Album Review: Sly and the Family Stone – The First Family: Live at Winchester Cathedral 1967

The history of music is filled with brilliant yet deeply troubled artists. Syd Barrett. Brian Wilson. Roky Erickson. Skip Spence. Arthur Lee. Emitt Rhodes. Bill Evans. I’m sure readers can think of others. And Sly Stone certainly belongs on that list. More importantly, he was responsible for some of his era’s best music, and made groundbreaking strides leading a group that was multi-ethnic and multi-gender. When considering him, It’s easy to allow his troubles to overshadow his accomplishments. But doing so does a great disservice to him, his legacy and to music in general.

And despite the surfeit of failed so-called “comebacks” in his post Family Stone years, the release of a Sly and the Family Stone live set from the dawn of their career helps remind us of the greatness of the man and his band. The First Family: Live at Winchester Cathedral 1967 is that set. It captures the group on the cusp of breaking out, a time when none of the aforementioned issues factored into the music.

Signed to Epic Records, the group released its debut album A Whole New Thing in October 1967. That set had been recorded during June through September of that year. This newly released live set predates the beginning of those sessions by nearly three months. But hearing the powerful and assured performance, it’s clear that much of the group’s sound and character was, if not fully-formed, nearly all in place.

The set opens with what Sly tells the audience is an original tune, “I Ain’t Got Nobody (for Real).” The tune would surface on the band’s second album, the hastily-made Dance to the Music from April ‘68. It’s not one of the Family Stone’s better-known tunes, and that in and of itself is surprising. It’s full of energy and style, and it’s very very similar to another hit from another Bay Area band: Santana’s “No One to Depend On” from 1971. (To be fair, Santana’s song is based on a Willie Bobo tune from ‘65, so maybe Sly heard that and was influenced by it as well, just earlier.)

In any event, the vocal harmonies, the horn charts and the crack rhythm section are all tight as can be imagined. With a deep groove led by Sly and his churchy organ. The audio quality is a bit dodgy – this is clearly an audience tape, after all – with Sly’s vocals a bit muffled. But the vibe comes through, and the historical import of the recording renders fidelity criticisms moot.

“Skate Now” includes elements that would show up on later hits from the band. Here those vocalisms might seem a bit overdone, but from the crowd reaction, it worked well in the live context. The band never lets up even for a second; Greg Errico’s pounding drum work pushes, pushes, pushes the band forward. “Show Me” combines the fervor of Otis Redding with the funk of James Brown, adding some tasty rock licks from Brother Freddie Stone.

This release is also notable for its inclusion of songs that never surfaced on studio albums. A fiery reading of Ben E. King’s “What is Soul?” is one of those. A cover of Otis Redding’s “I Can’t Turn You Loose” is superb, delivering insistent, deep groove soul. And those horns! “Try a Little Tenderness” is included on the CD version of this release, but left off the vinyl LP to keep the fidelity from suffering. And honestly, though it’s fine enough, if one tune had to be cut, this would be the one: it only really takes off about four minutes in.

“Baby I Need Your Lovin’” might seem an odd choice for the group, but they make it their own. It’s virtually unrecognizable as The Four Tops’ hit from 1964. “Pucker Up Buttercup” is a brief and mostly instrumental rave-up that gives Cynthia Robinson (trumpet) and Jerry Martini (sax) a chance to step out front.

A seven-minute take on the jazz standard “St. James Infirmary” is a study in subtlety for its first five minutes; a thunderous drum solo leads into a full-band jam for the final minute-plus. The set ends with a medley of “I Gotta Go Now (Up on the Floor)” and “Funky Broadway.” The first tune’s vibe is reminiscent of the full-throttle soul coming out of Los Angeles via groups like Thee Midniters. The latter hits hard, emphasizing the precision and power of Sly and the Family Stone.

Anyone who appreciates The Family Stone’s music – and can handle mid-fi audio quality – needs to hear this set. Alec Palao’s essential liner notes – and a whole bunch of photos, many from the actual gig itself – are in a fantastic 24pp booklet included with the record.