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like The Wizard Of Oz,” says eric Palley, Stone’s former A&R at epic. “No-one wants to meet The Wizard Of Oz.”

Using archival footage drawn from interviews and live performances, a persuasive picture emerges of Stone’s rise from house producer at Autumn Records and Bay Area radio DJ to psychedelic soul superstar. “Fame attracts wonderful people,” notes the band’s original saxophonist Jerry Martini. “Fame also attracts guns and dogs.” The decline from Woodstock-era utopianism into darkness, drugs and isolation is mourned, too, particularly by close friend Bobby Womack, featured here in one of his last interviews. “Bobby Womack was a straight-shooter, he didn’t hide anything,” says Rubenstone. “After we’d done, he’d start frying up pork chops in his kitchen, shirt off.”

It would be unfair to reveal too much about Rubenstone’s encounters with Stone, though the filmmaker experiences a satisfying pay-off after his decade-long search. Although Stone hasn’t seen the finished film, his children have. “They got it,” laughs Rubenstone. “They totally understood, they know their dad.”

Among his interviews, Rubenstone is keen to flag up the contribution of 82-year old former manager of the band, David Kapralik – who is filmed at home in Maui, working out on his exercise bike. “What he was hoping to accomplish with that band, socially, politically, during a very turbulent time, still resonates. We’re everyday people, we’re all in it together. We’ve come a long way, but we still have a hell of a way to go.”