Genre: Melodic Gothic/Doom Rock/Metal
Country: Liechtenstein
Questions by: Nick Parastatidis
Answers by: Maurizio Dottores
(Vocals, All instruments)
Site: Homepage
1. With Death closing the tetralogy, do you see this final chapter as a
resolution—or more of a transformation into something undefined?
More a transformation into something undefined. Death completes the
conceptual cycle, but it doesn’t feel like a final statement. It’s more the
point where form dissolves and certainty disappears. The tetralogy ends there,
but Black Reuss itself continues beyond it.
2. The river metaphor has been central to Black Reuss from the beginning.
After completing this cycle, has your personal interpretation of that symbol
changed?
Not fundamentally. The river still represents movement and inevitability.
You cannot stop it or fully control it. But over time, I became more aware that
the river also loses itself eventually. On Death, it reaches the sea and
dissolves into something larger. That became an important part of the
symbolism.
3. Death seems to explore dissolution and silence. Was there a moment
during its creation where you felt creatively “emptied” rather than inspired?
Not emptied, but quieter. The writing process was more restrained than on
the previous albums. Since Death deals with interpretations of something
unknown rather than direct experience, I approached it with more distance and
less emotional urgency. Inspiration came more from reflection than intensity.
4. Across the four albums, how has your relationship with darkness evolved?
Is it still something to confront—or has it become something you coexist with?
I think it became something I coexist with. Earlier albums are more
confrontational and reactive. Over time, darkness stopped feeling like an enemy
and became more a part of the emotional landscape. I don’t romanticize it, but
I also don’t try to escape it. It simply exists alongside everything else.
5. Your work often feels cinematic. If Death were a film, what kind of
visual world or narrative would accompany it?
It would be minimal and slow. Wide empty spaces, cold light, fog, water,
long static shots. Not much dialogue. More atmosphere than narrative. I imagine
a visual world where movement becomes gradually slower until everything
dissolves into silence and openness.
6. There’s a strong sense of solitude in Black Reuss. Do you see solitude
as a necessity for your creativity, or something that comes with a cost?
Both. Solitude gives me clarity and allows me to work honestly without too
much external noise. But it also has a cost because you carry everything
yourself creatively and emotionally. Still, Black Reuss probably couldn’t exist
in the same way without that solitude.
7. The presence of Diego Rapacchietti adds a new dynamic to Death. Did his
involvement influence the emotional direction of the album in unexpected ways?
Not the emotional direction itself, but definitely the physical presence of
the album. Diego brought precision, restraint, and weight. His understanding of
space was very important. The drums support the atmosphere rather than
overpower it, which helped reinforce the calm heaviness of the record.
8. You’ve maintained full creative control over Black Reuss. After
finishing such a large conceptual arc, have you ever felt tempted to break that
isolation and fully collaborate with others?
I’m open to collaboration, but only if it feels natural and honest. Black
Reuss was built around a very personal and consistent vision, so too many
outside influences could easily change its identity. But collaboration itself
isn’t something I reject. It simply has to serve the atmosphere rather than
redirect it.
9. Many artists fear repetition after completing a major concept. Do you
feel liberated or challenged now that the tetralogy is complete?
More liberated than challenged. The tetralogy gave structure, but it also
created boundaries. Finishing it opens space creatively. There’s no pressure to
continue the same narrative anymore, which allows new directions to emerge
naturally.
10. The titles “Oblivion,” “Endgame,” “Phoenix,” and “Elysium” suggest both
finality and rebirth. Is Death more about endings—or hidden continuations?
It’s about both existing at the same time. Some songs represent dissolution
or judgment, while others move toward continuation or peace. I didn’t want the
album to define death through one perspective only. The idea was to let
different interpretations coexist without deciding which one is correct.
11. How important is silence in your music—not just musically, but
emotionally?
Very important. Silence creates space for reflection. Musically, it gives
weight to what surrounds it. Emotionally, silence often says more than
intensity or noise. Especially on Death, space and restraint became
essential parts of the atmosphere.
12. Looking back, is there a moment within the tetralogy where you feel
Black Reuss truly found its identity?
Probably during Journey. That was the point where the emotional
direction, atmosphere, and philosophical side of the project aligned most
clearly. From there on, the identity became much more defined and grounded.
13. Your music is deeply introspective. Do you ever worry that exposing so
much of your inner world leaves you vulnerable in ways that are difficult to
reconcile?
Not really anymore. Earlier on, maybe more. But over time I understood that
honesty creates connection rather than weakness. Also, with Death, the
writing became less autobiographical and more interpretative, which created a
certain distance naturally.
14. The production on Death is described as dense and immersive. Did you
consciously push the sonic boundaries further than on Arrival?
Yes, but not by making it bigger or more aggressive. The focus was on
density and atmosphere. I wanted the album to feel immersive and physically
heavy without overcrowding it. Space and decay became just as important as the
instruments themselves.
15. Artists often change once they complete a long-term vision. In what
ways has Black Reuss changed you as a person?
It taught me patience and acceptance. The project developed slowly over
many years, and through that process I became more comfortable with uncertainty
and less attached to needing clear answers. Creatively, I learned to trust
restraint more.
16. If someone listens to the four albums in sequence, what emotional
journey do you hope they experience by the end?
I hope they experience movement toward acceptance. The cycle begins with
fragmentation and confrontation, moves through struggle and grounding, and ends
in stillness. Not despair — more a sense of calm reflection and openness.
17. Do you think concepts like “death” in your work are more literal,
symbolic, or something beyond both?
Mostly symbolic and interpretative. I never wanted to define death
literally. The album explores different perspectives — dissolution, rebirth,
peace, continuation, judgment. It’s more about the emotional and philosophical
possibilities surrounding death than about explaining it.
18. Now that this chapter is complete, do you already sense where the
“river” might flow next—or is that still unknown even to you?
I think the direction is still open. The river continues, but without the
structure of the tetralogy guiding it anymore. That uncertainty feels healthy. I
don’t want to force the next chapter before it naturally reveals itself.
