Long before Black Nasty signed with Stax Records, the group’s guiding force had already helped shape Detroit music history. Johnnie Mae Matthews, later known as the “Godmother of Detroit Soul,” launched independent labels, developed artists including The Distants before they became The Temptations, and spent years building a musical ecosystem outside the Motown machine. By the early 1970s, that vision found a new outlet through Black Nasty, a family-led funk outfit featuring her son Artwell Matthews and daughter Audrey Matthews.

Released on Stax Records’ Enterprise imprint in 1973, Talking to the People stands among the rawest and most singular listening experiences in the label’s catalog. Produced by Matthews and songwriter Sir Mack Rice, the album fused Detroit grit, psychedelic rock influences, gospel-rooted vocals, and deep funk grooves into a sound that felt worlds away from the polished sophistication often associated with classic soul.

The group’s journey to Stax came through Rice, whose songwriting résumé included “Mustang Sally” and later contributions to The Staple Singers’ “Respect Yourself.” After hearing Black Nasty’s rendition of The Supremes’ “You Keep Me Hanging On,” Rice recommended the band to the label. By that point, Black Nasty had already evolved considerably from its origins as Raw Integrated Funk, an early incarnation that briefly included future rock guitar legend Ted Nugent. Though firmly rooted in Detroit, the band’s eventual relationship with Stax reflected a broader creative exchange already underway between Memphis and the Motor City. Portions of Talking to the People were recorded at Detroit’s Pac Three Studios, a facility also utilized by Stax’s Gospel Truth imprint during the same period.

From its opening moments, Talking to the People cuts straight to the chase. The title track immediately announces the group’s deep, guttural funkiness, setting the tone for what remains one of the most uncompromising records in the Stax catalog. Black Nasty’s sound is unapologetically gritty and direct, wearing its jagged edges in a way that feels entirely intentional rather than a byproduct of limited studio resources.

That darkness extends throughout the album. Even midtempo ballads such as “I Must Be in Love” never fully abandon the tension established by the funk tracks surrounding them. Rather than striving for elegance, the performances seem to simmer. The album’s sensuality emerges through rough edges and unfiltered emotion. Vocals frequently feel less like carefully crafted studio takes and more like desperate pleas echoing from a street corner after midnight. The result is a record that feels intensely lived-in, capturing a sense of place and personality that many better-known releases never achieve.

If the title track establishes the album’s mood, “Nasty Soul” introduces Black Nasty’s identity. Built around a chant-like refrain, the song unfolds less like a conventional soul recording and more like a funk march. Its hypnotic repetition creates a sense of momentum, as if the group is announcing its arrival in real time. The performance feels communal rather than polished, emphasizing collective energy over technical precision. The track beckons the arrival of a psychedelic, streetwise outfit whose ambitions extended well beyond traditional soul conventions.

At first glance, “Getting Funky Round Here” appears content to speak the familiar language of funk: We’re funky, come join the party. The premise borders on the proverbial low-hanging fruit. Yet Black Nasty proves more inventive than the title suggests, repurposing “funky” as a descriptor for peculiar behavior and suspected infidelity. As the groove unfolds, the term takes on a double meaning, transforming what could have been a straightforward dance-floor workout into a clever tale of mistrust. It’s a small but effective twist that gives the song greater substance than its title initially suggests.

The album’s centerpiece, however, may be “Black Nasty Boogie.” The track reinforces the band’s instrumental might, employing little more than vocal grunts, stylizations, chatter, and handclaps as a narrator guides listeners through the hypest way to shake to the Black Nasty sound. The song is less concerned with lyrical sophistication than physical movement. Tinkling piano figures, gliding guitars, and a deep, muscular bassline surround the vocals, transforming what might otherwise be a simple dance record into one of the album’s most immersive grooves.

What separates Talking to the People from many overlooked funk albums of its era is its range. Alongside the album’s toughest grooves are moments of tenderness and vulnerability, particularly on “I Must Be in Love” and “I Have No Choice.” The band’s vocal approach to each ballad provides a softer counterbalance to the album’s grittier moments while reinforcing the project’s family-centered nature through choral flourishes rooted in the Black church tradition.

“I Have No Choice” carries additional significance within the Matthews family story. The song had previously appeared as a Johnnie Mae Matthews single on her own Big Hit label several years before Black Nasty recorded it for Stax. Its inclusion feels less like a cover than a passing of the torch. The updated arrangement places the song in the hands of a male vocalist whose delivery blends elements of Sam Cooke’s warmth, Johnny Mathis’ romantic phrasing, and Johnnie Taylor’s gospel-rooted conviction. The result is a performance that feels both vulnerable and commanding, demonstrating how a familiar composition could take on new meaning when filtered through a different voice and generation.

Commercially, Talking to the People failed to make the impact Stax had hoped for. Black Nasty was eventually dropped from the label amid one of the company’s most turbulent periods. Yet the album proved less an ending than a beginning. After leaving Stax, the group briefly recorded as Nazty before evolving into ADC Band, eventually scoring a Top 10 R&B hit with 1978’s “Long Stroke.”

More than fifty years later, Talking to the People remains compelling because it refuses to be just one thing. Equal parts funk workout, family affair, social commentary, and Detroit soul showcase, the album captures the musical vision of Johnnie Mae Matthews at a pivotal moment in her career. Though it never achieved major commercial success, the record endures as one of the most distinctive hidden treasures in the Stax catalog—a dark, simmering statement from a band determined to do things its own way.

by Jared Boyd