Thankful n' Thoughtfull: The Sly Stone Dedicated Chronological Listening Thread

Expanded from zero seconds to four seconds (of silence) on the latest remaster!

110. Sly & the Family Stone - Brave & Strong (There's a Riot Goin' On, 1971)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DD7443z6Xog
Released as a the b-side to the album's second single "Runnin' Away". Only the second song on the album to feature Martini and Robinson's horns, it also sounds like Errico, Graham and Freddie contributed. And while it bears some of the hallmarks of the original septet's previous work, these are subverted by Sly's dominance on the track (he again takes the sole vocal), his production and arrangement choices, and the song's slippery structure.

Errico and the Rhythm King are once again symbiotically bound together, right from the opening bars. Errico's accompaniment, which sounds like it's comprised of two separate tracks, is primarily on the top of the kit, all hi-hat 16th notes and snare accents, the low end of the kick drum almost entirely obscured. The beat clatters, skittering around the rhythm restlessly, occasionally settling on heavy quarter notes on the hi-hat just to keep time through the turnarounds.

Martini and Robinson are heavily featured, but interestingly they were never granted (or perhaps not interested in, or capable of) the improvisatory freedom often accorded the guitars and keyboards on "Riot". As ever, their parts are carefully composed and delivered either in unison or with tight harmonies; no exploratory solos or free blowing here. For this track they stick to a countermelody in the verses, the emphasis is on quick staccato bursts and rapid crescendos, their rising and falling volume a mirror of Sly's own singing, keyboard playing, and mixing in general.

The arrangement is incredibly cluttered. here's two wah wah farfisa tracks, an electric piano, a stingingly clean electric guitar track that definitely sounds like Freddie's rhythm style, and, most prominently, a driving bassline. And in the backgound, all the way through the song, are fragments of track bleed and ghost signals from the horns and keyboards. Whether this is by design or carelessness is impossible to say; it does give the track a dizzying level of detail, especially with all the stereo panning, every crack and corner of the frame is filled with dodging, overlapping lines. All of the instruments pop in and out from bar to bar, emphasizing different beats, the keyboards in particular constantly shifting between keeping straight time, swelling chords and rolling fills. The bass is really what holds everything together, providing the bottom end lacking in the drums and also leading all the changes.

And the changes here are very unusual. The basic building block of the song is an 8-bar verse built around a one chord vamp, but what happens at the end of that verse is different every single time. The first 8-bar verse is followed by a 4-bar turnaround; the second verse has the original 4-bar turnaround that is then extended by an additional, different 4-bar turnaround; the third verse also has the original 4-bar turnaround, but then extends that with yet another, different, 6-bar turnaround; the fourth verse is actually 12 bars and concludes with still another entirely different 4-bar turnaround that is repeated twice; and then the song returns to the basic vamp that carries on through the fade-out. Such a structure makes it seem like Sly may have been making this up as he went along, just playing along with the Rhythm King on keyboards and then overdubbing everything else later. It definitely sounds at various points like not all the players know where the song is going, and at times other elements are punched out to let the bass and keyboards carry through.

Sly's vocal and lyrics are similar to "Luv n' Haight", the titular refrain interspersed with a host of shouts, slurred lines, and ad-libs. The lyrics are fragmentary, scattered, but generally appear to address Sly's common theme of persistence in the face of adversity. Some of the lines seem deliberately obscure or part of some weird in-joke ("before me was a cowboy star / Indians / and there you are"?), others incomplete ("When you walk / know where you're walking / when you talk...") The overall effect augments the track's splintered sonics, Sly soldiering on through a house of cracked mirrors.

really can't thank you enough for this thread - excited each time i see a post and def inspired to (when can find the time) do a deep listen with this in hand

Loving and appreciating this work thank you. “Poet” is one of my favourite songs of all time.

111. Sly & the Family Stone - (You Caught Me) Smilin' (There's a Riot Goin' On, 1971)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cfljDrx9Tho
The third single from the album, but also the lowest charting, reaching only 42 on the pop chart and 21 on the R&B chart, and it starts with a head fake. A curiously harmonized guitar, piano and organ lick is abruptly cut in in the middle of the bar and then disappears (never to return), leaving Errico a few beats to establish a straightforward, mid-tempo 4/4 rhythm. What follows is an alternately eerily pretty and clangorously funky tune that bears the hallmarks of both Sly's still-potent compositional chops and the original septet's incredible dexterity. Really this almost sounds like was written earlier - it bears some harmonic and structural similarities to some of the tracks from '69 - and then re-worked extensively in the studio; but this is just speculation.

The verses open with the titular refrain, sung over a wistful descending chord progression, led by the electric piano, that is all major and minor 7ths at first but then pivots to dominant 7ths for the last two lines. This pattern repeats twice before cutting over to an instrumental break that bounces up half a step, highlighted by a horn crescendo and dense polyrhythmic playing that vaguely resembles "You Can Make It If You Try". The entire sequence repeats twice before fading out. This strict A-section/B-section kind of structure was a songwriting tactic Sly had often drawn on in the past; it's something of an outlier on this album. The mix is dry, nothing has any reverb, but the way individual instruments are brought in and out throughout the song are evidence of some heavy editing on Sly's part.

Moreso than a lot of other tracks on "Riot", this also sounds closer to the work of the original septet. The pitter-patter of Errico's drums is tight and nimble, splashing out on the refrains and snapping back into focus with clattering fills at the end of each section. Way in the background there's an intermittently audible metronome or drum machine click, but Errico is the percussive center. The keyboards are the by now familiar combo of electric piano and wah wah clavinet (likely Rose on the former and Sly on the latter). There's at least three guitar tracks, and Freddie's stylistic tics are evident in the popped riffs and chunky chords. The bass, per Robinson's recollection and rather surprisingly, is played by Sly rather than Graham, although it doesn't seem very far off from what Larry would have come up with if he hadn't shown up for the session a week and a half late; once again it's mixed way out front, providing a remarkable amount of drive and rhythmic invention, swerving between slapping and popping and then some rather gently slid notes for the refrains. The breaks are a dramatic shift from the relaxed feel of the verses (witness that lazily descending clavinet line); the guitars and clavinet become harsher and choppier as they come to the fore and suddenly the track is swarming and sputtering, particularly the second time around when the guitars also go for the wah wah pedal. The juxtaposition of the two sections is obviously the point, yet another instance of Sly's penchant for highlighting dualities.

Sly and either Little Sister or Rose handles the vocals - Sly is double-tracked, the female voices added in on the refrains, an octave above. The combined effect is teasing, childlike, glib. The lyrics, brief and direct, are rather blatantly about getting caught getting high and not giving a fuck, but then close with a repentant longing for connection. "You caught me smilin' again / Hangin' loose / 'Cause you ain't used to seeing me turnin' on... You caught me smilin' again / In my pain I'll be sane to take your hand." Even without indulging in biographical speculation, it's difficult to not read this song as an addict's coy mea culpa, the titular smile as a mask.

