for segregating black and white artists, but you couldn’t put Sly & the Family Stone in just one box. Their music led me to other places. As a kid, I had a habit of going up and down the radio dial in search of songs that would make me stop and listen. On one of those days, I tuned to WNEW-FM and they played “Thank You (Falettinme Be Mice Elf Agin).” I was preoccupied either reading a comic book or organizing my baseball cards, so my incessant dial turning ceased for the moment. That’s when I discovered “Roundabout” by Yes. Thanks, Sly.
I could sit here and give you his discography in chronological order, but Sly Stone was much more than that. He was a mood, a feeling. Every summer of mine since the age of six included multiple plays of “Hot Fun In The Summertime.” Every family gathering is not without “Family Affair” on an endless loop in my head. Who else can take Doris Day’s “Que Sera, Sera (Whatever Will Be, Will Be)” and turn it into some funky shit?
Sly was more than his issues with substance abuse. He was flawed. Despite a musical legacy that would suggest otherwise, he was human. Occasionally, we tend to write people off who have drug problems. With Sly, for decades he would give us promises that there was new material coming and then nothing. The sometimes deadly combination of genius and hope can leave you disappointed and wanting.
Questlove’s brilliant 2025 documentary Sly Lives! (aka the Burden of Black Genius) explores the highs and lows of his career and serves as a tribute to his ongoing influence. For us old heads, it’s revisiting a friend you haven’t seen in a while. For those not too familiar with Sly, it’s a chance to connect some dots.
Sly was the blueprint that others read and built from. The link to Prince is clear. Would we have a Lenny Kravitz or a D’Angelo without Prince? As long as his musical children and grandchildren carry on, Sly will always be with us.
Listen: