Hi! A lot of black metal bands use war as scenery, decoration, or a source of dramatic imagery. Catarsi appears to treat the WWI as something far more intimate and psychological. At what point did you realize this would become an album about human experience rather than military history?
It was a very conscious choice from the beginning. We were never interested in approaching the First World War from a political, military or historical analysis standpoint.
What drew us to that period was always the human experience within it. The focus of Catarsi was intentionally set on the inner world of the individuals involved rather than on external events or strategic narratives. We were more interested in what it meant, on a psychological and emotional level, to be placed in such extreme and inescapable conditions.
As the concept developed, this direction only became clearer. The war itself remains in the background as a setting, but the real core of the album lies in fear, disillusionment, fragility and the gradual erosion of identity that such an experience can produce.
The Great War has become increasingly common subject matter in metal over the last twenty years. Did you ever worry that the topic had already been exhausted by countless bands before you?
We were aware that the First World War has been a recurring subject in metal for many years, and that many interpretations of it already exist. However, that was never a concern for us in terms of “exhaustion” or originality.
What matters to us is not the subject itself, but the perspective from which it is approached. The same historical period can become something entirely different depending on the emotional and narrative focus behind it.
One of the most difficult things about writing from a soldier's perspective is avoiding both glorification and victimization. How did you navigate that balance while developing the narrative behind Catarsi?
That balance was one of the most important aspects for us from the very beginning. We were never interested in portraying the soldier as a heroic figure, but at the same time we wanted to avoid reducing him to a passive symbol of suffering.
The key was to keep the focus on the internal experience rather than on external judgement. We tried to stay close to perception: what it might feel like to be inside those circumstances, rather than commenting on them from the outside. In that space, notions like heroism or victimhood naturally lose their rigidity and become more complex, more human.
Folk metal often celebrates cultural identity, heritage and collective memory, while black metal frequently dismantles those same concepts. Do you feel those two impulses are in conflict within DUIR, or is that tension precisely what makes the band work?
We don’t really experience it as a conflict, but rather as a natural tension that exists within the music itself.
The folk elements are often associated with memory, roots and a sense of continuity, while black metal carries a more fragmented, intense and sometimes destructive emotional language. In DUIR, these two aspects are not used to make a statement against each other, but to express different layers of the same human experience.
Looking back at T.S.N.R.I. - Impermanenza, themes of transience and impermanence already played a central role in your work. Does Catarsi represent a continuation of that philosophical path, or a completely different chapter?
Catarsi is very much a continuation of the same philosophical thread that was already present in T.S.N.R.I.–Impermanenza, rather than a departure from it.
The themes of transience, impermanence and the fragility of human existence have always been central to our identity as a band. What has changed is not the core of those ideas, but the way we chose to express them.
With Impermanenza, those reflections were approached in a more introspective and abstract way, focusing on existential questions from a personal and philosophical standpoint. With Catarsi, we brought those same themes into a more narrative and human context, using the experience of a young soldier as a lens to explore them in a more immediate and visceral form.
In that sense, Catarsi does not replace or contradict what came before it. It expands it. It takes the same fundamental questions about impermanence and loss and places them in a setting where their emotional weight becomes more direct and unavoidable.
So rather than a new chapter, it is better understood as another layer of the same ongoing exploration.
Touring alongside bands like Grima, Ultar, Ellende, Groza and Gaerea exposed you to very different interpretations of modern atmospheric black metal. Have those experiences influenced DUIR creatively, or have they reinforced your desire to follow your own route?
Sharing the stage with those bands has certainly been inspiring on a human and artistic level. Each of them has a very strong and distinct identity, and being able to experience their music in a live context naturally broadens your perspective.
That said, it hasn’t really shifted our creative direction in a conscious way. If anything, it has reinforced the importance of remaining faithful to our own language. Seeing so many different ways of approaching atmospheric black metal makes it clear that there is no single formula or“correct” path, which is very liberating in itself.
There is often a fine line between atmospheric music and merely slow-moving music. What, in your opinion, separates genuine atmosphere from empty cinematic padding?
For us, it comes down to a combination of arrangement, sound design and, most importantly, how the sound is actually built.
Atmosphere is not just about slowing things down or adding layers for the sake of it. It’s about how all the elements interact with each other: the arrangement, the textures, the use of reverb, and how everything is blended together to serve the emotion of the song.
When these aspects are working together with a clear intention, the atmosphere feels natural and alive. When they are used just as separate “effects” placed on top of the music, it can easily start to feel empty or disconnected.
So it’s really about how well everything is integrated into a single sonic idea, rather than how many atmospheric elements you add.
The use of traditional instruments in black metal has become so widespread that it sometimes feels almost obligatory. When writing for flute, bagpipes or hurdy-gurdy, how do you prevent those elements from becoming aesthetic accessories rather than essential parts of the composition?
For us, it always comes down to composition first. Those instruments are never added at the end just to“color”the sound or to tick a stylistic box. They are part of the writing process from the beginning, or they take a very defined role within the structure of the song.
The flute, bagpipes or hurdy-gurdy need to feel like they belong in the same musical idea as the guitars and drums. Sometimes they carry the main melody, sometimes they create counterpoint or atmosphere, but they are always serving a clear function within the arrangement. If an element doesn’t change or support the emotional direction of the piece, then it simply doesn’t belong there.
We also try to avoid overusing them. The impact comes from placement and restraint as much as from presence. If traditional instruments are everywhere all the time, they stop feeling special and lose their expressive weight.
So the goal is not to showcase the instruments themselves, but to integrate them into the same language as the rest of the music, where they become necessary parts of the composition rather than decorative layers.