112. Sly & the Family Stone - Time (There's a Riot Goin' On, 1971)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u9Eq8hacV9c
The second 6/8 shuffle on the album is molasses slow, even slower than "Just Like a Baby". The organ in the introductory section is possibly the bleakest and loneliest stretch of bars he ever cut, a rare moment of naked melancholy unmoored from any irony or obfuscation. Towed along by the Rhythm King's unadorned "slow rock" beat, Sly's emotive vocal and rippling keyboard playing trail behind, drowning in a sea of reverb. Sly drifts through several verses of 16-bar blues, indulging in and deconstructing a ballad format that he hadn't engaged with at all since the unremarkable "That Kind of Person" from the band's 1967 debut. The sound is desolate. It seems unlikely that there's anyone else on the track at all; for once Sly seems completely and totally alone. His keyboard playing is, as ever, fascinatingly fluid and creative; the relatively simple blues changes are draped with transitional chord runs on two different clavinet tracks, the otherwise subdued organ periodically surging to the fore. A wah wah guitar track periodically keeps time, supplying additional color. There's no supporting vocals from Rose, no sympathetic filligrees from Womack or Preston. Just Sly musing to himself as the ship goes down, hollering, moaning, squealing, mumbling.

Lyrically not all the lines connect. Sly indulges his penchant for self-reference with a callback to "everyday people", and there's some off-handed rhymes that come off like filler. Sly can't stop himself from trying to inject some folksy humor to lighten the mood, but if there's a smile invoked here it's a death's head grin. Ultimately the key lines are the ones that open and close the song: "Time / Needs another minute / (At least) / Take your time / But you've got a limit" and "Time they say is the answer / But I don't believe it". This is frustration, exhaustion. Tired of being worn down, tired of always having to wait. On an album with plenty of darkness in it, this is it's darkest track.

The rushing, flowing phasing effect in the closing bars of this song are some of the most eerie, uncanny music ever. I picture him trapped there in that moment of disintegration forever; because for a song supposedly about the passage of time, what it's really about is stasis.

Re. “(You Caight Me) Smilin’ Again”

A curiously harmonized guitar, piano and organ lick is abruptly cut in in the middle of the bar and then disappears (never to return), leaving Errico a few beats to establish a straightforward, mid-tempo 4/4 rhythm

Re. “(You Caught Me) Smilin’,” I can’t hear the five-second harmonized guitar intro phrase without thinking about like a hundred P-Funk arrangements in the mid-70s. Just one of a zillion things Sly tossed off that became the basis for other people’s whole careers.

113. Sly & the Family Stone - Spaced Cowboy (There's a Riot Goin' On, 1971)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XcQV0YK_mkc
Sly loved Jim Ford. He was reportedly always around during the recording of "Riot", and while he is not credited with appearing on this track it seems likely he was the nominal inspiration. Sequenced after the grim trudge of "Time", the levity and inherent silliness of this song serve as a bit of an antidote, a course correction to bring some levity to the proceedings.

While this is in many ways the slightest song on the record, Sly nonetheless commits to the bit, employing a standard country chord structure filtered through the album's general aesthetic of multilayered percussion, shifting polyrhythms and wah wah keyboard accompaniment. There's some blatantly sloppy engineering here, as evidenced by the amount of surface noise in the opening bars alone. A mid-tempo preset from the Rhythm King leads the way, with the bass and two wah wah farfisa tracks feeling their way into the arrangement, along with two live drum tracks (presumably Errico). The song burbles along, gradually establishing the I-IV-V chord pattern as the drums putter along, before the farfisa finally hits some sustained chords and cue the vocals to come in. Sly takes the lead with a solo vocal, augmented with some heavy echo and a couple other voices (at least one of them female) doing ad libs in the background. A clavinet and wah wah guitar also wander in and out, sometimes interjecting little licks, other times helping hold the rhythm and chord structure together. Sly throws in some distorted yodeling in between the lines, and each time Errico switches to double-time for a kind of ersatz country drum part. Sly is obviously enjoying himself here, chuckling and even doing a little bit of a Jimmy Rodgers imitation, as well as throwing in an instrumental verse so he can take a harmonica solo (one last time). As an exercise in the retroactively-defined genre of "country funk" the song hits its sardonic mark, Sly reveling in yet another juxtaposition of nominally black and white styles.

Lyrically we're basically in half-assed limerick territory, Sly rattling off couplets in a joking manner, interspersed with some hearty but similarly goofy yodeling. For some reason Dylan springs to mind, particularly in his more self-consciously comical moments. There are some exceptions: "everything I like is nice / that's why I try to have it twice" is the kind of line that obscures a grim truth with a veil of humor, and the line about being called a pimp likewise has an air of "he doth protest too much" about it. As was often the case with Dylan, Sly similarly seems to indulge in this detour both because he found it personally amusing but also to challenge his audience with something unexpected; Sly was still capable of being both incredible and unpredictable, per Kapralik's PR copy.

114. Sly & the Family Stone - Runnin' Away (There's a Riot Goin' On, 1971)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=53wP25lucrk
The second single from the album (backed by "Brave and Strong"), reached 23 on the Hot 100 and 15 on the Soul Singles chart. More than any other track on the album ("Smilin'" comes closest), this song feels like a holdover from the previous year or two. It deploys a clear pop song structure and sounds like it could have easily been recorded live in the studio by the original septet. It features the bare minimum of instrumentation: there's no drum machine, no battery of wah wah keyboards, no barrage of twangy guitars. There's also no echo; the sound is warm, if a bit distorted in places, and the vocals are laid back and intimate, up close.

Sly himself seems barely present, ceding the lead vocal to Rose while singing quietly in the background and playing straightforward chords on the organ. The organ is joined by a chiming electric guitar that shepherds the band through the ascending line of the verses, and then launches into a turnaround that drops down into a half cadence of minor 7ths. The pattern repeats twice and then pivots to a major key bridge, led by a pretty horn melody played in unison, and then it's back to the top, ending with an extension of the turnaround that gives the horns the opportunity to incorporate an alternate line. The bass comfortably fills in its familiar pocket, dragging out the twos and fours in the verses and bridges, and popping trills in the turnarounds.

The real stars of this arrangement are Errico, who introduces the song with a quick snare roll and then alternates between a rock solid 4/4 rhythm and a tricky funk break, and the horns. This is the last of only four songs on the album to feature Martini and Robinson. After having been heavily featured on almost every song of the band's previous albums, their being sidelined for nearly 2/3rds of "Riot" is something of a surprise and is certainly a factor in the album's overall stylistic shift. Here the horn lines are unusually fleet and percussive, and interestingly Sly cedes the melodic spotlight to them in the turnarounds and bridges as they run through a series of sharply enunciated staccato phrases. While the horns play in unison, their tracks are panned separately (with so little going on in the track, perhaps this was Sly's way of filling the stereo space).

