In a few short years, Questlove has established himself as the leading chronicler of modern Black music. The Roots drummer released Summer of Soul (…or, When the Revolution Could Not Be Televised) in 2021 and swept all major awards, including the Oscar for Best Documentary Feature and the Grammy for Best Music Film.
One of the most memorable moments from Summer of Soul comes when a festival attendee recalls the sensational performance – after the requisite late arrival – of Sly and the Family Stone.
Questlove’s latest film shifts the focus entirely to Sly. In Sly Lives! (aka The Burden of Black Genius), the filmmaker uses extensive interviews and archival footage to begin to unravel one of the most enigmatic figures of modern music – an artist whose impact remains enormous even if his name is not always remembered.
Questlove delivers a mixed bag of excellence in documentary about Sly Stone
Sylvester Stewart (aka Sly Stone) was born in Texas but grew up in the Bay area. His extraordinary musical gifts were apparent early on. After a teaser opening that poses one of the film’s central questions – “What is Black genius?” – Questlove runs through those early years in which Sly’s interest in all types of music becomes clear.
He was performing as a part of racially integrated bands from his adolescent years and, by the time he was in his early twenties, was already an established figure in the local music community.
Sly was a DJ at San Fran soul station, KSOL. In addition to soul music, he played pop and rock by white artists, and though that sense of inclusion could have been alienating, Sly’s natural charm and talent made most people see things his way.
More importantly, he began working as a record producer. He helped launch seminal San Francisco bands like the Beau Brummels and The Great Society. In the movie, artists who were around at the time still express awe at their ability to nurture bands and songs.
In the same way a great athlete sees the game at a different pace, Sly heard music on a different level. He knew how to create sounds that people wanted to hear. After doing that for others for a few years in the mid-‘60s, he decided it was time to do it for himself.
The original Sly and the Family Stone was comprised of six musicians, along with a group of background singers. Sly and his brother Freddie handled keyboards and guitars. Larry Graham was on bass. There was a woman – Cynthia Robinson – playing trumpet. And two white guys – Gregg Errico and Jerry Martini (who Sly gives credit for actually starting the band) – on drums and sax, respectively.
One of the Stewart sisters, Vet, was part of a backing vocal trio. By the time of the second album, the other sister, Rose, would complete the original lineup on electric piano.
Sly may have been the lead vocalist, but they all sang. In the earliest days of Sly and the Family Stone, everyone sang. That was one of the hallmarks of the group.
Questlove tells the story of the band in part by deconstructing their hit records. He begins with “Dance to the Music,” the sensational progressive soul tune that quite literally introduced the band to the world. Sly – ever the producer – allows each artist to have an “entry,” saying who they are and explaining how their part of the song helps build the whole.
The movie similarly examines how subsequent songs like “Stand,” “I Want to Take You Higher,” “Hot Fun in the Summertime,” and “Thank You (Falettinme Be Mice Elf Agin)” were assembled, and how they revealed an artist very much in tune with his time. You can see funk music being born throughout this section of the movie. If you need further evidence, Questlove has extensive interview material from George Clinton, one of the fathers of funk, verifying the point.
The film also offers a wealth of input from others who were influenced by Sly. D’Angelo, whose 2014 Black Messiah album is often compared to Sly’s revolutionary 1971 album There’s a Riot Goin’ On, speaks reverently of that influence. So do producers and performers like Jimmy Jam, Nile Rodgers, Vernon Reid, Andre 3000, and Q Tip. It is almost impossible to look at modern soul and soul-based hip-hop without seeing Sly Stone. It is completely impossible to look at funk without doing so.
At times, Questlove makes very direct links – “I Want to Take You Higher” helping to spawn Prince, “Thank You…” supplying the guitar sample for Janet Jackson’s “Rhythm Nation.” But the film suggests that Sly’s impact went well beyond such specifics. He opened doors to all musicians into all types of music. It was not an easy position to take. And it may have taken its toll on the artist behind it all.
One of the most jarring moments in the film comes when drummer Greg Errico decides to leave the band before the 1971 album There’s a Riot Goin’ On. Musically, Sly was as innovative as ever. The first single after Errico’s departure, “Family Affair,” became the first song to top the Billboard charts while using a drum machine.
But there’s the definite suggestion in the movie that the departure had major psychological implications. As several of the interviewees say, no one ever thought any of them would leave the family.
A little while later, Larry Graham departed under more acrimonious circumstances. On There’s a Riot Goin’ On and 1973’s Fresh, Sly was taking on more and more of the musicianship. What had once been a family was morphing into a solo act.
Questlove’s thesis, which is announced in the film’s subtitle, concerns the extra pressures that fall onto a Black artist when he becomes very successful. He opens the movie with the question of Black genius and returns to it at the end, suggesting that fear of success is often greater than fear of failure. Success leads to increased attention.
That, in turn, restricts artistic freedom. As one of the interview subjects points out, a white artist like David Bowie was permitted the room to change and grow. If one experiment didn’t work, he had the space to try something different.
The moment Sly shifted from the happy inclusiveness of “Everyday People” to the real-world sludge of “Family Affair,” a lot of people started to look at him with suspicion.
The movie is filled with a great many riches. Tiny bits of trivia like a Sly and Jimi Hendrix show at the Fillmore East costing $7.50 help paint a vivid picture of the era. And fortunately, most of the original Family were available and willing to sit for interviews. It does your heart good to see Larry Graham – who did not always get along with Sly – express his love and admiration.
This isn’t to say there are not some holes in the story. Time constraints may have prevented Questlove from diving more deeply into more songs, but the omissions of “Thank You For Talking to Me, Africa” from There’s a Riot… and his final great single “If You Want Me To Stay” from Fresh are two of the most noticeable gaps.
It is understandable that Questlove didn’t want to spend much time on Sly’s downfall. To be sure, he references drug abuse and the way new artists eventually passed him by. Though the movie focuses more on Sly the artist than on Sly the man, there are touching – at times heartbreaking – moments from his children. His daughter tells a story that is simultaneously troubling and hilarious about what it was like to have a father who was often high.
The biggest and most obvious hole is the absence of Sly today. His voice is constant throughout the film, drawn from many archival interviews from the 1970s. There is a fascinating clip from a Dick Cavett interview which reveals a great deal about both men in just a few seconds.
But the title of the movie is not merely figurative. Sylvester Stewart does, in fact, live. Questlove and his co-producers have explained outside the movie that his current physical and mental state did not allow for an interview. That is entirely understandable. It should have been briefly and tastefully addressed within the film itself. Failing to do so simply leaves unnecessary questions.
Those complaints are minor compared to the wealth of enlightening and entertaining material the films reveal. Sly always was both enlightening and entertaining. Questlove makes a reasonable case regarding his thesis about the pressures of Black genius. Whether Sly’s unique personality was equally responsible for his eventual decline is a topic for further conversation. For now, Sly’s place among the pantheon has been reaffirmed, and that is to be praised.
Sly Lives! (aka The Burden of Black Genius) is streaming now on Hulu.