Questlove’s previous music documentary, Summer of Soul, was a fantastic film for going beyond a standard smattering of archival footage and recollection interviews. He goes the extra mile to place you in the era’s mood, evoking every mood to understand the importance of this musical history. For tackling the funk band Sly and the Family Stone, the director once more places us into the world that made this band so iconic. The many hit songs are well known in pop culture, but perhaps not so much the history behind them.

The band’s leader of Sly Stone is delved into for this film as someone flawed with his drug use but revered as a genius with his musical talents. When speaking of his music, many musicians speak highly of his ability to play with beats, dipping in and out of various instruments that made it feel like one song contained three. Sly becomes talked about in the same manner as John Williams, where musical talents speak more melodies than words to describe how amazing it was to listen to this band. It’s perhaps the best way to convey such brilliance. Not everybody knows specific music theory, but they can relate to that spark of inspiration when hearing just the right notes. As one musician who sampled Sly’s material notes, sometimes you hear something so perfect at the right time that you must bolt straight for a studio and hammer out something brilliant.

Of course, there’s a lot of concert footage to give the audience an idea of how well Sly could play in public. They’re stellarly edited around the interviews that divulged the racial scene of the times and the problems Sly encountered behind the scenes. His ability to craft funk during a rocky time for how people looked at black people was impeccable; where he could craft everything from safe songs assured to hits and more experimental tracks that also became hits. The stories told paint Sly as someone who could crank out hit songs as much as he hit the multitude of drugs that came his way. It’s a familiar formula for many hit bands, but Sly’s story was unique for being more of a trailblazer in what is referred to as “black genius,” a term that breeds mixed feelings for those interviewed. As one subject mentions, black genius is worth celebrating when it actually works. In the case of Sly, it did work.

The blunt honesty and loving fondness for Sly make him a fascinating celebrity to hear recalled in interviews and preserved in archival TV interviews of the central figure. By becoming something far more than a heartfelt hagiography, a more complete picture of a funk legend emerges. We get to understand Sly and his world from those who knew him best and editing that best showcases that atmosphere. It’s also just a lot of fun to hear his many immortal songs of “Dance to the Music” and “Everyday People” being performed live, made all the more compelling with the insight and gushing of those inspired.

Sly Lives digs deep into the man, his band, and the world he reshaped with his legendary funk music. I think the film also highlights how well Questlove can direct a musical documentary on a specific figure. Something as sprawling and revelatory as Summer of Soul was a great idea on its face that even if it were poorly executed, the director’s ambition alone would be powerful. But with Sly Lives, he proves that he can handle the familiar and often weary format of the musical documentary centering on one figure and make it sing as more than a collection of jukebox favorites. Questlove doesn’t just want to give you an overview of Sly Stone while playing some of his records but sit you down and giddily divulge the genius musical work, excitedly noting each key point as the music plays in the background. That spark of exuberant celebration is enough to make anybody sit up and listen close.