Bassolino - The mayor of the Newpolitan sound

We meet Dario Bassolino, one of the most interesting figures on the national jazz-funk scene. A conversation in which the Neapolitan artist explains how his search for sound intersects with space, and how he has managed to give music the time it deserves...

Has music always been part of your life?

It all started because there was a piano at home; my father was very passionate about Neapolitan music and, from a young age, gave me sheet music of songs in that genre. My childhood was very rich in music, theatre and art in general. Growing up in an environment full of cultural stimuli, together with my choice to pursue classical studies at the conservatory, certainly gave me the training and drive I needed to access this world.

What path led you to producing the music you make today?

It's been a particular journey, because while I was studying classical music, I had a group of friends who were into hip-hop and rap, and I started producing music with them. And since they were hip-hop heads, they were also into vinyl, into rare records - obscure to most people, if you like - and that's where my passion for records was born. At the same time, I started digging for old, niche vinyl, and through that I began playing funk and hip-hop, always leaning a bit more toward a jazz line. I then formed one of my first bands, called Sbirro Funk, where we made tracks in a poliziottesco funk vein with inserts of Neapolitan music - probably a forerunner of this project - and then, little by little, over time, I fell in love with the genre. Definitely, meeting people as a kid who were so enthusiastic about digging for vinyl allowed me to walk two paths at once: classical music at the conservatory, and hip-hop and funk with my friends. And eventually those two paths crossed.

And instead, where does your album "Città futura", which also has that poliziottesco-funk sound, come from?

I'd always had the idea of making it, but working with so many other musicians and on other projects, I never released anything of my own, until at a certain point a need arose, both artistically and culturally. It happened at a moment when I felt I'd found the right key to interpret things, and I wanted to connect it to a very lively artistic and cultural movement in Naples, where there's a rich and thriving musical scene. Also, having trained as a composer, I've always been influenced by the history of the best-known names who produced soundtracks. So now I feel like these two worlds have come together a bit: the soundtrack and the disco jazz-funk that exists in Naples. On top of that, the city is full of people who are curious about music, and who therefore make up an active audience, which is a decisive factor in the composing and producing process. Having such a vibrant scene, where the people who want to listen to music are also very aware of the genre itself, is essential.

Do you think the place you're in at a specific moment in your life influences the music you make?

Yes, there's definitely a bit of "nostalgia operation" that's inherent to the city of Naples. Figures like Pino Daniele, Giuni Russo (even though she was Sicilian, ed.), Tullio De Piscopo, have over the years stopped being ordinary mortals and become legends. The culture of the 1970s in Naples too - the film, the art, the writing - is somewhat contained within the record. There's a search for a certain style, one that later faded and turned into counterculture. For me, it was important to dig up cult figures who've been a bit forgotten, like Pino Mauro and Mario Merola, people who in mainstream culture haven't really surfaced much in recent years. What's more, I live in the port area, where in the '70s several films about smugglers were shot, and it's always great fun imagining scoring those stories. So yes, music definitely connects me to the place, and Naples influences me.

And where does the title "Città futura" come from?

"Città futura" was chosen mainly because I needed to give the album's title some cultural weight. It comes from Gramsci - it's a quote from a book, in turn picked up and quoted by Pasolini, whom I'm a big fan of. I wanted to represent the concept of "the people," and I think this is a very "popular" record, with its own refinement, sure, but also a lot of gut feeling. It's no coincidence that the cover was shot in Bagnoli, where Italsider once stood - the first industrial plant built in Naples, which was in fact called Bagnoli Futura. I liked the idea of drawing a connection between Città futura, Bagnoli Futura, workerism, and the concept of the people who have to go to the factory, so typical of the 1970s and the struggles of that era. There's also a huge amount of cinema on the subject, and I needed this title to frame the more political side of things - political in an aesthetic sense, but not politicized, because these aren't songs that preach politics. The point was to rediscover a people, frame them, and produce music that could also be for the people.

So did you stay true to this concept in the composition as well?

Yes, it was important to me to write music that had no constraints tied to the capitalist concepts of music production - things like track length, or structure, or the chorus. There are no choruses in these songs, but there are patches that move with, and within, free-flowing moments. The point was to give the music the time it deserves.

So does the composition originate around a concept, an ideal?

Before making a track or a record, I always try to frame it within a sonic environment - I like to imagine a story. My work is never just about making music for its own sake; it's always aimed at telling or conveying a concept. In part, I wanted to give a new vision of this Naples that's been portrayed so much, but where, in my opinion, something was still missing - so I tried to tell stories that hadn't been told yet.

