To kick things off, let’s express our appreciation. A big thank you goes out to Sly Stone for sharing his incredible music with us before his passing on Monday at the age of 82. The legacy he leaves behind is vast and enduring, filled with timeless hits like “Stand!”, “Sing a Simple Song”, “Everyday People”, “Dance to the Music”, “Family Affair”, and of course, “Thank You (Falettinme Be Mice Elf Again)”.
Appreciate you, Sly, for crafting the funk anthems of the ’70s and catapulting Prince’s career with that final tune. Thanks to you, Sly, for assembling The Family Stone, a groundbreaking band of musicians and vocalists who hailed from various ethnicities and genders, mirroring the diverse and inclusive spirit of the original Sesame Street cast, shining brightly with the hopeful vision of a color-blind and genre-less future that the 1960s fostered.
And thank you, Sly, falettin me into your life in 2007. Permit me to explain.
I’ve always been deeply fond of the music created by Sylvester Stewart, who was born in 1943. His tunes significantly shaped my early years, resonating profoundly within me. In 1996, when I joined Vanity Fair as a contributing editor, I mustered the nerve to propose writing a profile on this legendary figure, Sly, to the editor Graydon Carter. At that time, Mr. Stone was going through a difficult period. To be honest, it wasn’t clear exactly where he stood, as he had withdrawn from public life following a challenging 70s and 80s marked by substance abuse and idleness, which took away his happiness and zest for life.
Surprisingly, Graydon agreed when I proposed a story that wasn’t usually featured in Vanity Fair. Overjoyed, I sprang into action. I contacted Greg Errico, the original drummer from The Family Stone, who graciously invited me to their Bay Area rehearsal space to watch them jam with fellow band members Freddie Stone (Sly’s brother on guitar) and Jerry Martini (on saxophone). Unfortunately, my attempts to connect with Sly’s manager, Jerry Goldstein, were thwarted. In a bid to persuade him, I reached out to industry peers Lou Adler and Richard Gottehrer for support. Regrettably, their efforts didn’t sway Goldstein.
Over the years, my wife and I expanded our family by two children. As a new millennium began, news reached me that Sly’s youngest sister, a singer called Vet, had persuaded him to perform with her band during the summer of 2007. I quickly contacted Vet, sharing with her my struggles spanning over a decade. She advised me to hurry to Las Vegas to witness her band’s performance at the Flamingo Hotel, as Sly was set to play. Given his history of unreliable performances during his touring career, I asked if she was certain about this.
“All I can say is that I’m his little sister and he’s never lied to me,” she said.
As I stepped into the venue, there was a flash of neon colors and glittery fabrics that caught my eye – it was Sly, sporting an eccentric outfit straight out of the ’70s fashion bin, complete with platform boots, oversized white sunglasses, and sparkling newsboy shorts. The performance was wild and filled with just a handful of songs, but when he crooned a heartfelt, acoustic rendition of “Stand!”, with its inspiring lyrics “In the end you’ll still be you/ One that’s accomplished all the dreams you had“, I found myself captivated. It was clear that, despite any physical or mental transformations he may have undergone, his vocal prowess and musical talent were as strong as ever.
As a die-hard fan, the privilege of my presence was rewarded with his first significant interview in over two decades. Our encounter unfolded within a motorcycle store in Vallejo, California, known as Chopper Guys Biker Products, where he hails from. With a plethora of questions bubbling up, I sought answers. His responses were cryptic, leaving me pondering. When I inquired about his activities over the years and if he was tuned into shows like Seinfeld and American Idol like everyone else, he responded enigmatically, “I’ve done all that. I lead a relatively ordinary life most of the time. However, it’s probably more akin to Sly Stone’s lifestyle. It’s likely…it’s likely not your typical routine.
The anticipated resurgence following my Vanity Fair profile didn’t happen for him; he was still grappling with drug and business problems. However, there has been progress since then – he managed to overcome his addiction. Recently, Vet sent me a picture of Sly happily cradling a grandchild in his arms. In Questlove’s recent documentary, “Sly Lives! (also known as The Burden of Black Genius)”, Novena, his younger daughter, chuckles at the unexpected turn of events that she frequently witnesses now: “He’s just like… an ordinary old Black man.
He survived to become a symbol of disillusionment. Sly is frequently admired as an emblem for how the idealism of 1960s America transformed into self-absorption, pessimism, and negative energy. I can’t help but recall the title character’s criticism of The Dude in “The Big Lebowski”: “Your revolution has ended, Mr. Lebowski. My condolences. The losers have lost!
In the end, it was Sly who triumphed. He discovered a redeeming joy that continues to echo within him. His musical legacy remains lively and dynamic, surpassing the conditions of its creation and whatever followed. Once more, Sly, I salute you.
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2025-06-10 04:25