Sly Stone didn’t release much in the way of new music over the last four decades, but the influence of the records he put out between Sly & the Family Stone’s 1967 debut A Whole New Thing and 1982’s Ain’t But the One Way will probably extend for as long as humans have ears. Sly—who passed away on June 9 at the age of 82 in the wake of a recent resurgence boosted by a memoir, a Questlove-directed documentary, and a newly unearthed early live recording—not only changed the game by leading the first notable pop act to include both white and Black and male and female members, but his songs like “Everyday People,” “Stand!,” and “Family Affair” also combined funk, soul, rock, and psychedelia like it had never been fused before, and served it all up with humor, social commentary, and inspiring messages of self- (and collective-) empowerment.
While much of his work (especially 1971’s There’s a Riot Goin’ On and 1973’s Fresh) still sounds vital and relevant today, you can also hear the profound influence of his music and spirit in the work of countless other artists. Here, then, are 10 examples of musicians who were significantly impacted by the man born Sylvester Stewart. Sly, we’re so sorry to see you go, but we’re so grateful for the vast legacy you left behind.
The Beau Brummels, “Laugh, Laugh” (1964)
From 1963 to 1966, Sly served as an in-house producer and arranger for Autumn Records, a small San Francisco label that was distributed nationally by Warner Bros. “He was the guy in San Francisco who knew how to make a record in the studio,” recalled Sal Valentino of San Francisco folk-rockers The Beau Brummels, who cracked the US Top 20 in early 1965 with the Sly-produced “Laugh, Laugh.” The single was not only the first national hit to come out of the burgeoning Bay Area music scene, but it also made an appearance on the popular animated TV series The Flintstones, with a cartoon version of the band (billed as The Beau Brummelstones) performing the song at a Bedrock nightclub. Years before Sly & the Family Stone had a hit of their own, Sly was already exerting his musical influence upon the youth of America.
Love, “7 and 7 Is” (1966)
Though they had a much more folk- and rock-oriented sound than Sly himself would become known for, it’s entirely possible that Love—the multi-racial LA band fronted by the brilliant songwriter Arthur Lee—might not have existed without Sly’s intercession. In a 2017 Facebook post, Love lead guitarist and co-founder Johnny Echols recalled that, before Love got off the ground, he was seriously thinking about giving up music and going to school to become a lawyer. However, “Arthur and I decided to drive to San Francisco for one last fling when fate intervened... Sly Stone, who was a friend of [future Love sax and flute player] Tjay Cantrelli’s asked us to fill in for him at [North Beach nightclub] Big Al’s for the weekend, that weekend gig turned into a month-long commitment, and we never looked back. Was it serendipity, or fate, who knows? For good or bad, I never got around to enrolling in college.” Which, for anyone who loves the first three Love albums, is a very good thing, indeed.
Miles Davis, “One and One” (1972)
Never one to stay in one musical place for too long, legendary jazz trumpeter, composer, and bandleader Miles Davis shocked the jazz world in the early 1970s by gravitating toward an electrified, groove-oriented sound—one which owed more than a little to the music of Sly & the Family Stone. “When I first heard Sly, I almost wore out those first two or three records,” Miles wrote in his 1989 autobiography, and the Sly influence is especially apparent on his 1972 album On the Corner. Widely panned at the time by mainstream jazz critics, the album has since been reappraised as a massively important record that blazed a trail for everything from jazz-funk and experimental jazz to electronica, ambient, and hip-hop.
Herbie Hancock, “Sly” (1973)
Miles Davis wasn’t the only jazz luminary impressed by the work of Sly & the Family Stone. While meditating on the musical impasse he’d found himself at in late 1972, jazz-funk pioneer Herbie Hancock decided to take his band in a grittier and even funkier direction after Sly’s “Thank You (Falettinme Be Mice Elf Agin)” kept popping into his head. The result was 1973’s oft-sampled and -imitated Head Hunters, which even featured a track dedicated to Sly.
