In June 2025, the music world lost one of its most enigmatic and influential figures: Sly Stone, the visionary artist who fused funk, soul, and rock into a sound that would reverberate through generations. Stone, whose real name was Sylvester Stewart, died at the age of 82, leaving behind a legacy that is as complex as it is groundbreaking. According to Celebrity Net Worth, at the time of his death, Stone’s net worth stood at $500,000—a modest sum for an artist whose creativity helped shape the soundtrack of the 1960s and 1970s. But as anyone familiar with Stone’s story knows, numbers rarely tell the whole tale.
Stone’s passing came just as a new wave of music documentaries was capturing the attention of fans and critics alike. On December 24, 2025, Uncut magazine published its list of the top 10 music documentaries of the year, with one entry standing out for its timely resonance: SLY LIVES! THE BURDEN OF BLACK GENIUS, directed by Ahmir “Questlove” Thompson. The film is both a celebration of Stone’s extravagant imagination and a meditation on the unique challenges faced by black artists in America during the tumultuous decades of the 1960s and 1970s.
Questlove, who previously won acclaim for his documentary Summer Of Soul, brings a deeply personal and inquisitive eye to the subject of Sly Stone. The film is packed with incredible archival footage of Stone on and off the stage, painting a vivid portrait of a man whose genius was as dazzling as it was difficult to contain. As Uncut describes, the documentary is “thought-provoking and deeply felt,” though it notes that the film’s two narrative threads—Stone’s creative brilliance and the societal burdens he bore—don’t always mesh seamlessly. Still, the effect is powerful, inviting viewers to reflect on what it means to be both black and brilliant in a society that often struggles to recognize, let alone nurture, such talent.
Stone’s life was marked by both public triumphs and private struggles. With his band, Sly and the Family Stone, he crafted hits that remain staples of American music: "Everyday People," "Dance to the Music," and "Family Affair," among others. His influence can be heard in the work of countless artists, from Prince to the Red Hot Chili Peppers. Yet, as the definition of the word "sly" itself suggests—playfully artful, mischievous, and sometimes secretive—Stone’s story is one of both dazzling creativity and elusive truth.
For those who knew him or followed his career, Stone was the embodiment of musical cunning. He was, as Oxford Advanced Learner’s Dictionary might put it, “clever or cunning, especially in the practice of deceit.” But in Stone’s case, that slyness was often a tool for survival, a means of navigating an industry and a society that could be as treacherous as it was rewarding. As Uncut notes, Questlove’s documentary “examines the very particular challenge of being black and brilliant in ’60s/’70s America,” a time when the mainstream was only just beginning to open its doors to artists of color, and not always willingly.
Stone’s financial situation at the end of his life—reportedly $500,000—has prompted some to reflect on the music industry’s long history of undervaluing black artists. Despite his revolutionary impact and enduring popularity, Stone never achieved the financial security that might have seemed his due. It’s a story that echoes those of other black musicians who, despite their immense contributions, struggled to retain control over their work and their earnings. The question lingers: how many more artists of Stone’s caliber have been similarly shortchanged?
The release of SLY LIVES! THE BURDEN OF BLACK GENIUS comes at a moment when the music documentary is enjoying something of a renaissance. Uncut’s list of the year’s best films includes portraits of other legends and unsung heroes: We Are Fugazi From Washington, DC, a fan-driven celebration of the band’s live power; S/He Is Still Her/E, an absorbing study of Genesis P-Orridge; Ozzy Osbourne: No Escape From Now, which offers a moving look at the icon’s final hurrah; and The Session Man, a tribute to Nicky Hopkins, whose piano graced albums by The Rolling Stones and The Beatles.
There’s also Becoming Led Zeppelin, featuring in-depth interviews with the surviving members of the legendary band; One to One: John and Yoko, which explores Lennon and Ono’s New York years; Broken English, an unconventional film about Marianne Faithfull; It’s Never Over, Jeff Buckley, a human portrait of the late singer; and Soundtrack to a Coup D’Etat, an Oscar-nominated study of the CIA’s use of jazz musicians as soft power during the Cold War. Each of these films, in its own way, grapples with questions of legacy, influence, and the burdens that come with genius.
But it’s Questlove’s documentary on Sly Stone that feels especially poignant in the wake of Stone’s death. The film doesn’t shy away from the contradictions that defined its subject: the exuberant performances and the quiet withdrawals, the bursts of innovation and the periods of silence. Viewers are treated to rare glimpses of Stone both onstage, commanding audiences with his signature blend of funk and soul, and offstage, where the weight of expectation and the realities of fame often took their toll.
Stone’s slyness—his ability to keep his feelings and intentions hidden, to deceive in a clever way—was both a gift and a curse. It allowed him to outmaneuver a music industry that was often stacked against him, but it also isolated him from those who might have helped. As the dictionary definition notes, being sly is “being deceitful, though not in the worst way.” For Stone, that slyness was a survival strategy, a way to protect his art and his spirit in a world that wasn’t always kind.
In the end, Sly Stone’s legacy is secure—not just in the songs that continue to inspire, but in the stories that are still being told about his life and work. As Questlove’s documentary reminds us, genius is rarely uncomplicated, and the burdens it brings can be as heavy as the accolades. Yet for all the challenges he faced, Stone’s music remains a testament to the power of creativity, resilience, and, yes, a little bit of slyness.
As new generations discover his work—on the sly or out in the open—Sly Stone’s influence endures, a reminder that true innovation is never easy, but always worth celebrating.