In contrast to some of the other songs on the album, Sly's lyrics are clear and concise, no fat, no filler. Every line is a seemingly humorous admonition of self-deceptive behavior. But for a singer who habitually injects all kinds of offhand vocal shenanigans into his delivery, here he shows an unusual degree of restraint, and the scripted laugh lines in the lyrics are deliberately forced and mechanical. The song isn't actually funny; it's a sad commentary on people desperately trying and failing to escape their circumstances, of self-sabotage ("the deeper in debt / the harder you bet"). Easy to read this as Sly (again) singing to the mirror, fully aware of the hole he's digging himself and trying to laugh it off. Look at you foolin' you.

has anyone other than The Raincoats ever covered this?

sleepy brown, kinda, for a sly tribute album

115. Sly & the Family Stone - Thank You For Talking To Me Africa (There's a Riot Goin' On, 1971)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uOlRX_MibFw
Sly opted to close out each side of the album with hypnotically long, deep grooves that directly reference dialogue with Africa: the LP as two sides of a (black) mirror. Apart from recycling the original lyrics this is otherwise a pretty different song from the "Thank You (Falletinme Be Mice Elf Agin)", and not just because of its drastically reduced tempo. The central bass riff has been chiseled down into an even more basic, elemental throb. The multi-tracked guitars, again run directly into the console to produce a dry, springy sound, stick closely to a short scratch pattern and a single spiralling riff, with only occasional embellishment apart from dramatic changes in volume (presumably Sly's doing from the mixing desk). The drums are spare and heavy, a lumbering stomp that periodically drops out altogether, re-entering with the barest of fills before splashing in on the downbeats. Occasional bursts of keyboard flicker into focus here and there but are otherwise absent for the majority of the track. Across the board the playing is distinctly minimalist, each part finely sculpted and set in stone, with only the briefest flashes of improvisation. Where the original "Thank You" was a dynamo of propulsive energy, here it has been re-cast as a slower, swaggering behemoth, heavy-lidded but sure-footed, containing an immense power.

As with "Family Affair", Errico claims the original band had cut a take of this song the year before. It's impossible to say what may have changed from that version to the one ultimately put on record; at the very least that's clearly Errico behind the kit on the final track, and the guitar part seems very much in Freddie's wheelhouse. Conversely it's hard to imagine Graham keeping his playing limited to the bedrock foundation the bass provides here, much less allowing the sloppiness of some of the fills that dot the transitions between verses. As with the original "Thank You", the horns are nowhere to be found.

While the instrumentation is constricted and tightly chained together, the sound is spacious, filled with cascading echoes. Reverb has been liberally applied to the guitars and, most notably, to the vocals, which are comprised Sly's lead vocal with backing from what sounds like a combination of Sly and Little Sister. Where the other parts of the arrangement are bound in place, Sly's vocals are the one element that roams free, bounding and cavorting around the melody with reckless abandon. The vocals don't even enter until almost two minutes into the song, Sly initially singing with a sighing, yawning delivery as if he's just waking up for a morning stretch. But soon he is shouting, grunting, yelping, talking, embroidering the lyrics with an endless series of ad-libs. Off in the distance his backing vocal answers in reply, a call-and-response dialogue with his shadow. The song is haunted by shadows - by one of the band's most monumental hits, by Sly's cultural heritage, by American racism, by the original septet itself. It's an epochal and sepulchral closer to the album, the thundering rumble of a ghost animated by pain and restlessness, shot through with black humor.

Sly would not release any new music for almost two years.

edit/correction to last paragraph:

While the instrumentation is constricted and tightly chained together, the sound is spacious, filled with cascading echoes. Reverb has been liberally applied to the guitars and, most notably, to the vocals, which are comprised Sly's lead vocal with backing from what sounds like a combination of Sly and Little Sister. Where the other parts of the arrangement are bound in place, Sly's vocals are the one element that roams free, bounding and cavorting around the melody with reckless abandon. The vocals don't even enter until almost two minutes into the song, Sly initially singing with a sighing, yawning delivery as if he's just waking up for a morning stretch. But soon he is shouting, grunting, yelping, talking, embroidering the lyrics with an endless series of ad-libs. Off in the distance his backing vocal answers in reply, a call-and-response dialogue with his shadow. It's here the Sly most conspicuously traces the contours of roots reggae dub - recycling an old song, slowing it down and making it heavier, putting new, heavily ad-libbed vocals on it, dropping out and punching in elements from the mixing desk, extensively applying echo, but perhaps most significantly evoking Africa through the use of space, subtraction, absence. The song is haunted by shadows - by one of the band's most monumental hits, by Sly's cultural heritage, by American racism, by the original septet itself. It's an epochal and sepulchral closer to the album, the thundering rumble of a ghost animated by pain and restlessness, shot through with black humor.

Great post. Slight correction: it’s not in the foreground but Martini and Cynthia do play quite a bit on the original “Thank You,” including some slippery “Peter Gunn”-ish chordal work.

Correct, that was a mistake/leftover sentence fragment.

Sly would not release any new music for almost two years.

Too long to wait! Fortunately we can discuss "My Gorilla Is My Butler" first.

116. Sly & the Family Stone - In Time (Fresh, 1973)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g6xhSqz_4m8
Released in June 1973, "Fresh" was Sly's return to the public eye after firing Kapralik and getting a new publishing deal through new management (ie, Ken Roberts). If anything, the recording sessions for "Fresh" were even more chaotic and disorganized than "Riot", and the stories surrounding the album's creation paint a shocking and grim picture. Much had been made of Sly's unreliability in the nearly two years between "Riot" and "Fresh", but it seems clear that what was primarily holding Sly back from releasing music wasn't a lack of material or creativity - in fact, he was writing and recording constantly.

On a purely artistic (as opposed to commercial) level, this is an incredible record, in many ways a perfectly natural progression from "Riot", created in a similar piecemeal fashion using a phalanx of shifting musicians, many of whom were ecstatic about the opportunity to support Sly, in particular new drummer Andy Newmark. Sly maintained an unusual predilection for white drummers throughout the majority of his career. He always kept one in his stable, all the way up until "Back on the Right Track" in 1979. Errico's departure in the wake of "Riot" left a huge hole and, the Rhythm King notwithstanding, Sly knew it. The arrival of Newmark behind the kit signalled a subtle shift in sound and direction, and coincided with a brief extension of Sly's commercial fortunes, which were nonetheless wholly extinguished by the end of 1974. There are a couple of remarkable accounts of Newmark talking his way into the band (https://med✧✧✧.c✧✧✧@ja✧✧✧.r✧✧✧_84272/its-a-family-affair-395ccb53e9e and https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hvsvKS6pGy8), and in light of Newmark's playing on this record (and on "In Time" in particular), Sly's reported reaction to hearing him for the first time makes perfect sense. Newmark is, unquestionably, a funky motherfucker.

