Marchin' On: Sly and the Family Stone, Yaya Bey, and 8 More Great New Records

As we have noted in many posts, the 6OGs are middle aged white guys living in DC, most of us current or former federal workers, or working and living in worlds filled with federal workers. It’s dark, and the climate here in general feels dark and depressing and uncertain, even with sunnier weather. Perhaps something meaningful will come to be on the other side, but from where are, it’s hard to perceive.

As middle aged white guys, we are, it seems, the intended beneficiaries of some of these efforts to kill DEI. But that’s not who we are. So, as we always do in hard times, we turn to music. And happily, there has been a steady stream of great music and live shows to keep us moving ahead.

And notably, most of it seems to be coming from non-white guys. Call these DEI selections or whatever else you like, but from where we sit, these are simply the most qualified records (and documentaries) for your listening attention.

New album(s): I’ll be honest and say that I just don’t seem to have the attention for a full album review these days. It’s in the air. I am restless in what I listen to and clearly in what I feel called to write. So let’s start with another list of 8 great new albums. As noted above, they all come from non-white guys and hit an array of genres.

• Horsegirl - Phonetics On and On — In our last full post, it was Lambrini Girls. This time, it’s Horsegirl. In each case, the band is a trio of women producing my favorite record of the moment. This is a Chicago band (though two of the three went to NYU and wrote a lot of the songs while in school there) of indie rock musicians — who met at a School of Rock during high school - making what feels like a perfect version of melodic indie that veers between post-punk and twee, somehow capturing the perfect balance of each. Since this record came out, I have not stopped listening to it. The two catchiest songs, “2468” and “Switch Over,” are the least lyrically developed; “2468 consists mainly of the lines “they walk in twos” and “da da da da,” and “Switch Over” is “switch over/switch off” and, again, a lot of “da da da da.” Both songs swing and move to a degree that you’re carried by the wordless vocals into the next tracks. The harmonies among the two main singers, Nora Cheng and Penelope Lowenstein, are infectious but never overtake the music. Even when there are more lyrics in a song, they remain simple and direct. Many critics are attributing that to the production of Cate Le Bon, but to me, it feels innate to the connection of the players more than a production choice. In an endearing track about two would-be lovers who can’t quite bring themselves to speak to each other called “Well I know you’re shy,” these lyrics form the emotional core — “Think of you/well I can’t sleep when I do/look through my window.” It’s not Joni Mitchell, but it doesn’t need to be; for me, it’s even better right now.

• Oddly - Swerve — This indie noise band from Kyoto, Japan released its debut album in February after a few EPs since 2020. Labelmates on Damnably Records with other Japanese and Korean standout noise acts like Say Sue Me, Drinking Boys and Girls Choir, and Otoboke Beaver, Oddly produce the same guitar-soaked intensity. “Alligator” is a call and response-style song with guitars (both during the verses and in the solos) and drums that sound reminiscent of Superchunk in the early 90s. The rest of the record feels like a tour through 90s guitar — Smashing Pumpkins and later Soundgarden included - and then the closer, “Rent for Mark,” provides a sweet-sounding if lyrically dark (unlike other bands from the region, Oddly sings in English), mostly acoustic closer that shows what more this band has to offer.

• Caroline Rose - year of the slug — Caroline Rose has been churning out fantastic indie and indiepop records for years. And when she opens her new record with a track called “Everything in Its Right Place,” you knows she’s setting herself up for a massive lift. And both the song and the record deliver. The tracks range widely in style, sound, and subject but hold together in a reflection of the world we inhabit in 2025. “Goddam Train” comes in the middle of the record and is in a way the linchpin, a 2-minute, giddy-up-tempo, self-knowing screed taking its cue from mid-60s Dylan against modern expectations. It is then followed by “antigravity struggle,” which channels the sound of the Cowboy Junkies’ cover of “Sweet Jane,” and gives into the way life brings us down: “morning, draw the curtain to the bath/take all your dreaming/pour it out into a glass/respect the process of fading out fast.” The record remains upbeat overall, though, and reveals more depth with every spin.

