Troy Patterson, Slate's TV critic, on Sly:
"The most hyped moment regarded the possible emergence of funk pioneer Sly Stone from wherever it is that he dwells. At the climax of a cluttered medley sung by a subpar supergroup, Stone showed up looking the very model of a postmodern major genius/recluse—a blond mohawk like a vast coxcomb, a silvery jacket like a 24th-century lab coat, sparkly belt, wraparound shades. This is how Gravity's Rainbow cultists want Thomas Pynchon to look. "