Robinson: "[Sly] wanted to use a drummer to play his idea for him. He didn't have time to get his drum chops going. His ideas were there. He could do whatever lick he wanted... We were in the studio with that drum thing in "In Time," which is a backward funk thing. Every drummer who heard he was having a session dropped in. Sly wanted to see if any of these drummers could do it. Andy Newmark walked in on that session after five or six drummers came through - Buddy Miles, some others. Syl would show them the lick, how he wanted it done, and they would try and couldn't get it. Soon as he'd see a drummer walk into the studio, he'd be working on a song and stop to see if they could play this lick. Then Andy showed up. So he played it for Andy - I was there - and Andy sat at the drums and did it."

Graham's departure midway through the recording sessions for "Fresh" was also a huge loss, but despite all the bad blood (including death threats and actual attempts to carry out said death threats between Graham and Sly's respective entourages) Graham was gracious and self-aware enough to hand-pick an excellent replacement, Rusty Allen. Allen still had to pass an audition with Sly, but Graham's instincts proved fortuitous: while Rusty wasn't the groundbreaking powerhouse of his predecessor, he had definitely absorbed his style and he fit both Sly and Newmark like a glove.

All that being said, what is actually going on in this song? It opens with a drumroll over a preset from the Rhythm King, Newmark adding little accents but otherwise establishing a firm 4/4 tempo over a 6-bar intro, and then bass, two pumping-and-breathing organ tracks, and a clean guitar lick enter with a descending three-chord pattern before being joined by a fuzz bass for a four-note turnaround, signalling the switch to the verse. Honestly, words fail when it comes to the brain-twisting syncopated beat that Newmark settles into. It's funk for sure, but he's constantly moving around the downbeat without ever actually emphasizing it, he doesn't even hit the same snare pattern from one measure to the next, and yet everything he plays feels snapped tightly together. Which is true of the other instruments as well: the guitar, the horns, the bass, and the other keyboards all dodge and weave around each other with carefully clipped lines, placing the emphasis on different beats throughout. The easiest example to follow is one of the organ lines, which starts out the first verse by consistently hitting a quarter note on the third beat of each bar. But after the intro is repeated and the band comes in for a second verse, this time around the organ sticks to quarter notes on the *second* beat of each bar. The song is littered with these kinds of dizzying inversions.

Everything is dry (except for the drums, which have a fair amount of reverb on them) and everything is panned distinctly apart in the stereo field, which hightens the overall polyrhythmic impact. Everything is also very clean, in a departure from "Riot". The bass, for example, is compressed and doesn't have any of the noise or grit that Graham and Sly typically employed. The guitar and organs are both crystal clear. Even the fuzz bass is relatively constrained. The song repeats it's verse-break structure several times, making way for a couple saxophone solos and drum breaks, and plenty of instrumental interplay before fading out after nearly 6 minutes.

It’s notable that this is the first time there’s a saxophone solo on a Sly and the Family Stone song, and yet it isn’t Martini that plays it, it’s Pat Rizzo, the new guy. According to Martini, Rizzo had been brought in as a kind of threat from Sly to keep Martini from getting out of line and demanding more money. Rizzo: "I played the solo on "In Time". [Sly] would lay a rhythm track down and then start figuring out what he was going to do with the bass lines, guitar parts. I think he played most of the instruments. He always put the drums on last. He had the girls dancing in front of Andy Newmark when he put the drums on. That's why it's so difficult to understand the drum machine and what Newmark's doing on "In Time"."

Sly delivers the lead vocal, with backing from Little Sister on the refrains, and his voice is relatively strong and crisp. Lyrically there's more words than Sly had ever crammed into a song before, but many of them are half-formed aphorisms that don't entirely connect or rely on forced rhyme schemes. The most self-referential lines are the ones that leap out, and it's the "two years / too long to wait" and "switched from coke to pep / and I'm a connosieur" that usually get called out. But as usual there's always a sense of elision, of slipperiness; Sly is rarely being completely honest.

As a shot across the bow, this is quite an opening track. It's Sly taking a formula for funk - one that he had a lead role in creating - and turning it inside out; the emphasis on the one beat has been excised, the players are orbiting around a black hole, suggesting its existence by its absence. Miles Davis reportedly made his band listen to it for 30 minutes on repeat prior to a rehearsal.

"in time" is perhaps the grooviest song of all time

Miles Davis reportedly made his band listen to it for 30 minutes on repeat prior to a rehearsal.

amazing detail, ty

117. Sly & the Family Stone - If You Want Me To Stay (Fresh, 1973)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gZFabOuF4Ps
"If You Want Me to Stay" was the band's final Top 20 pop hit, reaching number 12 on the Pop Chart, and number three on the Billboard R&B Singles Chart. After the bewildering "In Time", "If You Want Me To Stay" feels like a reassuring gesture that Sly was not going to leave his pop audience wholly adrift, that he was still capable of delivering a compact, catchy tune. It's built entirely around a sturdy four-chord cycle (ok, yes there's a fifth grace chord) that is repeated throughout, but the real highlights are the remarkably concise bassline and the countermelody from the Rizzo, Martini and Robinson, one of the best horn arrangements Sly ever came up with.

Beginning inconspicuously with a bass figure, a kick drum hit, and the Rhythm King off in the background, there's a few bars of guitar fiddling before the bassline kicks in, along with an acoustic piano trilling around the edges. The bassline serves as the song's hook, another one of Sly's ingenious melodies that sounds like it's going in both directions at once; the chord progression is pulling downwards, but the bassline goes up the scale while still being stitched together by short descending phrases. Sly is reportedly playing everything here except for the horns and drums, and the bassline is pretty solidly delivered throughout, with little deviation, it's the anchor of the song. The horns are mixed relatively low, but are double tracked to accomodate some fairly complex, pointilist lines that overlap and call back to one another, never letting up. Newmark's playing behind the kit is straightforward, occasionally snapping open hi-hat accents, but keeping to the snare on the twos and fours. Sly's keyboards playing - on both piano and organ - is all color and shading, comping swelling, inverted chords and rhythmic variations, the piano and organ only really taking a solo in the instrumental breaks in the middle and towards the end, when the song abruptly putters to a close, much as it started. It's all over fairly quickly, leaving the impression that this was a brief, distilled moment of clarity, Sly whittling down his improvisatory tendencies into an oddly compelling slice of pop funk.

His vocal delivery is, as usual, all over the place, leaping from a falsetto to a throaty lower register, dodging and dancing around the melody. The lyrics are deceptive by design: it's statements of commitment are immediately undercut and revealed as conditional. Kathleen Silva (Sly's first wife): "A lot of things that Sly used to do would end up in a song. People around him would end up being his new material for writing. I remember one time I was pregnant, and I was bitching at him because he was always going to the studio and doing things. He would be out all night... I felt left out. He made a song up: "If you want me to stay / I'll be around today, I'll be available..."" No one's getting any hard promises out of Sly, least of all those ostensibly closest to him.