• Jupiter & Okwess - Ekoya — I called Jupiter & Okwess “Congo’s Best Band” in 2023, and their return in 2025 simply confirms that. With a new album recorded mainly in Mexico City and incorporating a range of Latin sounds and guests. The DRC is going through (yet another) tragic crisis, and this is another album from Jupiter & Okwess reminding us of the resilience and joy of the Congolese people, who are more than the minerals and conflict that the headlines would tell you they are.

• The Altons - Heartache in Room 14 — A neo-soul band from Oakland bathed in Latin influences. This album is slow, well-crafted, and silky smooth, and when you feel like you need to turn the lights off and instead ignite a few candles and grab a drink, put this record on as the soundtrack.

• [bryson the alien] - IN SPACE… — Hiphop is not the first genre we think of when we hear “Portland,” but this record channels the indie and punk ethos of the city into a chill and lyrically deft journey. Technically this came out last year, but it started to circulate more this year, so I count it. The opening track is called “Plug One,” and the second track samples Louis Armstrong; that should tell you all you need to know.

• Dead Gowns - It’s Summer, I Love You, and I’m Surrounded by Snow — The other Portland checks in with a gorgeous and also often haunting album of indie folk and, at times, louder alternative rock anthems. The project of Genevieve Beaudoin, when you need to come back to earth from The Altons and bryson the alien, the guitars and vocals of Dead Gowns will get your feet back on the ground.

• Miles Cooke - ceci n’est pas un portrait — The Brooklyn MC has a potent and memorable voice, and the album is every bit the journey that a Magritte painting is (the album title being a riff on a famous painting by the Belgian surrealist). The samples and underlying music range in genres, but Miles’ gritty tone remains captivating throughout the whole record. The second track, “The Book of Job Part II” should give you a sense of the lyrical content, especially as the bars are laid over an airy classical piano sample. (Brad)

  

Album from an upcoming/recent show: Ten Fold by Yaya Bey. “If I never do another fuckin' thing from today/Well, I'm still a fuckin' winner 'cause I did it my way.” Those are the opening lines to “sir princess bad bitch,” one of only two-and-a-half songs Yaya Bey played at a January show at DC’s Songbyrd as a benefit for reproductive rights. And she embodies those lyrics in a way that deserves a brief note, if not a full album review (mainly I want you to read Brian’s review of Sly below).

Yaya Bey’s music is a perfect version of mid-2020s R&B and soul, and this record is solid all the way through. I honestly don’t know the sub-genre well enough to analyze it critically, but Yaya Bey gave one of the most memorable non-performances I have ever seen.

As mentioned, the show was a benefit for reproductive rights, one of innumerable issues in need of more financial support and political energy in 2025. The earlier artists all did their part to ask attendees to donate above and beyond the ticket price, and there were some memorable moments with acts like Clear Channel (whose singer wore some very brave short shorts) and Flowers for the Dead playing outstanding mini-sets and generating thousands of dollars.

Then Yaya Bey came on as the headliner. And although each act was playing 4-5 songs total, she managed less because she had a message: we can’t just take to the streets or raise money when white people, or in this case white women, are scared. After “sir princess bad bitch” and “chrysanthemums,” yaya stopped the show to lecture the crowd for 5-7 minutes to remind everyone that women of color have had their reproductive rights abused and taken away for centuries. And that while it’s nice to get mad when these policies are made official, we will never succeed if we are only able to stand up when white liberals feel scared.

And after the second such lecture, she just left the stage.

The benefit had been a joyous one, and this set definitely left everyone uncertain and anxious and perhaps a bit sheepish. Which was exactly the right framing. Sometimes an artist needs to wake the crowd up, to wake the public up with a reminder that what we are experiencing is not new, and that the white majority has long ignored the experience of people of color, especially women. And until we open our hearts to that reality, we will continue to make the same mistakes.

“And one day, we're all going to bloom/See the thing about flowers is, they often bloom/And one day, that one day is soon/Can you feel it in your heart, babe?/The Promise of you?”