Parliament, “Give Up the Funk (Tear the Roof Off the Sucker)” (1975)
Though George Clinton had already been making records for years when Sly first swaggered onto the national scene, the celebratory psych-soul of Family Stone hits like “Dance to the Music” and the mordant humor of their funky tracks like “Don’t Call Me Nigger, Whitey” set the split-personality template for Clinton’s Parliament-Funkadelic empire. By 1976, when this incredible concert clip was filmed in Houston, the P-Funk mothership had become the most important funk force in the galaxy—and the influence of Sly (who would later collaborate with Clinton on several recording projects) on P-Funk’s raucous sound and live performances was unmissable.
Red Hot Chili Peppers, “If You Want Me to Stay” (1985)
By the mid-’80s, Sly’s addictions and erratic behavior had rendered him something of a forgotten man. But George Clinton did his old friend a solid by convincing Red Hot Chili Peppers to record “If You Want Me to Stay”—a standout track from 1973’s Fresh album, and Sly’s last big hit—for their second LP, 1985’s Freaky Styley. Their Clinton-produced version (which also features the good Dr. Funkenstein’s vocal assistance) introduced Sly to a whole new generation of record buyers, and put some much-needed coin in his pocket.
Prince, “Kiss” (1986)
Sly’s influence on Prince was profound, and it didn’t just manifest in the multi-racial and mixed-gender makeup of his band The Revolution, or in the psychedelic finery of his stage outfits. Like Sly, Prince knew how to write a killer pop-soul hook, had no qualms about pulling from a wide variety of musical styles, and was a wizard at creating unusual sonic juxtapositions with multi-layered mixes—talents which are all on glorious aural display in his 1986 hit “Kiss.”
Eazy-E, “Eazy-Duz-It” (1988)
The ascension of hip-hop stoked a commensurate rise in Sly’s stock, as crate diggers began trawling his back-catalog for breaks and other potential samples. According to WhoSampled, Sly & the Family Stone’s records have been sampled over a thousand times since the 1980s, with their 1968 hit “Sing a Simple Song” accounting for nearly half of that number. While a large percentage of those have just zeroed in on the track’s funky drums, Eazy-E’s 1988 jam “Eazy-Duz-It” made excellent use of the song’s horn hook round about the one-minute mark.
OutKast, “B.O.B” (2000)
The classic Sly Stone sound may not have been readily apparent on Stankonia, OutKast’s multi-platinum 2000 album, but his playful-yet-deadly-serious worldview was all over it, with tracks like “B.O.B” and “Gasoline Dreams” taking the temperature of turn-of-century America in the same unflinching way that There’s a Riot Goin’ On captured the turbulence of the early 1970s. And according to André 3000, the modified American flag on the cover of Stankonia was a direct nod to the one on Riot. “That red, black, and white flag inspired the Stankonia album cover,” he explained in the Questlove-directed documentary Sly Lives! (aka The Burden of Black Genius). “To wrap that flag around you is interesting, when you see a Black person do it, because our version of America is different from the rest of the world’s view of America. We’re in an America, but then we’re in a Black America, too. We’re in two different realities.”
Janelle Monáe, “Q.U.E.E.N.” (2013)
Sly’s boundary-pushing funkiness has always felt deeply embedded in Janelle Monáe’s music, but his expansive, coexistence-oriented worldview clearly had a profound influence on her, as well. On the Erykah Badu–assisted “Q.U.E.E.N.” from 2013’s The Electric Lady, Nate Wonder’s twangy bass line is more than a little reminiscent of “Thank You (Falettinme Be Mice Elf Agin),” but the song itself—its title an acronym for “Queer, Untouchables, Emigrants, Excommunicated, and Negroid”—eviscerates societal stereotypes and prejudices with the same incisive glee that Sly wielded in “Everyday People.” Different strokes for different folks, indeed.