Is Sly’s vocal sped up here? I’ve always assumed it was (and was an influence on Prince’s Camille character regardless).

Next track sounds more Camille to these ears. What a glorious thread, thank you shakey (?)

Yeah, these breakdowns are great, thanks :)

118. Sly & the Family Stone - Let Me Have It All (Fresh, 1973)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CGumgIIq7d4
Many of the tracks on "Fresh" are like an extension of the approach of "Riot", but with some key adjustments: 1) the engineering and production are generally crisper and less muddy (even though there is still plenty of sloppy editing and weird artifacts left in the mixes); 2) the horns are much more prominent, and their parts are highly structured, the result being tracks with a more clearly defined shape; and 3) Newmark is just a completely different drummer from Errico.

As with the prior track, things begin rather inauspiciously, punched in in the middle of a bar, a guitar, bass and organ feeling their way around a slowed down Rhythm King preset, with Newmark tentatively establishing the downbeat. A chair squeaks, there's bleed from a muted electric guitar track off in the background. Then Sly's vocal - likely pitched up, his voice is thinner and higher than usual - enters and a song materializes. This is the seams showing, the overall approach to the song's construction is clearly audible in the finished product. The songs on "Fresh" have an emergent quality, there's no longer any straightforward process of writing a song, reharsing it, and then recording it. Instead there's an accumulation of largely improvised details (the horns are an exception here, it must be said), which are then worked over and edited and shaped into something resembling a conventional song.

Tom Flye, an engineer with the Record Plant in Sausalito where Sly completed "Fresh": "He wouldn't sit and work on a track until it was finished. It was more spontaneous than that. A typical session would be, come in, get everything working. Of course, every time these tapes were given back to me, all the track sheets and all that stuff was missing. Finally, it boiled down to, put a tape up, and run to where you heard music, and then start bringing faders up. If it sounded good, you left the fader up. If it didn't sound good, you turned it off. You could get it all up, then he would say: "I want to do a bass part." You would hook up a bass and do a bass part. Or he didn't have an idea right then. Then we would put up another song. Sometimes, he'd work a little bit on each one of them when they were put up. Sometimes, he could go through ten or fifteen tracks before he found something that he wanted to work on." Perhaps it goes without saying that this approach has become de rigeur, especially since the advent of digital recording technology but even before then too (Prince is an obvious example). In the early 70s, however, this was very rare, if not wholly unprecedented.

On "Let Me Have It All", what gives shape to the track is the vocals and the horns. Without them it's just a jumble of riffs and phrases. There's no chord changes, everything is oriented around a single tonal center, all the movement and shading provided by the polyrhythms and harmonic variations as the instruments and voices swap octaves and chord voicings. The mix is chaotic, wah wah guitars and organs swirling and burbling underneath. Sly's lead vocal establishes a verse/chorus call-and-response pattern with Little Sister. The lyrics are, in something of a novel turn for Sly, romantically oriented, a topic he had largely avoided for much of the previous few years' output. They're still coy and tentative, full of uncertainty; he references marriage in the context of a peak to be reached, but also expresses (as usual) fear and trepidation. Sly wants it all, but is also afraid of actually getting it. Vocals established, the horns enter with a familiar crescendo in the first chorus, capping the line with a staccato phrase that echoes the chorus' vocal melody. The horns then repeat variations of the line throughout, entering in the middle of the subsequent verses and extending through the choruses. The ladies keep up a steady series of "hey heys" and "let me have it all"s throughout, providing another consistent through line.

Newmark is, again, in a whole other league from Errico on this track. Errico may have been an innovator, one who played with a distinctive amount of force and energy and was able to come up with beats unlike anyone else, but Newmark's playing is tighter and cleaner, and also much more nuanced and complex. The Rhythm King is ballast, providing him with the freedom to explore all sorts of tricky figures and polyrhythms without ever losing the groove. Here he employs the technique of playing fills that start in one bar and then extend past the downbeat, into the next bar (something he says he picked up from Tony Williams); he never drops the downbeat entirely, but it is obscured, caught up in this procession of overlapping patterns.

Until, that is, Sly gets bored and the song abruptly peters out, the bass and guitars disappear, a second drum track briefly pops in, and Sly's fingers run off the organ. An off mic "okay" is caught on the track as Newmark, the horns and Little Sister gamely carry on through the fade out.

Killer posts as per usual. I just discovered the alternate mixes version of this album and...yikes...I think it's way more of a sequel to Riot than the released mix.

Holy crap, that alternate mix of this is incredible.

Right? Gorgeous druggy funk.

The vocal on "If You Want Me to Stay" always felt to me like a nod (or challenge? or parody?) to Stevie Wonder.
Speeding up his vocals on this album is sort of the aural equivalent of having the cover photo taken while lying on glass so he looks like he's leaping rather than laying.

119. Sly & the Family Stone - Frisky (Fresh, 1973)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nnr3SMeckGg
Flye: "He had a little sixteen-track studio in his aparment in New York... his house in Bel Air had a full, competent studio hidden in the attic. We worked in Sausolito quite a bit. And then, from time to time, we would take one of my portable rigs over to his mother's house in Stonestown. We would work in the basement there... He had a Toyota station wagon that was his tape vault and at the beginning of the session this station wagon would arrive and all this tape would be unloaded and dumped into a big pile on the floor. A station wagon pretty much full. I would say, forty to a hundred reels of tape."

Stephen Paley, Sly's Epic Records A&R rep and Art Director: "I came out there and worked on it a little bit… I just remember a lot of piecemeal recording going on. More micro-editions. He completely let me do the cover. I got Richard Avedon to shoot it. Sly respected brand names and Richard Avedon was a brand name and the company was willing to pay what he wanted, which was a lot. Rolling Stone ran an item about the cover saying that Sly wasn't really jumping, he was standing on plexiglass or suspended by wires. That is nonsense. He was absolutely jumping. He was doing karate. I wrote a letter to the editor."

"Frisky" is another patchwork piece that sounds like it was built up from Sly messing about at the electric piano over the Rhythm King, with the mix gradually layering in Newmark's drums, the horns and Little Sister. The core of the song is clearly the opening piano figure, a fantastically catchy circular turnaround held in place by the slapped bassline. The mix is initially quite minimal, some echo on Newmark's snare as he marks time but otherwise just the dryly recorded bass, piano, and wah wah clavinet, the Rhythm King barely audible. Sly's vocal enters as the piano figure is repeated several times before segueing into a brief, four-chord middle eight, where his delivery gets pretty Stevie Wonder-ish ("call me back on the telephone"). Then it's back to the main riff and the horns and backing vocals come in. The double-tracked horns play two sustained, elastic lines that cross-over each other, voicing tight harmonies, Rizzo breaking off into a solo line for the middle eight. Newmark swerves between some fancy footwork for the central groove and a more straightahead beat on the middle eights, always keeping the snare on the three. There is again an accumulative effect, the accretion of details coalescing into a surprisingly cohesive whole, however briefly, before abruptly fading out (possibly prompted by the extraneous off-beat clapping in the final bars).