These are the core lyrics to “chrsyanthemums’” may it soon be so for all of us. (Brad)

Album being rediscovered (at least 10 years old): There’s a Riot Goin’ On by Sly & the Family Stone. Like I’m sure many of you do, I enjoy great music documentaries and concert films. In some cases, you get the “warts and all” treatment that bands would prefer to keep hidden (for example, “Some Kind of Monster” and “Dig!”). Others go the route of hagiography or career summation, following the example of the movie that set the standard for the modern concert film, “The Last Waltz” (too many of today’s “documentaries” take this idea to an absurd extreme and are more like self-produced advertisements touting the greatness of the film’s subject, but that’s a topic for another time). Some films – like “Don’t Look Back” or “The Velvet Underground” – pursue an artier route to create an immersive experience for the audience. Lastly, you might get a film chronicling a concert or other major event, historically best typified by the 1970 film “Woodstock.”

One of my favorite recent music docs (and, notably, the first movie I saw in a theater post-COVID shutdown) is 2021’s “Summer of Soul (…Or, When the Revolution Could Not Be Televised).” Directed by Ahmir “Questlove” Thompson, the movie follows the “Woodstock” model by covering the 1969 Harlem Cultural Festival, which took place over six weekends that summer, one of which coincided with the much more highly publicized event at Max Yasgur’s farm (a dichotomy addressed much better in “Summer of Soul” than I could do here – see the movie if you haven’t already). Of the many great performances captured in that film, I’d argue that Sly & the Family Stone’s “Everyday People” was among the most memorable (Sly & the Family Stone gave what was also considered one of the standout performances at Woodstock). When promoting “Summer of Soul,” Questlove frequently spoke of his admiration for Sly Stone and his desire to make a film about the gifted musician.

Fast forward to 2025, and Questlove released “Sly Lives! (aka the Burden of Black Genius),” a documentary about Sly Stone featuring current interviews with former bandmates and musicians influenced by Stone, along with footage of old performances and recording sessions, and archived interviews of Stone himself (who did not participate in the movie). The film is good, albeit with a familiar rise-fall-rise “Behind the Music” vibe, but it helped me learn more about an artist whose story I should have been more familiar with beyond his “Freedom Rock” classics like “Dance to the Music” and the aforementioned “Everyday People” and his influences on artists ranging from George Clinton to Prince to A Tribe Called Quest, along with many others. It also led me to further explore an album that served as a musical, thematic and collaborative turning point for Sly & the Family Stone – There’s a Riot Goin’ On.

Released in 1971, There’s a Riot Goin’ On represented a shift away from the hippie utopia sound of their previous releases. The music is both darker and funkier, with lyrics that express skepticism toward the ideals of the previous decade’s latter half. It was also the first album that Stone recorded largely on his own and one of the earliest examples of using a drum machine in recording. The album was a reflection of many changes in Stone’s life – his involvement with the Black Panther Party, his disillusionment after numerous civil rights era assassinations, and his increased use of cocaine and PCP. Even the album’s title marked a more aggressive turn for Stone, in that it was a direct response to Marvin Gaye’s classic What’s Going On, released earlier that same year.

The lead single, “Family Affair,” reached number one on the Billboard Hot 100 and R&B charts. Stone played most of the instruments and programmed the drum machine, while the only member of the Family Stone on the track was his sister Rose, providing vocals (the song also featured contributions by Billy Preston on electric piano and Bobby Womack on guitar). The sound is noticeably different from their earlier hits, with the drum machine and electric piano maintaining a tight groove that rises above the other instruments. (Contrast with “Everyday People,” in which the full band members’ parts all fit together like a jigsaw puzzle.) And Sly’s muted vocals reflect his darker lyrics (“You can’t cry ‘cause you’ll look broke down / But you’re cryin’ anyway ‘cause you’re all broke down”). Heavy stuff for a number one hit.

“Runnin’ Away” was the second single from There’s a Riot Goin’ On and, though it prominently features Rose Stone as the lead vocalist, the sensibilities are all early ‘70s Sly. The jaunty, playful soul tune gives cover for a pessimistic outlook that almost taunts the listener (“The deeper in debt the harder you bet / Hee hee hee hee / You need more room to play / Look at you, fooling you”). From Sly’s perspective, if you run away to get away, you’ll just be “wearing out your shoes.”

