Fuossera is still and forever Raw Poetry. The interview.

Hi guys, it’s an honor and a pleasure for us to ask you a few questions, since we’ve been following you with admiration and respect ever since the days of “Pnzier Psant’”. Fuossera has been active since the late ’90s: can you tell us when and how the group was formed? How did you meet, and how did you connect with the Neapolitan hip-hop scene of that time — with demos, jams, and your first collaborations? (Did you happen to have any background or links to the graffiti scene too?)

O’Iank: Fuossera was born from an idea I had with a dear friend of mine, Fanny 96, who I used to do graffiti with back in the ’90s — so yeah, I actually started out with spray cans. Our first live performance was on September 26th, 1998 in Piscinola, at a Jam. Sir Fernandez and I had known each other for a while already, and when I told him about the idea of forming a group, he immediately said: “Yeah, let’s do it.”

We got in touch with the scene back then by going to Jams and to the squares where b-boys used to hang out — places like Piazza Vanvitelli and Piazza del Gesù. That was the only way to do it, and it was beautiful.

OJey: There’s not much to add to what O’Iank said, except that Sir Fernandez is my cousin — I’ve known him since we were kids. But we reconnected as teenagers when we both fell in love with hip-hop culture. At the time, I was just starting out with graffiti and rap in another crew called NFB. I actually met O’Iank more through basketball — we played together, hung out a lot, and became like brothers. So when he and Sir decided to form the group, it felt natural for them to ask me to join. And for me, it was a no-brainer to say yes.

Sir Fernandez : ike many others at the time, my first approach to the culture was through graffiti. But to be honest, I didn’t have much talent for that. Still, when O’Iank asked me to start a group, I didn’t hesitate for a second to say yes.

One of your earliest tracks that put you “on the map” of the Italian scene is undoubtedly Pnzier’ Psant, made with Co’Sang — who would go on to become long-time collaborators and key figures in the history of Italian hip hop. How did that track come about? And how did your connection with Luchè and Ntò start, both personally and artistically?

Fuossera: We met Co’Sang back in the ’90s too, since they were also hanging around the same places — the meet-up spots and Jam sessions. Plus, we were basically from the same neighborhood. At the time, Piscinola and Marianella were part of the same district, and now they belong to the same municipality — the “Eighth”.

Pnzier’ Psant came to life because we had said so many times, “Let’s do something together.” In 2003, we brought the beat to Luca’s place, and we made the track in one afternoon. From that moment on, we became like family. We did everything together, not just musically.

In 2004, Poesia Cruda was released with Co’Sang — one of the most iconic collaborations in Italian rap history. A manifesto-track that captured the vision and poetics of a movement born in the streets. What did Poesia Crudarepresent at the time, in relation to the historical context of Italian rap, your neighborhood, and the city of Naples?

Fuossera: The track was created as a sequel to Pnzier’ Psant. In fact, the original title was Poesia Cruda (Pnzier’ Psant 2). One night Luca said, “Let’s do it, but this time with a video.” We didn’t write the lyrics together, but naturally, we were all following the same vision.

At that time, Poesia Cruda marked a clear break from everything Naples had produced in rap until then — it was totally different from anything that had come out before. And that was exactly what we wanted. Those two singles were the first rap tracks to make it into the car stereos of kids in the hoods. There was a record store in Secondigliano that burned custom compilations with tracks from 50 Cent, Eminem, Tupac, Biggie — and those two songs were on them.

Poesia Cruda was also the chapter that gave us our first exposure to the national scene. The video was playing on various TV channels, but at the time, not everyone was ready for Neapolitan rap in general — and especially not for ours, done the way we did it. Still, it created important connections, above all with Club Dogo, Marracash and the entire Dogo Gang.

That was indeed a particularly raw and violent time for the city — especially the northern area where you come from. Can you take us back to that period and tell us how it influenced — or maybe even inspired — your music? Do you have any stories that capture the atmosphere of that time, and how your first studio projects were born?

Fuossera: Almost every night, we’d meet up outside Luca’s (Luchè, editor’s note) and Antonio’s (Ntò, editor’s note) buildings — they lived right across from each other. 

On many nights during that time, we had to move around because there was a kind of unofficial curfew. After a certain hour, all you’d see were motorcycles speeding through the streets, and shortly after, news would spread that someone had been killed. So it didn’t just influence us — it changed the way we lived, and it gave us a very specific perspective on certain things.

While we were shooting the Poesia Cruda video, there was an ambush behind one of the buildings in the background of the location. We had to shut everything down and leave earlier than planned. It was only natural that those kinds of stories ended up in our lyrics — told through raw lines and harsh, unfiltered words.

