#18: Stand!- Sly & The Family Stone

Mike Natale:

Listened to: MP3

This is it. This, right here, is the defining album for funk. After three unsuccessful albums, Stand! truly brought the genius of Sly Stone to the world, a genius which would soon deteriorate due to his rapid and profuse cocaine use. I’ll admit it off the bat, I’m a Sly & The Family Stone fan. And Stand! is one of their best, without a doubt.

Let’s start with the fact that the album opens with “Stand!”, a track that most bands would kill to have written. With the protest song vibe of the Sixties, it’s half call to arms, and half call for confidence. Just stand tall, people, whoever you are. The only cause it asks you to believe in is yourself. It’s such a strong opener, such a strong track, that I to this day will sometimes play it before a gig to get myself into the right energy.

Then we get to one of the more interesting tracks on the album. “Don't Call Me Nigger, Whitey”, from the title, feels like it’s going to be a Black Power anthem, but we soon discover the lyrics are “Don’t call me Nigger, Whitey/ Don’t call me Whitey, Nigger”. In other words, in this otherworldly track Sly created, both forces in this racial battle for who has the right to use racial slurs, almost. Rather than comment on who is wrong or right, Sly tells us that any kind of racism is wrong, and shouldn’t be tolerated. That we must first battle the prejudice within ourselves.
“I Want To Take You Higher” is one of those tracks that has such a life in it, that to dissect it would murder it. Just listen to the majesty of it all. Check out the Woodstock footage, where Sly makes the whole audience erupt into “higher”. It’s a track like this where Sly truly commands whatever room he’s in, even if he’s just a recording.

“Somebody’s Watching You” was one of my least favorite tracks on this album, and even then, it’s terrific. It’s one of the first tracks to use a drum machine, and the first hit to ever do so. That’s pretty god-damn historic. Yeah, I gotta be honest, that’s all I can say about it. Great track, and on any other album by most other artists, it would stand out, but surrounded by the other brilliant tracks, it just doesn’t shine like it should. “Somebody’s Watching You” is a star surrounded by suns.

“Sing A Simple Song” is by far the most infectiously catchy track this album has to offer. It’s just a feel good song, with an undeniably brilliant hook. But it’s when we progress to the next track that everything else becomes a distant memory.

“Everyday People” is, in my opinion, Sly’s greatest composition. It’s a cry for peace in an urban, sensible fashion. Rather than “Come on people now, smile on your brother”, Sly just says “Different strokes for different folks” with a shrug. And that’s how the world should be. Let’s just accept, not convert. You feel different than I do? Ok, agree to disagree. Just listen to that beat, it’s a march, a dance, it reaches into your soul, pulls you up, and tells you it’s ok, just be you, sing it out and be one of the people.

“Sex Machine” is a 13 minute instrumental, a sensual, experimental experience that fuses funk and jazz into genius. Rather than describe it, I’ll just recommend you dim the lights, call someone over, put it on, and thank me later.

“You Can Make It If You Try” is yet another truly uplifting funk track from the band who mastered the art. The stereo mix surrounds you with different tones and voices, making you feel a part of this chorus of encouragement. The album ends as it begins, telling you to get out there and live, god damn it. Be happy, be healthy, love and live.

Sly & The Family Stone is without a doubt in my mind one of the greatest artists in the history of music, and it enrages me to a level a cannot express that they have never gotten the recognition they deserve. Sure, they’re remembered by music geeks and funk fans, but damn it, the fact the Sly doesn’t get the recognition of less talented acts like Kiss or Van Halen is upsetting. Equally upsetting is the discovery I made today that Sly is living in cheap motels on welfare, apparently. How can we as a people pump millions into the financial security of Lil Wayne or T-Pain while a national treasure rots in a deep, personal Tartarus? Why do we as a society say “Hey, thanks for all the great music, see you in hell”? Those who forget the past may be doomed to repeat it, but those who forget this piece of the past are doomed to be trapped forever in auto-tune and hip-whining hell.

