Pete Wingfield - Sly Stone: Small Talk lyrics

By Sly's sluggish standards, it's not that long since the last album, Fresh; maybe married life has given him a creative surge. Much the same territory's covered here – a little mellower, happier, more together maybe. Certainly more so than on Riot – the sniffing self-pity of that period has mercifully gone; a couple of cuts even approach the 'up' feel of his early hits. This time out, brother Freddie helps out on the production; Jerry Martini and Cynthia Robinson are still hangin' in there; and soulful Sister Rose, joined by Vet Stewart (a cousin?) luckily gets more vocal action than erstwhile. New faces include drummer Bill Lordan, hornman Pat Rizzo, ba**ist Rusty Allen (though which tracks Sly himself plays ba** on is unclear), and Sid Page, whose deft violin recently, I believe, graced Dan Hicks' Hot Licks – here he comes into his own on the non-too-successful single side 'Time for Livin'. Straight string charts, by one Ed Bogas, whose name must be good for a cheap gag if I could only think of one, enhance the smoother feel of the whole set; and Sly's lyrics, even with the help of enclosed sheet, read as monosyllabically incomprehensible as ever. I'm trying, but it's hard! Things get off to a sticky start with the title track, a simple riff given the dubious benefit of the Stewart offspring's infant noises, which lose their endearing novelty appeal after about twenty seconds. (The track lasts 3 mins, 30 secs). 'Mother Beautiful' is short (1.59) and as sweet as Sly has ever sounded; 'Holdin' On' is a grower, sweet strings over a relentless funk groove and the girls' sanctified wailing; 'Can't Strain My Brain' sports a weird, compelling horn part; there's a lunatic ba** figure on 'Livin' While I'm Livin' '; and you can hear that ole drum machine ticking away regardless on the sloppy starts to some tracks, where Sly's left the song to meander in, studio chat and all. Two great tracks, however, give the album distinction: firstly, a throwback to the Family of old, on a superfunky dance thing called 'Loose Booty', powered by an irresistible chant of 'Shadrack Meshack Abednego' – the words obviously chosen for sound alone – which Epic would be crazy not to put out as a single; and secondly, a total surprise, by way of a delightful excursion into doo-wop nostalgia – 'This Is Love', which closes the album, and leaves you feeling good (background shoo-bup-doo-bups straight out of the Flamingoes song-book). I'm convinced that Sly, were he in control of his considerable faculties at all times, could come up with a whole album up to the standard of these two tracks. Till he does, this'll do fine.