The lyrics are a puzzling mix of semi-nonsensical rhymed couplets ("Energy the jailer / wanna keep it in check / gonna check with my tailor / 'cause I don't give a heck") and fairly literal observations about spending a lot of time in bed ("that's why I keep music / all around the bed"), although there is a consistent theme of exhaustion. How "Frisky" fits into this is not entirely clear, Sly sings as if this is a person's name and not an adjective. His vocal again sounds slightly sped up, and the delivery is very conversational, his always expressive voice raspy and grainy (parallels with Ray Charles), singing as if he's relaying a series of private in-jokes. Equating being too lazy to get out of bed with conserving his energy? He was obviously still capable of extended bursts of activity, including recording non-stop and jumping around in platform shoes.

having the cover photo taken while lying on glass so he looks like he's leaping rather than laying.
― Halfway there but for you

Glad to have my bubble burst for only a few hours.

120. Sly & the Family Stone - Thankful n' Thoughtful (Fresh, 1973)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kLOH6w4jMpA
From the bottom to the top. As with many of the other tracks on this album, this sounds like a natural extension of "Riot" but the overall mood is lighter, and thematically it looks back (somewhat uncharacteristically for Sly) to his family's gospel roots for some gratitude practice, a paean to persistence and redemption. The tempo is relatively slack and the instrumentation is minimal: two wah wah electric guitars, electric piano, bass, horns, Little Sister, Newmark and the Rhythm King, and Sly singing lead. Again there are no chords, and it sounds like it was largely improvised and structured around a specific hook, in this case the four-note bass riff.

Flye: "Sly was kind of the innovator of the track-by-track, build-your-record overdub style. When I was working with him, he almost never tracked more than one instrument at a time. He really did that way before most people… Sometimes he'd put down an organ track first, and that would tell you the chord changes. Then he'd go onto whatever idea he had next--it might be a little guitar lick; put that in there. So there was no set way of working. The first versions were like demos, and the demos would evolve. If someone else could play the part better than him, okay. If they couldn't, he'd do it. Quite often the drums went on last."

The bassline sticks pretty consistently in the pocket, even with all the various inflections and shifts in phrasing. The electric piano is all over the place, constantly leaping octaves and shimmying up and down the scale, never settling into a particular pattern. Again it's Sly's vocal that provides some kind of familiar verse/chorus structure, which is augmented by Little Sisters' backing vocals repeating the "thankful, thoughtful" refrains. Once the horns enter, playing a tight staccato countermelody in unison that splits into harmonies at the end of each phrase, the choruses are basically a call and response between them and Little Sister, with Sly tossing in some vocal acrobatics in the background. The wah wah guitars enter in the second verse and, similar to the piano, snakes through a series of octave-spanning licks and blues scales, never staying in one place.

Sly is at his most verbose on "Fresh", and he crams in a lot of lines here, all focused around getting prayed up. Multiple lines reference being lucky to even still be alive, a sidelong acknowledgment of an inherently dangerous and risky lifestyle, and many speak directly to an effort to revive the wide-eyed optimism of prior years. Counting his blessings, Sly returns to a familiar theme in the last verse, directly citing his parents as the source of his music. The lyrics are distinctly personal, even with the distancing effect of referring to himself in the third person ("the main man felt Syl should be here another day"). This is Sly trying to do the right thing, keep himself in line, keep his head on straight, be a good kid, let some sunshine in.

121. Sly & the Family Stone - Skin I'm In (Fresh, 1973)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ruq2HJGs31g
Starting with the barest of bass riffs, this is a departure from prior tracks. For one, Newmark is on his own behind the drum kit, leading with a double-time hi-hat pattern and the kick drum on the two beat for the whole 30-second intro, which is nothing but drums, bass and some electric piano noodling (and, to be fair, a whole lot of background noise). But then Newmark unexpectedly changes up his pattern and an entirely different song bursts into full bloom, a staggered, double-tracked horn part charging over a lugubrious tempo as the electric piano fills out the harmonies of a descending chord line. After the initial fanfare the keyboard and bass modulate down for a brief vamp so Sly can sing a few lines before returning to the refrain. This structure is repeated twice, and then there's a remarkable bridge, led by the horns peppering in a cross-chatter of rising and falling 8th note runs. This is probably the most complex horn arrangement Sly had written to-date, as if he's finally unlocked how to incorporate horns into the style and methods he's been leaning on since the "Riot" sessions. The harmonic and rhythmic invention here are eye-opening. Newmark clearly loves it, playing off the horn phrases with a lot of footwork and ghost notes on the snare. There's a very dynamic tension between Newmark's slow, spare drumbeat (he lays off the hi-hat) and the busy-ness of the other instruments; the bass, keys and horns buzz through almost every bar with a flurry of 8th and 16th note runs, seemingly filling in every beat and off-beat.

In all this whirl of activity, Sly's vocal sits in the middle (at one point a second track comes in) but largely takes a backseat, dropping out for entire sections as the chorus and bridge are repeated into the fadeout, ceding the spotlight to the horns. If any part of this track feels unfinished, it's the vocals and lyrics which, in contrast from the daring and twisty instrumental arrangement, are only half-there. There's a handful of both positive and negative lines about being black, ultimately painting an understandably ambivalent picture, but they are disconnected and tossed off, and Sly spends most of the track just ad libbing with as much force as he can muster.

122. Sly & the Family Stone - I Don't Know (Satisfaction) (Fresh, 1973)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VmXQBtdPZIA
Sly gets political, in his way. Following a brief introductory bass lick, everything kicks immediately kicks in: Little Sister's backing vocals chanting "All we need is little action, if it's only but a fraction", the horns playing a long crescendo that doubles up on the backing vocal melody at the end of the line. The Rhythm King is again absent, Newmark's midtempo beat is in a constant back-and-forth dialogue with the other instruments, echoing and matching their off-beat accents with his own while still somehow always sticking to the groove. The bass, again likely Sly, dips in and out of familiar slapped and popped, octave-spanning riffs, bright and crisp. The percussive and harmonic stew is thickened with a couple tracks of wah wah guitar and electric piano, playing a series of improvised phrases that swirl around the root chord. Again this is clearly a track that was built up from overdubs and edited into a final mix, and not in the most meticulous way (you can hear Sly tell the engineer to "go back" ie, rewind the tape, towards the end). And again there's no changes; Sly and Newmark construct a dense musical backdrop that is given shape and form by the lines of the lyrics and the vocal delivery.

Sly is in fine vocal form here, nothing spectacular, but he comes off as excitably committed to the stream of half-formed slogans that he rattles off. The backing vocals by comparison are more sedate, resigned. Sly doesn't come up with anything as effective as "different strokes for different folks", though some of the lines do connect and convey a sense of Sly trying to rekindle his previously fiery optimism, recapture that energy, to keep keepin' on. Nothing is very specific. In the past he might have sang about the band or namedropped family members. Here he's primarily singing about himself, the experience of being in a crowd, part of a movement, but it's vague and undefined.

