LP Review: High on You
Previous LP: Small Talk (C+)
Next LPs: Some late ‘70s mediocrity
Released: 1975
LP Charts: #11 R&B, #45 pop
By 1975, Sly Stone was basically running all the original members of Sly & the Family Stone out the door. Only trumpeter Cynthia Robinson, saxophonist Jerry Martini, and guitarist Freddie Stone remained of the original configuration.
Given the band’s atrophy, Sly Stone finally decided to do a solo album. However, it’s really a Sly & the Family Stone release. Sly had been in dictatorial control of the band since 1970 anyways, so the titular change was just cosmetic at this point.
Anyhoo, High on You was a rather naked commercial appeal from Sly where he finally dropped the moody sludge funk of the preceding three albums.
The sudden shift back toward the musical maninstream is most successful on the album-opener and almost-title track “I Get High On You” (#3 R&B, #52 pop). For the first time in ages, the vocals are crystal clear. And the fantastic bass guitar anchors the funky song. Great to know Sly could still put out a dance track after essentially eschewing the concept for nearly five years.
More boogie is to be found on “Crossword Puzzle”, which even has a hint of disco to it. The instrumental “Green Eyed Monster Girl” is also a fine listen. Not every funk/dance track is as pleasant. “Who Do You Love?” is particularly grating.
On the non-dance front, “That’s Lovin’ You” finds Sly making a fairly standard midtempo R&B love song. “Le Lo Li” is pure silliness. There’s also a half-hearted protest song (“Organize”) and the annoying “Greed”, which is performed like a nursery rhyme.
ALBUM GRADE: C
If this review seems slight, well it reflects the material at hand. Sly certainly lowered his ambitions on this album and hit the mark.
Song Scores
I Get High On You: 7/10
Crossword Puzzle: 7/10
That’s Lovin’ You: 6/10
Who Do You Love?: 3/10
Green Eyed Monster Girl: 6/10
Organize: 5/10
Le Lo Li: 5/10
My World: 5/10
So Good To Me: 5/10
Greed: 3/10
Previous LP: Small Talk (C+)
Next LPs: Some late ‘70s mediocrity