Sly Stone Was the Voice of Hope in Times of Despair. We Need His Music Now More Than Ever.

One last time: “ALL THE SQUARES, GO HOME!”

From People:

“It is with profound sadness that we announce the passing of our beloved dad, Sly Stone of Sly and the Family Stone,” his family said in a statement on Monday, June 9. “After a prolonged battle with COPD and other underlying health issues, Sly passed away peacefully, surrounded by his three children, his closest friend, and his extended family. While we mourn his absence, we take solace in knowing that his extraordinary musical legacy will continue to resonate and inspire for generations to come.”

The statement continued, “Sly was a monumental figure, a groundbreaking innovator, and a true pioneer who redefined the landscape of pop, funk, and rock music. His iconic songs have left an indelible mark on the world, and his influence remains undeniable. In a testament to his enduring creative spirit, Sly recently completed the screenplay for his life story, a project we are eager to share with the world in due course, which follows a memoir published in 2024.”

He was the voice of optimism in a pessimistic time. He was the voice of hope at a time of despair. He told us we could make it if we tried because everybody was a star. He warned us that the beat was nitty-gritty, and that the sound was in our cities too. In 1969, he didn’t necessarily mean the sound of music. He was the voice of American promise at a time when America was reneging from the very top. And, at the last, he gave us a bit of wisdom to dance to. Listen up, youngsters, out there in the street at another perilous time.

Stand, they will try to make you crawlAnd they know what you’re sayin’ makes sense at allStand, don’t you know that you are free

Well, at least in your mind if you want to be

And he was one seriously funky guy. I mean it. He made the P-Funk gang sound like Air Supply, and P-Funk remains hot to this day. They went on at 3:30 in the morning at Woodstock and blew up the joint. Carlos Santana said the band was the “peak of the festival.” They were the living embodiment of Emma Goldman’s statement of purpose in her autobiography:

At the dances I was one of the most untiring and gayest. One evening a cousin of Sasha [Alexander Berkman, Goldman’s lover], a young boy, took me aside. With a grave face, as if he were about to announce the death of a dear comrade, he whispered to me that it did not behoove an agitator to dance. … My frivolity would only hurl the Cause.

I grew furious at the impudent interference of the boy. I told him to mind his own business, I was tired of having the Cause constantly thrown into my face. I did not believe that a Cause which stood for a beautiful ideal, for anarchism, for release and freedom from conventions and prejudice, should demand the denial of life and joy. ... If it meant that, I did not want it.

But he couldn’t keep it up. Dreams die. Hope exhausts itself. Promises go unfulfilled until people hate them for having existed in the first place. He couldn’t keep up with the demands and the burdens and the drugs that finally took hold. He vanished for decades. Over the past couple of years, though, Questlove has largely rehabilitated Sly’s history—both through the video of his electric set in Harlem featured in the drummer’s Summer of Soul and then in his documentary Sly Lives! (aka The Burden of Black Genius). Sly wrote a well-received memoir, and there is talk of a biopic that he will not be around to see. People find his life puzzling. The answer, always, is in the groove and in, ooh, them summer days.