In "Skin I'm In", I've always loved the detail that it's Sly's clothes that provoke him to behave the way he does.

It's telling that his protest song is diffident enough to be named "I Don't Know".

123. Sly & the Family Stone - Keep On Dancin' (Fresh, 1973)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TwGt12ywrZs
This isn't the first time Sly helmed a track that was ostensibly about dancing and yet was not itself particularly danceable. True, it's considerably funkier than the Mojo Men's "Dance With Me" (Thankful n' Thoughtfull: The Sly Stone Dedicated Chronological Listening Thread), but the pointillist drum beat, it's long pattern stretched out as if in half-time is not exactly designed to fill dancefloors. It's also not the first time Sly recycled the refrain/theme of one of his earlier hits, here going all the way back to the band's first big success.

That being said, this track isn't bad exactly but it does have a distinct air of laziness about it. At first it follows a standard 12-bar blues chord change (although note that Sly can't be bothered to stick to the script, he switches to a 16-bar phrase midway through), introduced by a bass pulse, a tick-tock rhythm from the Rhythm King and Newmark, and an organ banging out a simple chord on the twos and fours, a guitar mirroring it on the off-beat of the three. Little Sister laconically repeat the ""dance to the music"" refrain throughout. Sly layers in another wah wah organ and a wah wah guitar, but maybe the most notable aspect of the track is that the clean electric guitar track that's been run directly into the desk sounds distinctly like Freddie, all hammered on runs and fluid blues licks. Rusty Allen's credited with bass on this track and he doesn't deviate too far from the template of Sly and Graham, but acquits himself well with a very strong rhythmic line, full of staccato quarter notes, thumb slaps and finger pops. Newmark is also in fine form, flashing open hi-hats accents and little snare fills, again obscuring the downbeat but never losing his way. On the whole it's not too far what Sly might have constructed on its own, small details aside. Sly's vocal is fine, projecting a kind of strained enthusiasm. The lyrics are tossed-off filler about dancing and a girl (and one "I see what you did there, Sly"-level line about getting "snowed in"), and don't really bear examination. Sly's formula sound of knottily complex, overdubbed grooves is sturdy enough to carry what's otherwise a lightweight exercise without much thought to it. The mix is still engaging and the playing is still sharp, even when the material is relatively weak."

god this one is bleak

I find this one kind of witty, playing with audience expectations; though obviously flirting with an indolence that would only increase.

it's a great song it just feels a bit like I'm dancing at gunpoint

124. Sly & the Family Stone - Que Sera Sera (Whatever Will Be Will Be) (Fresh, 1973)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xGkWuZxuP-4
The only cover song officially released by Sly and the Family Stone during their initial run. Sly was prone to throwing the occasional curveball (see also: Spaced Cowboy, Sex Machine, etc.), and this track is a definite outlier on "Fresh". After spending most of this album seeing how far he could subdivide slow-rolling tempos with tricky funk polyrhythms (which bears more than a passing resemblance to similar approaches deployed by rap producers in the last 20+ years), Sly makes a detour to transform a pretty pop standard into an in-joke.

Doris Day's son, Terry Melcher, crossed paths with pretty much everybody in the LA music scene in the late 60s and early 70s (for ex. in "Long Promised Road" Brian Wilson recalls Melcher bringing Sly over to his house, where he promptly snorted a bunch of coke and fell asleep on the couch). Melcher was a staff producer at Columbia Records, he produced the Byrds, he produced Manson, he was tight with Kapralik. He appears to have been something of a polarizing figure, and at some point entered Sly's orbit. Martini: "Terry Melcher, Doris Day's son, sleazebag motherfucker, was around. I hate him, very bad person."

Kapralik: "Sly was at the piano and Terry was standing next to him. Doris walked into the living room, on her way to the bedroom, and Tery introduced Sly to Doris. Then Sly started playing "Que Sera Sera" and she sang along or hummed it along with him, said goodbye and that was it."

Paley: "[Sly] could be very charming when he wanted to be. He said to her how much he liked "Que Sera Sera." That song was a huge hit for her in the fifties. They went into the living room and Sly played and she sang it. They did a duet at the piano. Then, the rumor surfaced that they were having an affair. When it came out that he was recording this song, he didn't do anything to discourage this rumor either. When asked about it, he would just kind of smile, but he wouldn't deny it. he wouldn't confirm it either."

Kapralik's recollection puts the gestation of this track earlier in the timeline than much of the rest of this record (which was released following Kapralik's dismissal). It's not clear if that's Graham on bass, but it's possible. The song does feel like it's the product of a different set of circumstances than others on the album. It sounds like it was tracked live with a minimum of overdubs or studio editing: a simple and steady 6/8 R&B ballad drumbeat, electric piano, organ, and bass, with Rose on lead vocal and Sly and Little Sister stepping to the fore on the choruses.

There's more going on with this cover than just ironic provocation. Sly doesn't mess with the song's overall verse/chorus structure or chords to put his own stamp on it, instead, he does slow it down dramatically and casts it as a ruminative, churchified hymn, foregrounding the interaction between him and his sister in a way that draws an explicit connection to their shared experience growing up in a gospel family. The languid, almost funereal tempo stretches the song out, making it the longest on the album (and twice the length of Doris Day's version), allowing plenty of room for Sly (and presumably Rose) to engage in some lovely keyboard back-and-forth throughout. A wah wah guitar briefly steps into the spotlight for a barely-there solo prior to the final verse. There's also snatches of the familial, conversational interplay that was formerly a staple of the band's material as Sly and Rose switch off on lead vocals between the verses and choruses. Really the star of this song is Rose, whose gentle, plaintive delivery of the lead vocal is more effective at conveying the song's dreamy fatalism than Sly's over-emoting shenanigans. To be fair gospel is all about the peaks and valleys, and Sly's delivery makes sense in that context, it's just that the sadness and regret in Rose's verses cuts more deeply.

I’ve always wondered about those Martini comments about Melcher from the oral history. In the context of a band with a leader that had a PCP addiction and an attack dog named Gun chasing band members out of windows (never to return IIRC), calling a visitor a “very bad person” and “I hate him” seems slightly alarming.

I love this song – I actually think the contrast between Rose’s plaintive vocal and Sly’s caterwauling is one of the things that makes it work so well. It also feels uncommonly sad to me.

