Sly Stone, the visionary multi-instrumentalist, singer, and songwriter who led Sly and the Family Stone – in doing so helping to pioneer what would come to be known as funk music – has died at the age of 82, his family announced on social media.
“It is with profound sadness that we announce the passing of our beloved dad, Sly Stone of Sly and the Family Stone,” the family's statement read. “After a prolonged battle with COPD [Chronic obstructive pulmonary disease] and other underlying health issues, Sly passed away peacefully, surrounded by his three children, his closest friend, and his extended family.
“While we mourn his absence, we take solace in knowing that his extraordinary musical legacy will continue to resonate and inspire for generations to come.
“Sly was a monumental figure, a groundbreaking innovator, and a true pioneer who redefined the landscape of pop, funk, and rock music,” the statement continued. “His iconic songs have left an indelible mark on the world, and his influence remains undeniable.
“In a testament to his enduring creative spirit, Sly recently completed the screenplay for his life story, a project we are eager to share with the world in due course, which follows a memoir published in 2024.
“We extend our deepest gratitude for the outpouring of love and prayers during this difficult time. We wish peace and harmony to all who were touched by Sly's life and his iconic music.”
Posted by slyfamilystone on
Led by the titular Sly, Sly and the Family Stone rocketed to fame in the late '60s, first on the back of the chart-topping 1968 smash, Everyday People.
Though they broadly fit in with the psychedelic bent of the era, the band's sound – equal parts soul, R&B, and rock – was revolutionary, and helped lay the blueprint for what would come to be known simply as funk.
Indeed, it can be reasonably argued that the band's second chart-topper, 1969's epochal Thank You (Falettinme Be Mice Elf Agin), is as much the birth of the genre as anything James Brown ever recorded, driven as it was by the deliciously washed guitars of Sly and his brother Freddie, and the still-stunning slap bass work of Larry Graham.
As the '70s dawned, though, the band began to fray, with Sly – struggling increasingly with drug abuse – in particular becoming increasingly isolated from the rest of the group. His vision – informed by the aforementioned substance abuse issues and his disillusionment with the more peace-loving end of the counterculture movement of the era – grew darker, and largely alone he created what many consider to be his and the band's opus, 1971's There's a Riot Goin' On.
Recording largely at home with an early drum machine, Sly both took his genre-blending explorations still further and previewed a new method of recording on one's own, free of the pressures and bills of the studio.
There's a Riot Goin' On would go on to produce yet another chart-topping hit, the comparatively downbeat Family Affair, but drug abuse continued to take its toll, and by the mid-'70s, Sly & the Family Stone collapsed.
Though Sly's erratic behavior and performances, and personal struggles, would come to make headlines over the coming decades, his influence on the development of funk, rock, and hip-hop remained unquestioned.
Just this year, Roots drummer and hip-hop icon Questlove directed a documentary, Sly Lives! (aka The Burden of Black Genius), celebrating Stone's life and musical and cultural impact.
“Bless his heart, Sly actually tried to go to taboo territory,” Questlove said of the funk legend in an interview. “He put together this intersectional, interracial band: women, men, Black, white. Sly has one foot in San Francisco with all the hippies and one foot in Oakland with all the gangsters.”
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