After the release of Chi More Pe Mme (Co’sang debut album), we and Co’Sang rented an apartment in Scampia and turned it into a studio — some of us even lived there. Our first album, Spirito e Materia, was entirely produced in that place. Some of Luchè’s beats on that record were taken while he was literally making them — we’d hear him from the next room, walk in and say, “Bro, we need this one.” That album wouldn’t have come out the same way without that setup.

There was constant collaboration — for example, even one of the lines in the hook of Affil e Lam came from Ntò. He was right there with us while we were writing it.

Naples — and your neighborhood in particular — has always been at the heart of your storytelling, balancing between social critique and a strong sense of belonging. How has the city changed since the days of Pnzier’ Psant? And how have those changes influenced your music and your lives?

Fuossera: The city, overall, has improved a lot in terms of tourism and investments in that sector — and that’s clear to the whole world. Our neighborhood has also changed a lot, even though crime hasn’t disappeared.

Not just in our area, but across Naples and its province, there’s a growing tendency to paint a sugar-coated version of the city — hiding the dirt under the rug behind pizza, mandolins, and media tricks. That kind of narrative about Naples doesn’t belong to us. Since the days of Pnzier’ Psant, we’ve been digging where many don’t have the courage to dig — and we bring to light what many either don’t see or pretend not to see.

You’ve lived through the evolution of the Italian hip-hop scene from the late ’90s to today, always staying true to your identity. From Spirito e Materia, through Sotto i Riflettori and Démodé, up to your upcoming new project — what has changed in your approach and attitude across these records? And how has the perception of your rap evolved within the Italian scene over the years?

OJey: I’d say “once upon a time there was a hip-hop scene” — but some of the people who built that scene are still here. To me, there’s a huge difference between then and now. I wouldn’t call it an evolution of what once was — it’s more like a complete shift toward individualism that broke apart the sense of community.
From then until now, our music has stayed true to itself, just like we have. But we’ve experimented — using Italian more in Sotto i Riflettori, and exploring different sounds in all of our projects, always trying to stay real. Especially in this new album, where you can feel the weight of all the years of music and battles we’ve lived through together. I think that’s something today’s listeners can really feel.

Sir F: The approach remains the same — letting ourselves be inspired by what we see, by what touches our sensitivity: “TELLING REAL LIFE STORIES.” Not trying to sell a polished or artificial reality.

O’Iank: The only thing that has changed is our approach to production. Maybe now we’re more aware of the atmosphere in which our lyrics have to move. On this new album, we had the huge contribution of Feral Dafe, who took care of the entire record from a compositional point of view. Even when the beat started with me, his hand was always there. The mixing and mastering were also done by him. After so many years, we found someone who shares our vision even technically. Over the years, that has been a big challenge for us.

Your new single “Primm Grad” was released just a few days ago, anticipating a new project. What pushed you to get back into the studio together to record new music after the reunion?

Fuossera: The desire to make music together again pushed us to work on Forever EP, now followed by the upcoming new album. When something is meant to happen, it just happens — like with our reunion. It has always been like this. In the best moments of our career, we found ourselves making music without compromises and with fun, and that’s exactly what we’re experiencing now.

What is the spirit or idea behind the new album? What inspired you, and what musical influences did you bring into this work?

Fuossera: The spirit remains the same — that’s how it works with us. We need to feel the urge to ask people: “Are you sure what you think is right?” After so many years, the influences are countless. We worked on the new album with the same enthusiasm we had 20 years ago when we started working on our first record, letting ourselves be inspired by everything that has accompanied us musically all these years.

We have a vast background; we’ve never limited our listening. Hip hop has evolved in so many ways over the years, and we absorbed what we liked the most. We don’t like to label our music using all the subgenres out there. We deeply dislike when people try to describe a song by mixing a bunch of terms. Ours is 100% hip hop — free. Hip hop means FREEDOM.

The song Primm Grad opens with a powerful reflection taken from an interview with Tupac: “Should we be more responsible in our lyrics?” You talk about pain, consequences, and ask if “it’s worth facing the punishment.” Can you tell us the deeper meaning of this track? How important is it that rap conveys a message in its lyrics even today? And how do you do that without sounding hypocritical or boring to new generations?

Fuossera: Tackling certain topics can often seem boring to people who are less sensitive to the subject at the moment, or in general, or to more superficial people — no judgment, neither way.

We believe that an honest story will always find a way to reach those who want to listen, whether they’re young or older. Generally, when we write, we don’t worry about whether it will reach people or not. Instead, we focus on writing something with depth — a story. And Primm Grad is exactly that: a rhymed story that throws you into the world of prison as if you were watching a movie, without judgment, moralizing, or rhetoric.

A shout-out to the ThrowUp Magazine editorial staff, hoping to meet you soon.

È Poesia Crùr, SEMPRE.