Sly Lives! (aka the Burden of Black Genius)

As "Sly Lives! (aka the Burden of Black Genius)" (2025 release; 112 min) opens, talking heads are gushing about how revolutionary Sly & the Family Stone was (multi-racial! Multi-gendered! Irresistible music!). The film's director then asks prominent Black artists what they think about the burden of Black genius. We then go to "San Francisco 1964", where Sly is a well-known and beloved DJ. At this point we are 10 minutes into the documentary.

Couple of comments: this is the second documentary from musician Questlove, whose first documentary "Summer pf Love" won the Oscar for best documentary. Here the Roots drummer assesses the life and times of Sly Stone, who in the late 60s shot out of nowhere like a comet to the very top of the music world and stayed there for a couple of years, only then to fade away rather quickly. (Sly & the Family Stone also feature prominently in the "Summer of Soul" documentary.) One of THE highlights for me was to see how the song "Everyday People" evolved from a slow and quiet song in its early stages to the exuberant iconic singalong as we all know it now. The film features tons of obscure footage, as well as plenty of comments from various talking heads (including Sly's 3 children and several of his ex-es). For a couple of years, Sly & the Family Stone ruled the airwaves and the concert scene. As the movie makes clear, with Sly & the Family Stone, there likely would not be Prince & the Revolution. And without "Thank You", there would be no Janet Jackson's "Rhythm Nation". And that's just 2 examples how influential Sly has been. If you have seen "Summer of Soul", one of the finest music documentaries I have ever seen, beware that "Sly Lives!" is quite good, but not the truly gold standard that was/is "Summer of Soul".

"Sly Lives! (aka the Burden of Black Genius) premiered at this year's Sundance Film Festival to immediate acclaim. It started streaming on Hulu just last week, and I watched it the other night. This is currently rated 80% Certified Fresh on Rotten Tomatoes, a tad too generous in my book. All that aside, if you are a fan of Sly Stone, or liked "Summer of Soul", I'd readily suggest you check this out, and draw your own conclusions.

With the recent passing of Sly Stone this lively and engaging documentary is a celebratory tribute to a unique and outstanding talent whose fantastic and profound musical legacy resonates undiminished with time. Produced by The Roots' drummer Ahmir "Questlove" Thompson this hour and a half long jam is as funky as it is revelatory.

Kickstarting with Sly's roots in Texas and his formative years at the San Francisco Bay Area the film let's it all out with a streaming display of images and music as active and as festive as one of the great man's tracks. Starting out with a musical family Sly became a fixture in the SF music scene as a DJ and producer, honing his craft and gaining advantage as an open-minded color blind auteur in a highly segregated America, immersing himself with both black and white influences and benefitting from both. Forming a band of his own to fully bring out his budding musical gifts already in display, The Family Stone had IT from the get go. The musical collective of men and women and black and white had a simpatico chemistry that gelled perfectly to realize Sly's musical vision in sheer auditory bliss. A breathtaking soundstew of Funk, Soul, Rock, Psychedelia, Pop and R&B, no one had heard anything like it. After initial setbacks the band hit the big time and there was no turning back. One of the few genuine crossover artists to capture both the black and white listening world, Sly brought people of various races, cultures and classes together in a time of social and global turbulence. At the height of his fame when he was the perfect figurehead and symbol of a seemingly new era with hit albums, hit singles, television and print appearances and sold out concerts to signify his status the buoyant realism of his music gave way to the dark, withdrawn and isolated sound which perfectly symbolized his well-known descent into drugs leading to future troubles. Late appearances at concerts eventually leading to no attendances at all, departing band members, isolation and the erosion of his talent and relevance led the once shining star into becoming one of the great tragedies of music.

With priceless images and footage to front a rocking soundtrack this party-vibe doc is enhanced by honest and articulate interviews of Sly's family, bandmates, associates and by musical lights influenced by the man as they honestly convey Sly's impact on them. Musical legends like George Clinton, Nile Rodgers, Chaka Khan, Vernon Reid, Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis together with stars of contemporary black music like Andre 3000, D'Angelo and Q-Tip interestingly relate how the music had a deep impact on them inspiring them to create their own lasting legacies.

