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Many classic artists are called "influential," still others frequently tagged "seminal," but few, in fact very few, can inarguably be credited for having changed the course of music. Sly and the Family Stone belongs to that elite club. Not only did they directly shift the direction of contemporaries playing everything from funk to heavy metal, but their sound continues to influence even today, 35 years after their peak.

Probably owing to the erratic nature of their career, if not the creative greed of their label, SATFS have been complied, anthologized and even remixed so many times (their first three albums were even re-released with new covers in the early '70s, as Riot was in the '80s) that their creative progression is largely forgotten. Which is why these new rereleases of the original albums—all with original artwork, and valuable outtakes—are a welcome addition.

No one could really have predicted their ascent in the early '60s when Sylvester Stewart, as "Sly Stone," was a top San Francisco DJ (with a healthy tendency to ignore programming formats) drafted as songwriter/ producer/ A&R man for the tiny Autumn label. The hits he made with Bobby Freeman, the Beau Brummels, the Vejtables, and the Mojo Men were utterly pop efforts, and his own releases (as well as recordings with Sly and the Stoners) were, well... undistinguished.

But Sly obviously had a vision, even if it took a while to gestate. Dismissing the Stoners (except for trumpeter Cynthia Robinson), he brought his younger brother Freddy and sister Rose (inspiring the name...they had once sung gospel together as The Stewart Four) together with gospel-trained bassist Larry Graham and rock (i.e. white) players Greg Errico and Jerry Martini. Their unique look—a sort of coordinated flower-power—and attitude—vocally and instrumentally freeform, but not unstructured—went a long way towards getting them noticed in their first club residencies.

Only San Francisco of all American cities at that time could have nurtured such a color-blind and musically omnivorous group. Though they were never quite "of" the Haight-Ashbury scene, they were certainly in good company with Jefferson Airplane, the Grateful Dead (both of whom made early music for Autumn), Big Brother and the Holding Company, etc.

Still, critics have herniated themselves trying to see much worthwhile in their first album A Whole New Thing. Released in the '67 summer of love, compared to either Dyke and the Blazers or the Doors, you'd be hard pressed to find anything that interesting about it (even if single "Underdog" is okay). It remains the least essential Sly release.

Intriguingly, "Higher" and "Don't Burn Baby" on the second album, the very essential Dance To The Music, were actually recorded prior to Whole and would have improved that record. Regardless, as part of Dance, along with the truly "groundbreaking" title song, and virtually every other track, they make a nearly seamless groove record which probably captures the band's live spirit better than any other. Only the unreleased (until the '90s) "Soul Clappin'," included as a bonus, might have put a cherry on the confection. Another bonus track, their take on Otis Redding's "I Can't Turn You Loose," shows their early penchant for reenvisioning others' songs.

Third album Life showed them grasping in another direction, towards more showbizzy sophistication (in tune with the kitschlust if you will of 1968) as well as acid rock. More confident in its eclecticism—check album closers "M'lady" and "Jane Is A Groupee" back to back for best effect—it's still a bit piecemeal and unsatisfying as a whole, and was largely overlooked at the time, even in the wake of "Dance."

Still, SATFS bounced back even greater with '69's Stand! While critics tend to pronounce the next one, Riot (read on) as Sly's crowning achievement, I would have to argue for this as the real desert island disc in the bunch. Let me just list the tracks in order: "Stand!" "Don't Call Me Nigger, Whitey," "I Want To Take You Higher," "Somebody's Watching You," "Sing A Simple Song," "Everyday People" (their first #1 hit), "Sex Machine" (predating the James Brown hit), "You Can Make It If You Try." As that famous commercial says, "any questions?" This is the album that took them to Woodstock and made them superstars. For the first time, Sly made as much a statement lyrically as musically. As with the previous releases, bonus cuts include mono mixes of the singles (in some cases preferable), as well as a couple worthy outtakes.

The band followed with stunning singles "Hot Fun In The Summertime" and "Thank You (Falletinme Be Mice Elf Agin)" but the album they were presumably intended for never materialized. A "Greatest Hits" was issued by Epic instead, while Sly reacted negatively to superstardom, becoming more regular in his drug use while missing concerts and TV appearances. Getting a label deal for Stoneflower records through Atlantic, he released hypnotically insular singles on his little sister Vaetta's group Little Sister (also uncredited vocal-sweeteners on all the Family Stone records), which have more in common with the Velvet Underground records than any contemporary soul.

Finally in late '71, There's A Riot Goin' On was assembled from the hours and hours of rambling tracks Sly had been recording with, and largely without, the other band members in a Bel Air mansion he'd rented from the Mamas and Papas (those present at sessions included Bobby Womack, Ike Turner, Herbie Hancock, Miles Davis, Billy Preston, though no accurate list of players on the album exists). Riot was fearlessly reflective of its paranoid, antagonistic times, but it remains in many ways inscrutable and unfocused. Regardless, any record that includes "Family Affair," "(You Caught Me) Smilin'" and "Runnin' Away" could be filled with white noise for the remainder and still considered classic.

Behind the scenes, the aptly-named Riot marked the end of the Family Stone as we know it—Errico quit, and Graham was fired soon after (he went on to form the laudable Graham Central Station). Despite its exuberant title and cover shot, 1973's Fresh has the whiff of dissipation in the leave-me-alone vibe of "In Time," "If You Want Me To Stay," "Keep On Dancin'," "Babies Making Babies" and a slow and somnolent cover of "Que Sera Sera."

Sly bounced back again with the following year's Small Talk, the most crafted of the '70s "Family Stone" albums, including the great title song, "Time For Livin'," "Can't Strain My Brain," "Better Thee Than Me" and arguably his final gem, "Loose Booty" (alternate versions of the latter, and "Livin'" are included here, along with two unreleased tracks). But this time it was a relatively small bounce. Stone would continue making erratic albums, guest appearances and random tracks for the next three decades (culminating in an erratic appearance at the2005 Grammys). In fact, "Erratic" may end up being his one-word epitaph.

Still, I'm reminded of the classical myth of Icarus, the boy who fashioned wax wings to fly, but when he got too high, the sun melted them and sent him falling to Earth. One can take a moral of humility from the tale. But I've always imagined young Icky saying "Hey! At least I got up there."

See all Sly And The Family Stone reissues in the Rhino Extended Store

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