Sly,
Your passing is the end of an important chapter of the book of life.
The book of life for many who grew up in the sixties and seventies.
Who grew up with cornrows and afros.
Drinking Kool-Aid.
Who remember when the country was changing.
The Vietnam War raged on.
It was us versus the establishment.
You brought us a new sound.
A beautiful, strange mix of soul, funk, and rock.
You had a woman playing the trumpet!
The band was a mix of Black and White musicians, the first major integrated, mixed-gender rock band.
Sly and the Family Stone looked like a new, better America.
Unified by race and gender.
Your music made us dance.
Made us think.
“Everyday People”
“Stand”
“Dance to the Music”
“Thank You (Falettinme Be Mice Elf Agin)”
“I Want to Take You Higher”
“If You Want Me to Stay”
“You Can Make It If You Try”
Your music was called all kinds of things.
Psychedelic soul.
Funk.
Rock.
To those of us who loved it, loved the band,
Loved you,
It was just music.
Great music.
There was Woodstock.
There were all the great albums.
Great concerts.
Then…you became separated from the music.
It broke our hearts when you became a joke, a punchline.
You disappeared.
We always hoped that one day, you would reemerge with new music.
Music that would thrill and excite us again.
But it never happened.
That hope, the dream that you would do more new things,
Is gone.
It seems sadly fitting that the dreams of a better world,
Dreams of a better America are dead,
Or at least on life support.
But…
Like so many parts of life, the sadness lifts when we listen to you.
Listening to your strong, confident voice.
Listening to your lyrics – the silly and the serious ones.
And we remember better times,
Hoping that they will return.
Sly,
You accomplished a lot in a short amount of time.
Some stars are fixed and shine brightly.
Some stars shoot across the sky and burn out.
Some stars,
The very rare ones,
Still shine, even though they’re gone.
Still burn bright in hearts and minds.
You were one of the greatest.
One of the brightest.
We will remember you when we remember old school dance parties.
Backyard barbecues.
Driving with the radio on.
Dancing with our people.
Dancing by ourselves.
Remembering that we are all everyday people.
Goodnight, Sly.
Goodnight.
That was beautiful!