Sly and the Family Stone — Their Bizarrely Eternal Relevance

Around 2004, I learned that Sly and the Family Stone’s original horn section — Cynthia Robinson (trumpet) and Jerry Martini (sax) — were both living in the same town I lived in, Sacramento, California (where both had also grown up). I had fallen hard for the “Anthology” album in college, about 10 years prior. I decided to track down Robinson and Martini, just for the hell of it.

I somehow found Robinson’s number in the white pages, and cold called her, asking if I might be able to interview her (there was no publication plan — it was just an excuse to meet a legend). She was very friendly, but declined because of the illness of a family member that was preoccupying her.

I actually got to see Martini playing in a cover band at the Red Lion Inn. It was strange seeing one of the best sax players in music history playing backup to a cover band — a quality cover band, but . . . Martini was brilliant from start to finish. It was THAT SOUND, just playing on the wrong songs. I didn’t talk to Martini because I was star struck, but the lead singer told me he still couldn’t believe that he had gotten Martini to be in his band, and that Martini was a truly good soul. Indeed, his goodness beamed from the stage.

I am extremely lucky to have had any proximity to members of Sly and the Family Stone, because they created music that occupies its own place in the musical stratosphere, and somehow still demands to be heard. They were a band where, when listening to them, your brain gets dizzy switching between admiring the individual contributions and the organic whole.

No musical family has ever been so up front about its closeness. You would be hard pressed to know which of the members were actual blood relatives if you didn’t look at the credits. The Stewarts/Stones — Sly, Rose, Freddie, and Vet (aka Little Sister), from Vallejo (!) — you knew that they had been singing together since they were kids, because they were reading each other’s minds on every track. But there was a perfect meld with the others — bassist/vocalist Larry Graham, drummer Greg Errico, and Robinson and Martini, in its classic incarnation. Each knew when to take and when to yield the spotlight. It was as mechanically complex as soul music could get without being the slightest bit artificial. It was uncannily intertwined, but never messy or overproduced.

What makes the band so relevant now is that they showed that the human race derives its greatest power from love and commonality. Their music is so sincere that it never becomes contrived. To enjoy this band, you don’t have to know how many popular songs have sampled this band, and you don’t have to know that their music inspired songs in every genre, from Joe Walsh’s “Rocky Mountain Way” (listen to Sly’s “Sex Machine”) to every Blaxploitation song (listen to Sly’s “Underdog”) to Al Green (listen to Sly’s “I Cannot Make It”) to Barry White (Graham’s thunderous voice) to every song that utilized slap bass (Graham’s exquisitely powerful digits) to trip hop (listen to Sly’s “Trip To Your Heart”) to Bowie (compare the final minute of Sly’s “Dance To The Medley” with the final minute of “Space Oddity”) to the Beatles (compare Sly’s “Ride the Rhythm” to “The End”). In all seriousness, how could this band really have ever existed? The universal rule of entropy has its very notable exceptions.

This is the only band that is making me feel fully human these days. They transcended every category to become their own category, which every person on earth can find some kinship with.

It’s painful to read about what happened to Sly since the band’s heyday. His ability to crystalize insight and empathy seems to have cannibalized his soul. This may be a cautionary tale for anyone attempting to investigate and embody radical humanism or egalitarianism through art. Such values have merit, but they are not necessarily benign. They are fraught with pitfalls, because we can never fully escape our egos and ids in our yearning to commune with the universe of common souls.

That said, Sly and his musical family know exactly how to invite us on a path that is irresistible. They didn’t have all the answers, but I don’t think they ever claimed to. They said that the act of joining was the first step to a new consciousness. Anyone who still cares to join may do so.