Sly & the Family Stone 2007

Opera House, Boscombe

sly.jpg.galleryJames Brown worked harder and longer, George Clinton put on bigger, wilder shows, but nobody working the funk-rock lodestone was madder or badder than Sly Stone.

It’s no exaggeration to say he changed the course of modern music, taking a pinch of white and pinch of black to make a movin’, groovin’ flavour.

But the price he paid was to fry his mind, surrendering the last 35 years (at least) to intense paranoia and off-the-scale, drug-induced madness.

That he is fit enough to be on a stage at all is reason to be thankful.

That he ended up in Bournemouth on a six-date world tour is just plain strange. But there it is.

Accompanied by original Family Stone alumni Cynthia Robinson (trumpet) and little sister Vet Stone (vocals) – which, alongside the powerful voice of her niece Lisa, ensured the new band is still very much a family affair – Sly’s penchant for the erratic almost managed to trip the whole thing up.

Anyone with any sense wouldn’t have expected a great deal out of Sly – even for 40 quid a ticket – and they wouldn’t have been disappointed.

On stage an hour late, the band served up arresting versions of Dance To the Music, Everyday People and Hot Fun in the Summertime before disintegrating into a maelstrom of malfunctioning mics that dried up the last reserves of goodwill and prompted the first boos.

Finally, we saw Sly for muted takes on If You Want Me to Stay as well as Sing a Simple Song.

His voice is shot, he can’t really play the keys any more, but you couldn’t take your eyes off his coat of flashing lights and the perma-grin facial gurns.

As their leader returned to the shadows, the band smothered the next song, making Sly’s return for Stand and I Wanna Take You Higher an unlikely source of relief.

That he capped his appearance with endless posing for cameras and a foolhardy dive offstage only added extra strangeness to a night that was already surreal, squared.

More people booed at the end and this was far from vintage stuff.

At times it felt like a tribute show, but we saw more of Sly Stone than hardly anyone has done for 20 years.

Trouble is, I can’t help feeling we’re better off with his records and leaving this tortured soul man to his own world.

• Photo by Grant Read

• First published in Bournemouth Echo.

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