What The Critics Say
There's always been a lot of speculation about Ain't But the One Way. It was the last in a series of comeback albums attempted by an increasingly dispirited Sly Stone and ended up being his swan song. On the surface, it's a relatively poor Sly & the Family Stone album, one that only dedicated fans, completists, and the historically curious will want to seek out, all the more so because it's a tough one to find (it's been out of print for years). So if you're just a casual Sly listener, steer clear! But if you do fall into that category of Sly fanatics curious about those hazy final days before the funk legend descended into semi-obscurity, you'll find some insight here if you put the album into its proper context. To backtrack for a moment and frame that context, remember that Sly had been struggling, both commercially and creatively, for years. Following a long dry spell, he left Epic and moved to Warner Brothers at the end of the '70s, resulting in Back on the Right Track (1979). That album didn't prove to be the comeback it was planned to be, and Sly then drifted toward Warner labelmate George Clinton, with whom he would plan his next comeback. If you dig into the credits of P-Funk songs of this early-'80s era such as "Funk Gets Stronger" (from Electric Spanking of War Babies, 1981) and "Hydraulic Pump" (Urban Dancefloor Guerillas, 1983), you'll note some co-writing credits for Sly. And if you attended some P-Funk concerts back then, you may have seen him open for Clinton and company. But when it came time to record Ain't But the One Way, problems arose. For one, Clinton had a serious falling out with Warner Brothers. Secondly, urban legend says Sly simply disappeared after half-recording these songs around 1980 or so, leaving the album in an uncompleted state for a while. Whatever the truth, Clinton's presence is indeed lacking here on Ain't But the One Way (despite evidence of a demo version of "Who in the Funk Do You Think You Are" later arising on the first volume of the odds-and-ends George Clinton's Family Series), and Warner did bring in producer Stewart Levine (Jazz Crusaders, Simply Red) to pull the album together for release. (Another urban legend claims that the cover photo of Sly dates back to Back on the Right Track, further proof perhaps that Sly was AWOL.) The resulting album confirms such speculation: in general, the songs are sketchy funk vamps along the lines of what Clinton and company were recording around that time, and the innumerable studio musicians and the overall stitched-together feel of the album do suggest Levine earned his production paycheck. In any event, there are some glimmers of Sly's genius here, albeit momentary glimmers. "Ha Ha, Hee Hee" is a gem -- a gentle ballad à la "Runnin' Away" with curiously cryptic lyrics -- while "Who in the Funk Do You Think You Are" stands out with a bracing guitar riff, if not much else too noteworthy going for it. Elsewhere, "High, Y'All" is an "I Wanna Take You Higher" rewrite, "Sylvester" is a spooky a cappella minute, "L.O.V.I.N.U." is a perky pop song, and yes, "You Really Got Me" is a run-through of the Kinks classic. Taken together, these songs amount to less than a solid album, let alone a good one, but as latter-day leftovers, they're fairly interesting glimpses into Sly's hazy descent into coked-out infamy. And as such, they're a little sad. ~ Jason Birchmeier, All Music Guide
'Back on the Right Track'
What The Critics Say
By the late '70s, Sly Stone had been so thoroughly written off as a has-been that few listeners checked out Back on the Right Track. Nor have listeners been inspired to rediscover the album, since his late-'60s/early-'70s classics cast such a huge shadow over his subsequent work. It comes as somewhat of a surprise, then, to find the basic Stone soul/rock/funk foundation still firmly in place here. There were two problems: the foundation didn't make any notable advancements on the territory he'd already mapped out by the early '70s, and the songs themselves weren't that special, sounding more like basic vamps or promising scraps than fully baked ideas. Judged solely on its own terms, it's actually a respectable slice of funk; it's only when stacked against Stone's other works that the disappointment becomes intense. ~ Richie Unterberger, All Music Guide
'Heard Ya Missed Me, Well I'm Back'
What The Critics Say
