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Once upon a time, being in a rock band meant, ipso facto, being in a cover band. There are still plenty of cover bands, of course, but the Beatles and especially punk helped move it from being the default. Still, mastering other people’s material before embarking upon one’s own presents its own sort of artistic challenge. Can a group make those songs resemble the originals while still putting their own stamp on them? And can they do it for an entire set?
Before anybody outside the Bay Area knew who they were, Sly and the Family Stone absolutely could. Originally issued as a Record Store Day vinyl exclusive, The First Family: Live at Winchester Cathedral 1967 is documentary proof that Sly and the Family Stone were ready to remake music in their own wild, snazzy image well before they cut their first album: It’s taken from a show recorded in March 1967 — the band’s first LP, A Whole New Thing, was recorded during the summer of ’67 and issued that October.
Aside from the Sly-written opener, “I Ain’t Got Nobody” (which would appear on the second Family Stone album, Dance to the Music, in 1968), on paper the track list resembles a typical, of-its-time soul revue, heavy on recent hits like Otis Redding’s “I Can’t Turn You Loose,” the Four Tops’ “Baby, I Need Your Lovin’” and Joe Tex’s “Show Me.” In aural fact, it’s more like an avalanche, a band bursting at the seams with new ideas, fresh approaches, and a startlingly complete sonic presence. By calendar date, this is the Family Stone in embryo. In aural fact, the band’s concept and execution are close to complete, mainly waiting on the material that would make them huge.
Sly and the Family Stone don’t just play these songs — they take them over, and sometimes even run them over. The band supercharges the hustling southern groove of “Show Me” and breaks it down with a cappella doo-wop vocal roundelays — a look ahead to the jump-cut edits of “Stand!” Ben E. King cut “What Is Soul?” at a driving but moderate tempo; the Family Stone dismantle and rebuild it as a duel between a funereal verse and a frenzied chorus. Even the languid instrumental take on the jazz and blues standard “Saint James Infirmary,” with trumpeter Cynthia Robinson taking the lead, erupts into fizzy, kinetic group interplay.
This tape was originally discovered over 20 years ago, and it has clearly been cleaned up considerably — the vocals are fairly faint on a few numbers — but not distractingly so (particularly after decades of low-fi as a working pop aesthetic). The First Family shows us just how fully formed one of the greatest bands ever was, right at the brink of going public. It’s a major rediscovery.
