I Want to Take You Higher: The Life and Times of Sly and the Family Stone Read Online Free PDF Page B

spontaneous sound of radio in that era, long before corporate depersonalization squelched that sound, was intoxicating
to free spirits like Sly. He was thrilled when Tom Donahue and Bob
Mitchell heard the potential in the Viscaynes' "Yellow Moon" and
afforded the single some time on their drive-time playlists.
    TV was also learning how to rock out as Bay Area baby
boomers of all races flocked to the tapings of Dick Stewart Dance
Party. Prominent in Stewart's early'60s telecasts, alongside future
Playboy Playmate (and future Mrs. Dick Stewart) Barbara Burrus,
was another hiply attractive and likeable youth with great dance
moves, Sylvester Stewart (obviously no relation to the show's
host), who also appeared on Dance Party with the Viscaynes. Sly also frequented live rock shows at San Francisco's Cow Palace,
hosted by radio jocks Donahue and Mitchell under the aegis of
Tempo Productions.

    It may have been at one of these shows that Sly made the fateful acquaintance of the jocks/impresarios. In any case, the DJs, following their ambitions beyond arena shows and the airwaves,
founded a label, Autumn Records, in 1964, and with remarkable
foresight hired the much younger but equally ambitious Sly, who'd
already impressed them as the de facto producer for the Viscaynes.
In Autumn's studio, notes Alec Palao, "He'd be leading the band
on the floor, jumping around, changing the arrangement, directing people. The role of the producer back then wasn't as defined."
And Sly knew his way around a variety of instruments and musical styles. The studio served as a hands-on laboratory for the
twenty-one-year-old Sly to apply his collegiate training in orchestration, to learn the mechanics of taping, microphone placement,
and overdubbing, and to absorb the more subtle craft of songwriting while turning out a marketable product.
    Within a year of signing with Autumn, Sly had proved his
worth by creating the label's biggest hit record. Bobby Freeman
had been one of the first San Francisco rockers (after ballad
crooner Johnny Mathis) to place on the charts, with the playful,
Latinized "Do You Wanna Dance," in 1958. There were lesser follow-up hits, but his "C'mon and Swim," in 1964, qualified as a
dance craze. Bobby has credited Sly as the "composer, producer,
and conductor" of the single and associated album. It happened
this way: the veteran singer had been signed by Tom Donahue and
Bob Mitchell to join in their Cow Palace shows, where Sly was providing production and instrumental duties and eventually leading
the house band, in addition to his job in the recording studio. After
one show, Sly engaged Bobby about his onstage movements, liken ing them to a swimmer's. Performer and producer then brought
their brainstorm back to the studio, forging a gold record that
climbed to the number 5 spot on Billboard's pop and R & B charts,
revived Bobby Freeman's career, secured Autumn Records' reputation, and started to bolster the name and bank account of the
multitalented Sly.

    "He arranged `C'mon and Swim' with exciting breakdowns,"
comments Alec Palao, in reference to the song's periods of danceinducing percussion, a technique later applied pervasively to disco
and hip-hop. "Maybe to our ears they sound kind of cliched, but
[Sly] turned what could have been a pedestrian record into a very
exciting record. He's on top of the groove, and that's a crucial thing
in any form of music." Alec also attributes the Swim's success to "a
little bit of serendipity: the sudden explosion of focus on ...
North Beach and that whole topless thing, which was a very newsworthy thing at the time." The band for "Swim" was basically Joe
Piazza and the Continentals, with whom Sly had played bass in
North Beach venues and who'd earlier backed the Viscaynes. The
group, including future Family Stone saxophonist Jerry Martini,
mutated into the Condors, backing popular featured act George &
Teddy at North Beach's Condor Club, where Sly