So does music need to have meaning?

Yes, I don't like making music purely for consumption, as an end in itself. I accept it, and I understand those who do it, but alongside the product I also like to give it meaning, to convey a concept, rather than just produce music that leaves nothing behind for the listener.

You told me you've always collaborated with other artists - what role do the people around you play in the music you make?

I'm definitely influenced by the people close to me, among them Paolo Petrella, with whom I'm very much in tune musically, and a lot of things come about with him, but also Linda Feki, who sings on "E' parole". When I conceived that track, I thought she would sing it - I imagined a certain vocal sound, range, melodic possibilities. In the same way, I think of Andrea De Fazio on drums; when I wrote the drum parts, I was thinking exactly of him. The musicians who play with me are the ones who also shape my sonic language, and in the live shows, a bit of all of this comes through.

Let's talk about the live shows then, how did Bassolino Sound come about?

The live band came out alongside the record. We'd already made some videos that represented the concept of the band, of the collective, in a way, where we try to leave room for every musician and for improvisation. I think it's important not to always play the same show, but to have free sections where everyone gets their own space, or at least we try to.

You're now on tour in Europe too, did you expect the success you've had with "Città futura"?

Not really, it definitely wasn't something I was thinking about when I made the record. The desire was to connect certain dots, and probably, when you do that, people recognize it. Of course, the music also has to work. I think we found a balance between something recognizable and something new, never heard before. Definitely the part that moves me most is playing live, because it creates a feeling of sharing with people.

Speaking of sharing, you've done DJ sets where you played vinyl in unexpected places, like the Pignasecca market in Naples. How do people react?

Very warmly. I definitely pay close attention to the musical selection in these places, I try to bring back to light albums that have unfortunately been forgotten. At the market, for example, I played Tommy Riccio, who made neomelodic disco in the '70s, and then also more contemporary stuff. I try to bring people together a bit, both in the live shows and in the sets.

There really is an idea of collectivity in the way you describe playing live and also producing, is that right?

Yes, it's an imperative for me, I'm very willing to listen to other musicians, to try to understand what they have to say, and I also try to find a way to let them express themselves at their best. Even the next project coming out carries an idea of intrinsic collectivity, one that even extends beyond borders.

In fact, you collaborated with Charif Megarbane, on a record that tells the story of the migration of peoples. How did that go?

With Charif there was an almost brotherly connection right away, both in terms of sound and values. I felt it was important to talk about the people who live in North Africa and who are forced to leave their lands. Also because historically it's a very dark time for all these peoples, and for me it was important to be able to contribute to shining a light on sensitive issues and on the culture of these places.

Do you find there are similarities between the city of Beirut and Naples, culturally and musically speaking?

Absolutely yes, they're both cities rich in culture, history and musical passion, but which over time have undergone processes of cultural degradation at the expense of the people who live there. There's a fundamental idea that unites the two peoples, and the peoples of the South in general; they're often forgotten, but they have a clear identity that they claim, because in the end identity is the only thing you have left. And the identity of Naples also lives on in the identity of the Arab world. Even the Neapolitan scale and the Arab scale, if you think about it, are the same thing, and that's also where the similarity between Arab sound and the sound of certain Neapolitan music comes from. There's an undeniable interconnection across the Mediterranean basin. Borders used to not be so impassable, and one goal of this work we did together was precisely to break down these walls and to continue down a path of identity tied to the geography of the place, rather than to economics. To think of the Mediterranean basin, that is, as a place where cultures intersect and where all the peoples of the sea live, who are to some extent equal to one another, in the same dimension and with the same, albeit different, cultural richness. Working with Charif was natural and wonderful, I hope we'll do more collaborations.

What would you like to work on in the near future?

Definitely Brazilian music, it's a world that interests me and it will be an area of exploration. Marcos Valle is one of the first artists I'd like to reach out to. There's a lot of connection with Italy, and when I was in Brazil I fell in love with the sounds and musical influences. If you think about it, even Pino Daniele built a career on bossa nova, which means we're probably very receptive to those rhythms in Naples, and a lot of Neapolitan songs also work in a bossa nova key. In fact, there's a whole culture of Neapolitan bossa nova music, it makes me think of that beautiful record called "Amicale" by Irio De Paula and Mario Fasciano, which is a clear example of that. I'd definitely like to explore Brazilian music.

Thank you, Dario.

Thank you.

(April 25, 2025)

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