Black metal historically tends to focus on myth, spirituality, nature or individual struggle. Catarsi instead places itself inside a specific historical catastrophe. Did that choice change the way you approached lyrics compared to previous material?
Yes, but not in the sense of changing direction completely. It changed the focus, not the core approach.
With Catarsi, the lyrics became more anchored to a concrete context, but we still approached them from a human and emotional perspective rather than a descriptive or historical one. We were never interested in narrating events or constructing a “report” of what happened during the First World War.
Instead, the writing process was guided by perception and inner experience. The language had to reflect states of mind, fear, disorientation, fragility, numbness, rather than external actions or details. That naturally led to a more direct and immediate lyrical style compared to some of our previous work.
Italy has produced remarkable black metal over the years, yet it rarely receives the same international attention as scenes from Scandinavia, France or Eastern Europe. From your perspective, what distinguishes the Italian underground today?
Rather than trying to define a “national scene” or compare it to others, we can only really speak from our own perspective within it.
What matters to us is authenticity and personal vision. The most interesting projects in any context, not just in Italy, are the ones where the identity is clearly defined and the music feels like a direct extension of the people behind it, without compromise or imitation.
In that sense, what we experience around us is a lot of individuality. Bands and artists following very different paths, often driven more by necessity and personal expression than by any attempt to fit into a specific trend or aesthetic.
For us, that is the only thing that really matters in the end. Whether in Italy or elsewhere, what makes a scene meaningful is not its visibility, but the sincerity of the people creating within it.
Having spent years sharing stages with both folk-oriented and extreme black metal bands, where do you feel DUIR truly belongs? Have you ever found yourselves too black metal for one audience and too folk for another?
We don’t really think in terms of belonging to one side or another. DUIR has always existed in a space between different expressions rather than within a single category.
When we share stages with very different kinds of bands, we don’t feel out of place, but we also don’t try to adapt ourselves to fit a specific audience expectation. Our focus is always on presenting the music as it is, with its own identity and contrasts intact.
It is true that this can sometimes place us in an in-between position. Some listeners might be more drawn to the black metal aspect, others to the folk or atmospheric side, and that balance is not always interpreted in the same way. But for us, that is not a problem or something to resolve.
DUIR was never meant to fully belong to one“camp.”The different elements are not there to appeal to separate audiences, but to coexist within the same emotional and musical language. If that creates distance or contrast depending on the context, we see it as a natural consequence of staying true to that vision rather than trying to simplify it.
Many listeners are fascinated by war despite having no real connection to it. Do you think people are attracted to war narratives because they help us understand history, or because they allow us to safely consume tragedy from a distance?
It’s probably a mix of both, and it likely depends a lot on the individual listener.
War narratives can offer a way to approach history and understand the scale of human events that are otherwise difficult to grasp. At the same time, there is also an undeniable distance when experiencing these themes through art, which can make them more “accessible” in a way that real tragedy never is.
We are aware of this dynamic, but we don’t try to judge it or position ourselves above it. What matters to us is how those themes are treated artistically. In the case of Catarsi, the focus is not on war as spectacle or abstraction, but on the emotional reality of individuals placed inside it.
After more than a decade of existence, what has become harder for an underground band in 2026 - writing meaningful music, finding dedicated listeners, organizing tours, or simply maintaining belief in what you're doing?
It’s difficult to single out just one aspect, because all of them are interconnected in different ways.
Writing meaningful music is always a challenge, regardless of the context, because it requires time, honesty and a certain level of detachment from external pressure. At the same time, finding listeners who are willing to engage deeply with music has become more complicated in a landscape that moves very quickly and often encourages surface-level consumption.
Organizing tours and sustaining a project over time also comes with its own set of practical difficulties, especially for an underground band.
But perhaps the most constant challenge is maintaining belief in what you are doing. Not in a naive or romantic sense, but in continuing to trust your own vision even when the process becomes slow, demanding or uncertain.
The album title Catarsi suggests purification through suffering, but history often teaches the opposite lesson: suffering frequently produces only more suffering. How do you personally interpret catharsis?
We don’t see catharsis as something that “solves” suffering or transforms it into something positive in a literal sense. For us, it is more about acknowledgment than resolution.
Suffering does not necessarily lead to clarity or purification, and we are not interested in presenting that kind of narrative. What we find meaningful instead is the moment in which something internal is confronted and given form, rather than suppressed or left unspoken.
In that sense, catharsis is not an outcome, but an experience. It is the act of passing through an emotional state fully, without simplifying it or escaping it. Whether that leads to understanding, relief or simply awareness is something that cannot be controlled or predicted.
With Catarsi, the idea was never to suggest that suffering has a purpose or a moral direction, but to create a space where those emotions can exist in their raw form. If there is any form of“purification” in that, it comes from recognition rather than transformation.
Imagine a veteran of an entirely different war listening to Catarsi. What part of the album do you think would feel familiar to him, regardless of time period, nationality or ideology?
We think what would feel most familiar is not a specific moment or narrative, but a certain emotional condition that runs throughout the album.
Regardless of the conflict, the time period or the ideology, there are experiences that seem to repeat themselves for anyone who has been exposed to war: confusion, fear, the gradual erosion of identity, and the sense of being disconnected from everything that once felt familiar. These are not abstract ideas, but very immediate and internal states.
In Catarsi, we tried to stay close to that inner dimension rather than focusing on external events. For that reason, we believe a veteran from any other conflict would not necessarily relate to the historical context, but to those underlying emotions that transcend it.
It is that feeling of psychological isolation and transformation over time that we imagine could resonate the most, because it is something that exists beyond any single war or generation. In the end, it is less about what is happening around the character, and more about what is happening inside him.