The supremely funky “(You Caught Me) Smilin’” was the third track released as a single. The song starts off deceptively seductive and features an expertly performed bass-and-horn interlude at its center, but by the end the lyrics reveal both the singer’s denial about himself (“You caught me smilin’ again / I ain’t down”) and his state of mind (“You caught me smilin’ again / In my pain / I’ll be sane to take your hand”). These themes focusing on Stone’s mental state carry over on the blues-funk of “Just Like a Baby” (“Sometimes I cry / Just like a baby / I can feel it when you lie to me / Just like a baby”). In hindsight, they sounds less like flirting and more like a warning, or maybe a plea.

“Brave & Strong,” with a drum machine beat later sampled by the Beastie Boys on “3-Minute Rule,” continues the album’s lyrical theme of having to live in, navigate, and potentially fight your way through a stacked system (“Frightened faces to the wall / Oh, can’t you hear your mama call? / The brave and strong survive, oh yeah / When you walk / Know where you’re walking”). And yet, the song is also a perfect example of Stone’s musical genius. The listener should be drawn to the obvious pain and anger in his voice, but instead is grabbed by the infectious rhythm with layers of funky guitars and horns. The message gets through under cover of funk.

Speaking of samples, you can hear the drum machine beats of “Poet” on De La Soul’s “Description” off of their 1989 classic debut 3 Feet High and Rising. And when I hear the lyrics on “Poet” (“My only weapon is my pen / And the frame of mind I’m in”) I think of it not only as Stone’s statement of purpose for the album, but also as inspiration for Chuck D when he crafted powerful rhymes on songs like “Welcome to the Terrordome” (“When I get mad / I put it down on a pad / Give you somethin’ that you never had”).

Perhaps the most interesting song on the album us the final track, “Thank You for Talkin’ to Me, Africa.” The song is a slower, stripped-down, bass-heavy, extended, anguished version of “Thank You (Falettinme Be Mice Elf Agin).” The lyrics at the start (“Lookin’ at the devil / Grinnin’ at his gun / Fingers start shakin’ / I begin to run”) and later on (“Mama’s so happy / Mama start to cry / Papa still singin’ / We can make it if we try”) hit very differently than on the faster-paced original version, which was released as a single between the 1969 album Stand! and There’s a Riot Goin’ On. On the earlier single, it’s the sound of someone overcoming difficulty and clinging to the idea of being hopeful. The newer version, however, takes those same words and makes them haunting and cynical. (Side note: the guitar riff from the original version was sampled by Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis for Janet Jackson’s “Rhythm Nation.”)

In my early days discovering music, Sly & the Family Stone seemed like a relic of the flower-child ‘60s. To me, they didn’t seem to transcend the hippie movement like Bob Dylan or The Band. Sly Stone’s musical prowess wasn’t as obvious to a guitar-rock-obsessed kid as that of Jimi Hendrix (listening to Living Colour in the ’80s, the influence of Hendrix, Jimmy Page, and other early ‘70s guitar gods on Vernon Reid was clear, but Stone’s influence – as Reid explains in great detail in the documentary – was also very much there). Of course, race played a factor in Sly Stone’s long-term cultural relevance; to say the music industry has long had a complicated relationship with Black artists is an understatement. Stone isn’t the first rock star to have issues with substance abuse, but his decision to live a mostly reclusive life even after getting clean and sober couldn’t have helped.

In the end, Questlove was right – Sly & the Family Stone were deserving of more attention, more widespread acclaim. They were more than just another name on the “Freedom Rock” compilation (turn it up, man!). Even if I didn’t realize it at the time, I was already listening to them on my favorite hip hop and funk albums (hell, I could even make the case that my beloved Two-Tone ska bands owe a debt to Sly), not to mention the clear influence on my wife’s favorite artist, Prince.

While I wish the “Sly Lives!” documentary was a little less formulaic, it served its purpose by teaching me more about Sly & the Family Stone and encouraging me to dive deep into There’s a Riot Goin’ On. The album’s repudiation of the hippie aesthetic – which, frankly, as a young ‘80s punk rock fan I always found a little eye-rolling – is both fascinating and stunning, and its proto-funk served as a template for decades of music yet to come. Unfortunately, the bleak messaging on There’s a Riot Goin’ On is as relevant today as it was in 1971, maybe even more so given how far we thought we’d come. (Brian)