Heard Ya Missed Me, Well I'm Back, Sly Stone's ninth album for Epic, features a reunited Sly & the Family Stone. Sly's previous album, the funk-filled High on You (1975), had been a solo effort. The sentiment here sure seems inviting -- Sly optimistically reuniting with his group in an aim to recapture the magic of his late-'60s prime -- yet the result is sadly disappointing. Rather than revisit the funk of High on You or the psychedelic pop/rock of late-'60s Sly & the Family Stone, Heard Ya Missed Me, Well I'm Back seems modeled after the Philly soul sound of the time. This in itself is fine -- this was 1976, after all, and the Family Stone seemed well-suited for the horn- and chorus-filled style of Philly soul, which was then in vogue -- and it certainly makes for a curious entry in the group's catalog. However, neither the songs nor the music here is especially engaging beyond the level of curiosity. The marketplace didn't respond well to Heard Ya Missed Me, Well I'm Back, and it's fairly easy to hear why -- nothing here sticks, even if the music is pleasant enough and even if Sly is in an optimistic mood. Sly & the Family Stone may be back here, as the title proclaims, but this isn't the same band spiritually or musically. One suspects Epic may have pushed Sly in the Philly soul direction, given the label's treatment of the Jackson 5 on Goin' Places (1977). After all, the label didn't care enough about Sly to keep him around for long; following the commercial failure of Heard Ya Missed Me, Well I'm Back, he was dropped from his contract after only two albums. ~ Jason Birchmeier, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
The first album attributed to Sly Stone rather than Sly & the Family Stone, High on You didn't exactly resurrect the troubled artist's sinking career, but it does remain one of the better straight-up funk albums of the '70s. Released during the same mid-'70s era that spawned vibrant funk albums such as the Commodores' Machine Gun, Parliament's Up for the Down Stroke, and the Ohio Players' Skin Tight, along with the first Graham Central Station albums, High on You seems like a genre exercise for Sly -- rather than trailblazing new sounds like he did five years earlier, he's now embracing the sound of the times. Still, even though Sly isn't doing anything especially novel here, he performs an impressive series of succinct, well-crafted funk songs with plenty of pop accessibility. Indeed, High on You has the makings of a comeback album. It's worth noting that the album's title track was an impressive single, peaking at number three on the R&B chart and even making an appearance on the pop chart -- though fairly obscure nowadays, "High on You," remains one of Sly's career highlights. Elsewhere, "Crossword Puzzle" stands out with its distinct horn hook and numerous background vocals (it's become most famous for being sampled by De La Soul on 3 Feet High and Rising), while the gentle "That's Lovin' You," the album's sole ballad, cools down the proceedings for a moment. After these first three highlights, the album drops off a little, though the funk level remains well in the red. In fact, the upbeat nature of the album is perhaps its most satisfying attribute, given the downcast mood of Sly's previous few albums. High on You doesn't measure up to the best Sly & the Family Stone albums of the late '60s and early '70s, granted, but it's a step up in quality from Small Talk and certainly all that would follow. Long written off and long out of print, High on You is an underrated album that deserves re-evaluation. ~ Jason Birchmeier, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
A new bass player and drummer signaled a toned-down Sly & the Family Stone sound. Partially in keeping with changes in much of popular music in the early '70s, and maybe the result of marriage and a child, Sly became more introspective, quieter, and calmer, even employing a string section on various cuts. A less exhilarating album than earlier efforts, there is still much of merit here, including the Top Ten R&B hit "Time for Livin'." ~ Rob Bowman, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Fresh expands and brightens the slow grooves of There's a Riot Goin' On, turning them, for the most part, into friendly, welcoming rhythms. There are still traces of the narcotic haze of Riot, particularly on the brilliant, crawling inversion of "Que Sera, Sera," yet this never feels like an invitation into a junkie's lair. Still, this isn't necessarily lighter than Riot -- in fact, his social commentary is more explicit, and while the music doesn't telegraph his resignation the way Riot did, it comes from the same source. So, Fresh winds up more varied, musically and lyrically, which may not make it as unified, but it does result in more traditional funk that certainly is appealing in its own right. Besides, this isn't conventional funk -- it's eccentric, where even concise catchy tunes like "If You Want Me to Stay" seem as elastic as the opener, "In Time." That's the album's ultimate charm -- it finds Sly precisely at the point where he's balancing funk and pop, about to fall into the brink, but creating an utterly individual album that wound up being his last masterwork and one of the great funk albums of its era. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