So, without a doubt, Stand! is a work of genius. It’s influenced everyone from Prince to Public Enemy, an every track is a powerhouse of optimism, musical brilliance, and funk magic. Every track is a mantra from a brilliant preacher, and every bit of advice is still as useful today as it was the day it came out. And if you disagree, well…different strokes for different folks, I guess.

-Mike
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Nick Young:

Listened to: MP3

This album review has been a long time coming. I knew there would be at least one album on the list of which there was absolutely nothing short of cultural significance to say about it and Sly & the Family Stone’s “Stand!” is that album. Don’t get me wrong, there was a time and a place for “Everyday People,”, but in our culture we’re in about as dire need to recognize that song as we are the lyric “some folks are born made to raise the flag, ooh they’re red, white and blue.” The point is- we get it already. We know the album was once important. Stop drawing attention to it.* Luckily selling magazines is not a priority of mine, so I’m here to talk about the music. With that in mind, I can think of an album from a band that’s criminally underrated in our time.

Should Be Replaced With: The National: Alligator

“Alligator” is the king of slow burners. Most people’s record collections are sorely lacking when it comes to this department. The yearning for instant satisfaction is understandable and easily attainable, but how we do really grow from an album like “Stand!”? Staying power means a lot to me. I enjoy complexity, as long as it’s filtered through my reassuring sense of humor. Vocalist / songwriter Matt Berninger made overwhelmingly clear the expectations of a lasting song in his interview with Pitchfork staff member Stephen M. Deusner when he said:

“I think that one thing that I was trying do with Alligator is cut out any lyrics that sounded like obvious statements or big lyrical ideas. The big ALL CAPS lines or lyrics only sound good once. They might make sense and sound right for one day, then you'd realize that it's just not quite true, not quite right, that the truth is a little mushier than that. As far as lyrics go, the mushy lines are a little bit...well, they could be interpreted a few different ways; meanings could move around a little bit. So the whole record is kinda like that a little bit. There are love songs on there that are slipping out of positive and negative and confusion, and there are little bits of political stuff that are neither positive nor negative.”

That’s ultimate satisfaction there if I’ve ever heard it. To me, “Alligator,” is the sound of the triumphant descent into adulthood. The album is adorned with the same eerie aura that Wilco’s “Yankee Hotel Foxtrot” wears, only it’s even more oblique. It’s just too mysterious to be written off into the Sky Blue Sky genre “dad-rock.” This is my album, documenting my uncertain rise from the annals of adolescence. It’s an album made for uncertain but curious adults by uncertain but curious adults. When listening to this album, we understand that we are the heirs to the glimmering world.

Every single track is dense, intricate and beautiful. Its byzantine structure encourages repeated listenings (as is the case with its gorgeous follow-up album “The Boxer”). In other words, this album is pretty goddamn good.

The opening track catches you right away. Though it may not sound very appetizing coming through your at-home computer speakers, with ear-buds this song can literally take you into the basement of your brain. When I listen to it I feel as though I’m being transported into Berninger’s view of the world. It’s a beautiful place to be. Take this ubiquitous little verse for example, “I know you put in the hours to keep me in sunglasses.” It could mean any number of things, and that’s the beauty of it. Beringer’s indirect delivery is what keeps the album afloat through its Veckatimist-before there-was-Veckatimist instrumented duration. Highlights include stellular schizophrenic ditty “Friend of Mine” (tell me you’re not going get the “I’m getting nervous” part stuck in your head).

Every starry-eyed song on the album is fantastic, but my absolute favorite is “The Geese of Beverly Road,” which just has to be heard to be appreciated. It speaks for our generation. The link to the song has already been formatted into the text, but here it is again in case you missed it.

* I find it hilarious that Tom Waits tallied up a whopping zero votes in the most overrated artist category. If you don’t get the joke then there really isn’t anything I can do to help you.

So, check back tomorrow for #8: London Calling by The Clash, plus a special bonus piece from Nick and I.