When I found out Questlove was emceeing this I immediately had my reservations. Judging from his music and his attitude he seems one of those with personal issues that stain his persona and his work. Sure enough here he doesn't disappoint. There's an awkward and cringe-inducing scene where he brings race into the discussion in an interview with D'Angelo and one can see with his reaction he doesn't take too kindly with Q-love's irrelevant and embarrassing take on a subject who embodied the unity of styles, attitudes, cultures and races. The lack of white musical artists who could have been interviewed is telling. "The Burden of Black Genius"? While there's no question that blacks have their own distinct experience with history and how it gave them generally a different perspective from other races, Questlove seems to conveniently bypass the reality and the price of fame to anyone victimized by the onslaught of human adulation and fickleness. Jim Morrison? Janis Joplin? Syd Barrett? Ian Curtis? Kurt Cobain? Perhaps the weight of genius' burden weighs more on whites if we were to bring out the weighing scale to complement Amir's racial hierarchy of woes.

An all-out feast for the senses jamming in direct no frills non-stop action, this in the pocket release is a jubilant and sober memorial to one of the greatest and most innovative musical artists of the 20th Century whose talent and vision magnified and heightened the artistry and power of song. I still remember hearing "Stand!" for the first time and it was a musical revelation the likes of which very rarely comes in one's lifetime. The sheer quality of the music with the various voices both male and female seamlessly outpouring their souls individually or in unison and the different styles blending together in one riveting and awe-inspiring song after song epiphany in sound is one I'll never forget and made me fully realize the heights and peaks music can fully accomplish and achieve. See this.

Follows a very standard bio-doc template... rise-fall-redemption. But I really liked the thread of black genius and the pressure placed on America's very best black performers. Most of the archival interview footage with Sly Stone was really compelling. He has a very good way of expressing himself meaningfully without capitulating to the awful questions people asked him. Right at the midpoint of the film, around the time when Sly Stone's run of genius albums is about to take a darker, inward turn, there is an interview clip of Dick Cavett interviewing Stone, with Cavett being a total, well, dick. Sly's response properly shames Cavett... and all us as well.

This is better than nothing of course and I must say that if it wasn't for quest love, this documentary probably wouldn't have been made. At the same time he ruined to some degree what could've been a stellar documentary. Quest love's personal theory about the burden of being a black genius, doesn't make any sense nor was it needed. Especially when you're trying to push the narrative that Sly was one of the first people to undergo it publicly as if Little Richard and James Brown and Chuck Berry didn't exist. There's a case to be made that the directors views completely contradict that of sly stone and you can clearly see that there's a clash there. I pray to God, someone comes along, and does a better documentary where Sly is telling his own story. The idea that black artists deserve to enjoy the fruits of their labor and die with their kids around them while plenty ignoring that those same black artists were irresponsible with their money and chose drugs over being responsible parents, is trick knowledge.

This is fine and will do the job as placeholder. It's in the standard format of blending clips, stills, archive footage, with contamporaries being interviewed, to take us through a famous life, the ups and downs and perhaps lessons involved.

Here it's Sly Stone, who oould have been a Prince of sorts. Theatric, multifaceted, but it was the civil rights years, and his creative life mirrors that trajectory; ebullient hope to transcend boundaries, to bitterly dashed dreams.

One lesson, and it's generally offered, is that there was no scaffold, blueprint, on which to know what to do build next, how to play the role of superstar. He, along with everybody else, had to make it up as they went along. Another talking point here is 'black' genius, the particular tolls of it in a world where boundaries are drawn starkly against you.

There may be parallels with someone like Brian Wilson; 'genius' in being able to perceive music as visual world, as shared streets you explore, but limited in the means, work, and focused commitment required to consistently bring it to life.

At least his Riot album is as important as anything from the time, a dissonant extended improvisation on previous fabric of soul music, and that as mirroring a dissonant collapsing America. It's probably a cornerstone for all black music that followed.

My own takeaway is of a man who in terms of vision was second to none of the greats of the era; adept at improvising self, savvy enough to be able to see the larger fabric.

But there's no real stage for him to move to, fails to transcend, and probably had plenty of reasons against him. The drugs were probably ways to dissociate, make believe he was what he couldn't summon. So he periodically returns as caricature of himself, clowning it for the camera, unsure how to be the next version of himself.

Meanwhile, just as he was cratering, Bronx and Harlem youths were rediscovering him in record stores, and were about to speak once more about what he used to; the world of stark limits, and yet somehow joyful dance, ironically cruising through cracks. Interestingly, the new music, hip hop, would eschew the whole band format, and pare it down to narrator and rousing, sometimes soulful breaks that suggest world.