It's easy to write off There's a Riot Goin' On as one of two things -- Sly Stone's disgusted social commentary or the beginning of his slow descent into addiction. It's both of these things, of course, but pigeonholing it as either winds up dismissing the album as a whole, since it is so bloody hard to categorize. What's certain is that Riot is unlike any of Sly & the Family Stone's other albums, stripped of the effervescence that flowed through even such politically aware records as Stand! This is idealism soured, as hope is slowly replaced by cynicism, joy by skepticism, enthusiasm by weariness, sex by pornography, thrills by narcotics. Joy isn't entirely gone -- it creeps through the cracks every once and awhile and, more disturbing, Sly revels in his stoned decadence. What makes Riot so remarkable is that it's hard not to get drawn in with him, as you're seduced by the narcotic grooves, seductive vocals slurs, leering electric pianos, and crawling guitars. As the themes surface, it's hard not to nod in agreement, but it's a junkie nod, induced by the comforting coma of the music. And damn if this music isn't funk at its deepest and most impenetrable -- this is dense music, nearly impenetrable, but not from its deep grooves, but its utter weariness. Sly's songwriting remains remarkably sharp, but only when he wants to write -- the foreboding opener "Luv N' Haight," the scarily resigned "Family Affair," the cracked cynical blues "Time," and "(You Caught Me) Smilin'." Ultimately, the music is the message, and while it's dark music, it's not alienating -- it's seductive despair, and that's the scariest thing about it. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Sly & the Family Stone's debut album is more restrained and not nearly as funky or psychedelic as their subsequent efforts, owing far more to traditional soul arrangements. These aren't that traditional, though; Sly is already using goofier and/or more thoughtful lyrics than the soul norm, and taking some cues from rock in his adventurous and unexpected song construction. The Family Stone, similarly, aren't as innovative as they would shortly become, but are already a tight unit, particularly in the interplay between lead and backup vocals and the sharp horn riffs. [The CD reissue adds a previously unissued track, "What Would I Do."] ~ Richie Unterberger, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Stand! is the pinnacle of Sly & the Family Stone's early work, a record that represents a culmination of the group's musical vision and accomplishment. Life hinted at this record's boundless enthusiasm and blurred stylistic boundaries, yet everything simply gels here, resulting in no separation between the astounding funk, effervescent irresistible melodies, psychedelicized guitars, and deep rhythms. Add to this a sharpened sense of pop songcraft, elastic band interplay, and a flowering of Sly's social consciousness, and the result is utterly stunning. Yes, the jams ("Don't Call Me Nigger, Whitey," "Sex Machine") wind up meandering ever so slightly, but they're surrounded by utter brilliance, from the rousing call to arms of "Stand!" to the unification anthem "Everyday People" to the unstoppable "I Want to Take You Higher." All of it sounds like the Family Stone, thanks not just to the communal lead vocals but to the brilliant interplay, but each track is distinct, emphasizing a different side of their musical personality. As a result, Stand! winds up infectious and informative, invigorating and thought-provoking -- stimulating in every sense of the word. Few records of its time touched it, and Sly topped it only by offering its opposite the next time out. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Just a matter of months after Dance to the Music, Sly & the Family Stone turned around and delivered Life, a record that leapfrogged over its predecessor in terms of accomplishment and achievement. The most noteworthy difference is the heavier reliance on psychedelics and fuzz guitars, plus a sharpening of songcraft that extends to even throwaways like "Chicken." As it turned out, Life didn't have any hits -- the double A-sided single "Life"/"M'Lady" barely cracked the Top 100 -- yet this feels considerably more song-oriented than its predecessor, as each track is a concise slice of tightly wound dance-funk. All the more impressive is that the group is able to strut their stuff within this context, trading off vocals and blending into an unstoppable force where it's impossible to separate the instruments, even as they solo. The songwriting might still be perfunctory or derivative in spots -- listen to how they appropriate "Eleanor Rigby" on "Plastic Jim" -- but what's impressive is how even the borrowed or recycled moments sound fresh in context. And then there are the cuts that work on their own, whether it's the aforementioned double-sided single, "Fun," "Dynamite!," or several other cuts here -- these are brilliant, intoxicating slices of funk-pop that get by as much on sound as song, and they're hard to resist. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