125. Sly & the Family Stone - If It Were Left Up To Me (Fresh, 1973)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SUkfZCSCQOU
A marvelous, neglected deep cut. After so many tracks that were made by retroactively applying songcraft to sprawling, overdubbed grooves, it's almost jarring to hear something this precisely arranged. It's not an especially complicated song, just three short, 16-bar verses. The first 12 bars of each verse feature a simple chord progression, repeated three times, that goes from the I (F) to the V (C), respectively passing through the minor and the seventh, with the last four bars consisting of a turnaround that throws in the minor VII (E) and then the minor VI (D) before landing back at the V. This is an ingenious, highly melodic little set of changes, and bears more of a resemblance to "Family Affair" or "If You Want Me to Stay" than anything else on the "Fresh".

The arrangement is similarly streamlined, its simplicity adding to its effectiveness. Remarkably, Newmark delivers a beat that's beyond basic and essentially recreates (along with, presumably, Graham, although he is not officially credited) Errico and Graham's signature huffing-and-puffing rhythm. The bass pops out evenly accented quarter notes over the 4/4 rhythm, ceding most of the polyrhythmic accents to the horns, who get in a wonderfully nimble countermelody that splits into some very creatively voiced harmonies. Unconventionally, after each verse the band drops out entirely for a full bar, building tension and momentarily keeping the listener guessing until the beat kicks back in. At the end of the third verse, as the organ swells through the last bar, Sly adds on a comical "cha cha cha", like a little bow to tie up the song. It's notable how much Sly stays in the background here; for the first time in a long while he is not the center of attention, keeping strictly to a low-key organ part and sharing lead vocals with Little Sister, whose blaring harmonies blend with the horns, filling in harmonic space that Sly would typically have taken up by guitars and keyboards in this period. This is very much a tight, live ensemble knocking out a finely polished two minute slice of pop-funk.

Sly doesn't even really sing lead here, his voice, relaxed and conversational, is buried under Little Sisters' more dynamic delivery, apart from a couple shouts here and there. The lyrics are some of Sly's best on the record, full of his idiosyncratic mix of hopefulness and despair. Whereas before he often sang of the band as a kind of utopian family, here he is openly longing for that kind of support and connection, reiterating his own commitment to a dream that seems out of reach:

If it were left up to me, it would take more than a notion
If it were left up to me, we could put ideas in motion
Had it been left up to you, would you try, would you try
If it were left up to me, I would try

If it were left up to me, we would live, yeah, in a bubble
If it were left up to me or you, we would stay out of trouble
But it's the way that they do (do us wrong), makes you cry, makes you cry
And still it's left up to you, got to try

If it were left up to you, would you sigh and forget it
And get some sleeping to see if you live to regret it
Now that it's left up to me and you, Will you try, will you try
I promise from me to you, I will try
I promise from me to you, I will try

This is the emotional crux of the record, trying to balance the two sides of idealism and cynicism; also the painful foreshadowing.

I always heard the C as the tonic rather than the F, so each verse (and the whole song) ends on it.

Don't want to be a big nitpick as this thread is absolutely amazing, but Newmark isn't on If It Were Left Up To Me - it was apparently recorded around January 1970 with Greg and Larry and was meant for a Little Sister album.

I must admit I've become kind of obsessed with the alternate mix of this album (which is kind of a misnomer because some of the performances are altogether different). "Let Me Have It All" continues to be my favorite of the bunch--it deletes the horns but sounds like it could go on forever by the third or fourth verse--but man, some of these are just terrific -- and complement the official version nicely in that you can really hear what Shakey is saying about how he layered things and built tracks up through overdubs.

It's not really clear what the origin of these versions is since they were mistakenly released on a CD issue in the early 90s, but it's worth noting that alternate versions exist for every track other than "In Time" (which is a slight bummer as that track is so deep). Also not sure why they didn't release all of them officially on the last issue. But they're so good.

126. Sly & the Family Stone - Babies Makin' Babies (Fresh, 1973)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jn35vo1PYbo
After a couple of throwback tracks, Sly closes out the album with another ruminative, droning workout cobbled together in the studio. Ultimately it feels like a half-written song, borne out of a fascination with the title phrase and then paired with a fairly simple melodic idea, fleshed out by the horns and backing vocals.

Again there's no real chord changes, all the instruments coiled around the tonic, the horns, organ and backing vocals filling in different chord voicings and harmonies while a clean electric guitar and a wah wah organ play around with a repeated three-note figure that walks up from the tonic to the IV and back down again. The bass and guitar are constantly darting around each other, swapping staggered little phrases. Sly leans on a hammond part to thicken the overall sound and provide some additional variations, but really it's the horns and the backing vocals that have the most distinct melodic role. A twisty, harmonized horn line is repeated throughout and consists of several rolling phrases, with a sustained bent note prominently featured in the middle. Newmark, unusually, doesn't get too fancy behind the kit apart from some cymbal splashes and the occasional snare accent, otherwise hewing closely to a simple, even, midtempo 4/4. This track may be the messiest on the album in terms of excess noise: studio chatter, keys rattling, and especially track bleed from the horns and backing vocals are all prominent.

The vocal arrangement leans heavily on the call-and-response between Sly's lead and Little Sister's backing vocals, which are arranged to closely mirror the horns harmonies, and for once they even get in a few ad libs. Sly, as usual, varies his phrasing constantly, extending and slurring phrases, jumping around the rhythm, endlessly turning the central phrase around. Domesticity and (often half-hearted) commitment were creeping into the picture for Sly, references to both litter the album and come to the fore here. Even so, the lyrics are little more than the titular mantra, interspersed with tossed-off rhymes ("tall or tall, small or small"?) and second-hand homilies ("from the womb to the tomb", "tell the truth to the youth" etc.) The vocals are engaging and the horn part in particular shows real inspiration, but it nonetheless comes off as an oddly muted and not altogether satisfying conclusion to the album. It does, however, presage the band's next album in a very literal way.

139. Elvin Bishop - Sunshine Special (Let It Flow, 1974)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cny5-1KRC7U
1974 was the real point-of-no-return for Sly, the beginning of a long period of drifting from project to project, attempting to collaborate, produce, or otherwise make a half-hearted "comeback". In some ways he reverted to the role he played in the pre-Family Stone era of his career, except this time around the commercial success and inspired innovation had been replaced by legal liabilities and self-sabotage born of crippling drug addiction.

Curiously, before finishing "Small Talk", Sly inexplicably appeared on this Elvin Bishop album, released in May of 1974. No idea if Sly is even audible on this track. He is generically credited with "organ" on the entire album and there's a tiny snippet of organ and piano toward the end. Unremarkable.

140. Elvin Bishop - Let It Flow (Let It Flow, 1974)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jvlBF86TZug
Sly's prominent gospel organ drives this tune, but there's nothing particularly distinctive about it and honestly any half-qualified church organist could've done it. And it's in the service of a song that, much like the rest of the album, is not exactly bad or objectionable but just seems kind of overcooked, full of fussy playing and corny "aw shucks!" humor."

141. Elvin Bishop - Can't Go Back (Let It Flow, 1974)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yzv-Iw-lweI
It's likely/possible that's Sly on organ. Nothing really notable, he's lost in a highly skilled but conventional ensemble.