I went to see the Funk Brothers and the Family Stone Experience in Washington Park back on May 14. It was great, but it got me to thinking: When personnel changes in a rock group, can it still be considered that group? There were, last I knew, TWO splinter groups from Sly and the Family Stone, both with original members. Since NEITHER includes Sly, there’s no issue of being the real thing. But there have been other bands during the years that have had more complicated issues.
The Beatles: When the Beatles broke up in 1970, it was considered “Paul’s fault” in some circles. After all, he had the audacity to put out his first solo album at about the same time as Let It Be. (Even though the others had all released solo discs earlier.) And he had different management (the Eastmans, Linda’s kin) than the others (Allen Klein). There was a widespread rumor at the time that the Beatles would re-form with Lennon, Harrison, Starr, Billy Preston (keyboardist on Get Back) and Klaus Voorman (designer of the Revolver album cover) on bass. Would they have been accepted as “The Beatles”? I seriously doubt it. They could survive the switch from Pete Best to Ringo Starr on the cusp of their stardom, but as the icons they became, there could be no substitutes.
The Rolling Stones: Mick Jagger, Keith Richards, Brian Jones, Charlie Watts, and Bill Wyman was the line-up, with Ian Stewart as session and tour keyboardist. In June of 1969, guitarist Jones quit the group, quickly replaced by Mick Taylor. (Jones died a month later.) Taylor left in December of 1974; Ronnie Wood played (on loan from the Faces) on the 1975 tour, and the following year is installed as a permanent member. Bassist Wyman calls it quits in 1994. It seems that the Rolling Stones will survive as long as the Glimmer Twins (Jagger, Richards) continue to perform. With a new album and tour in 2005, it is still very much an active band.
The Beach Boys: Brothers Brian, Dennis, and Carl Wilson, cousin Mike Love, and friend Al Jardine (replaced briefly in 1962 and 1963 by David Marks) were the band. Brian quit touring in 1966, replaced briefly by Glen Campbell, and more permanently by Bruce Johnston. Dennis drowned in 1983. When Carl Wilson, Alan Jardine, Mike Love, and Bruce Johnston toured as the Beach Boys through 1997, there was a real legitimacy. But Carl died in 1998. [I went to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame shortly after Carl’s death, where they had a nice tribute piece to him and to another Carl who had died recently, Carl Perkins.] Mike Love and Bruce Johnston regained the legal right to use the Beach Boys name and have been touring as “The Beach Boys” ever since. Even with short-timer David Marks, it’s hard for me to accept this band as the Beach Boys. Maybe if Mike & Bruce kissed and made up with Brian & Al (who was a respondent in a lawsuit for using the Beach Boys’ name in his “Al Jardine’s Family & Friends Beach Band”, featuring Al’s sons, Brian’s daughters, and several former Beach Boys’ backing musicians), then THAT would be the Beach Boys.
Herman’s Hermits: There’s the group headed by Barry Whitwam; it also featured Derek Leckenby before he died in 1994. Then there’s Herman’s Hermits Starring Peter Noone, which at least has the original Herman. The two groups create an unfortunate dilution of legitimacy.
Bob Dylan: No, wait, he’s solo artist. He’s just had so many phases in his career. He is 64 today – happy birthday to the “unwilling counterculture icon.”
I liked what Cream did. They break up, the name’s done, even though 2/3s of them (Eric Clapton, Ginger Baker) end up in Blind Faith. And when there’s a Cream reunion this year (with Jack Bruce), there’s no question of their legitimacy.
Say, this is FUN! Think I’ll do it again with some more groups some other time.
The question becomes more interesting when a band name is treated as both a musical identity and a promise to an audience. Multiple splinter groups with original members make that boundary especially blurry: does continuity depend on the founding lineup, the recognizable sound, legal ownership of the name, or the members currently performing? Comparing a few of those standards could turn the discussion into a sharper look at authenticity and expectation in live music.
The question of identity gets more interesting when a band’s name carries both musical expectations and a particular history of membership. Multiple splinter groups with original members make the issue less like a simple replacement problem and more like competing claims to continuity. A useful distinction may be between a group’s repertoire, its lineup, and the shared chemistry audiences associate with its strongest period; those elements do not always survive the same personnel changes.
This gets at the difference between a band as a legal name, a set of musicians, and a shared musical identity. The existence of two splinter groups connected to Sly and the Family Stone makes the question more interesting, not less: original members may carry real continuity, yet different lineups can create competing claims. Perhaps the most useful measure is transparency—audiences should be able to tell which members, repertoire, and history a performance actually represents.
The question becomes especially tricky when a band’s identity is tied to both a sound and a specific set of people. Seeing the Funk Brothers and Family Stone Experience sounds like a useful prompt for that debate, particularly with two Sly-related splinter groups still involving original members. Perhaps the fairest test is whether the lineup preserves a recognizable musical purpose, while being candid about which legacy it represents.
The question becomes sharper when more than one group carries a familiar name after personnel changes. Original members matter, but so do the musical direction, the rights to the name, and whether audiences can reasonably tell what version they are seeing. Lineage is probably a better word than authenticity here: it allows room for several legitimate continuations while still acknowledging that they may offer very different experiences. Clear billing helps listeners decide.
The question becomes sharper when an act keeps performing under a familiar name while its members change. The Funk Brothers and the Family Stone Experience seems to have prompted exactly that distinction between continuity of repertoire and continuity of identity. The existence of two splinter groups connected to Sly and the Family Stone makes a simple answer difficult: audiences may recognize the songs, yet the lineup still shapes what the name represents.
The split-group question gets especially interesting when the name represents both a sound and a shared history. If two offshoots include original members, audiences may reasonably see each as carrying part of the legacy, while still expecting clarity about who is onstage. A useful distinction is whether the group preserves a recognizable musical identity or merely the brand. That tension is probably why lineage remains such a lively topic for reunion-era acts.
The two splinter versions of Sly and the Family Stone show why this question resists a simple lineup rule. A band name can signal continuity of repertoire, a legal right to perform under that name, or an artistic identity tied to particular members; those meanings do not always align. It would be interesting to compare whether audiences judge authenticity differently when the original singer, songwriter, rhythm section, or only one founding member remains.
The two splinter groups make the naming question especially interesting because an original member alone does not settle it. A band name can signal a repertoire, a collective sound, a period in music history, or simply a legal identity. Personnel changes are normal, but the audience deserves clarity about what version is appearing. Calling the lineup a continuation may be fair; presenting it as the unchanged original group is where the distinction becomes important.