It’s become painfully obvious that we’re running FAR too many In Memoriam columns on Pencil Storm, and even more painfully obvious that the Universe of Rock & Roll has reached a point where that trend is not about to slow down anytime soon. So, my In Memoriam approach from here on out is gonna be personalized stories. You can read all about the obituary info, facts & figures ANYWHERE on this InterWideWeb; here’s my Sly Stone story
It was May 1970, I was a 17-year old senior at a Catholic high school on the West Side of Columbus, Ohio, and the Junior/Senior Prom was coming up. The only problem was, I was dating an adorable sophomore girl named Linda and only juniors & seniors were permitted at the prom. Linda was a sweetheart about the situation, said she’d be fine if I went with my friend Cathy; she just didn’t want me to miss my prom.
I was if-fy on that course of action, I really can’t say I cared anything about Formal Dances, and then salvation struck - it was announced that Sly & The Family Stone were playing Vet’s Memorial in Columbus the same night as the prom. It was a no-brainer for the rock kid I was at the time. (And - truthfully - might still be today. Admittedly, some of us NEVER grow up.) Linda and I would go see Sly and the prom could go hang.
And that’s exactly what we did, and it was great. Sly & the Family Stone - only 9 months removed from their killer Woodstock triumph - were at the height of their powers, drug problems had not yet set in, and it was a tremendous show. The Family Stone’s stage set-up was one I’d never seen before and haven’t seen since - drummer Greg Errico was all the way at the left of the stage, facing sideways toward the band and the other six members (Sly’s brother & sister Freddie and Rose on guitar & auxiliary keyboards, Larry Graham on bass, and Cynthia Robinson & Jerry Martini on trumpet & sax) were spread out evenly across the front of the stage with Sly’s keyboards smack in the middle.
No front-line, no back-line; just seven black & white, male & female musicians standing shoulder to shoulder blowing out a noise I didn’t hear the likes of again until Prince & the Revolution in the 80’s. (And if you think Prince didn’t study/worship at the Altar of Sly, you’d best think again, mofumbo.) It was funk, it was rock, it was gospel, it was psychedelic; it was loud & proud in all the best ways. I can’t really say 14-year-old Linda took in the entire high-energy extravaganza (it was her first rock concert), but she stuck right there with me, and I couldn’t have been been gladder I skipped a white-bread high school prom to bask in the rama-lama of Sly’s rock & roll.
Oh hell, just watch the videos.
Sly, thank you for the rock & roll, and Rest In Peace.
a nice 9-minute medley; “Hot Fun In The Summertime,” “Don’t Call Me Nigger, Whitey” (a tender ballad),
“I Want To Take You Higher,” “Everyday People,” and “Dance To The Music.”
and then things got dark…..Sly, R.I.P.
Ricki C. is 72 years old and has two dresser drawers full of black rock & roll t-shirts, which he wears incessantly. He also has a hand-tooled leather hippie belt from 1972 that still fits. He has congestive heart failure and prostate cancer and KNOWS that all this rock & roll nonsense has to stop someday.
But not yet.