Hello J., thank you for the invitation. I have always been immersed in a world filled with music. My father introduced me to the synthesizer at a very early age. I quickly gained access to keyboards, and although I was too young to produce anything particularly interesting, as far back as I can remember I always enjoyed playing with them. Alongside synthesizers came the classical guitar, which became my first "serious" instrument thanks to two years of lessons that, unfortunately, proved of little practical use but were nevertheless decisive because of the role the instrument would later assume. For a long time, it became my primary means of composition.

At the age of fourteen, I formed a duo with a friend. I played both guitars and keyboards in that project, which quickly came to an end due to our lack of coordination and, above all, our limited technical abilities. I retain bittersweet memories of that experience—nostalgic because it was the only time I ever played regularly with someone else, something that never happened again afterward, but also because of the joy I found in developing melodies and harmonies between the two instruments I then fancied I knew well: electric guitar and synthesizer.

Various circumstances in my life forced me to abandon all musical activity for a while, but as soon as I returned to an active life, I resumed writing music. The electric guitar helped me create a few Metal projects, whereas since 2012 I had mainly focused on acoustic compositions, particularly for the kantele, the Finnish zither. Perhaps one day an album from that period will finally see the light of day...

Returning to the main topic, in 2014 I was frantically recording countless compositions on an eight-track Zoom recorder, with absolutely no computer involvement. It was a blessed period during which I alternated between writing poetry and composing ballads and airs in very different styles that nonetheless shared a common melancholy and bitterness. Since then, I have expanded my thematic range, but it was during that period that my compositional abilities truly flourished. I purchased proper recording software and put my years of writing experience—whether Folk or Metal—to use, resulting in the first demonstration of what would soon become the Morteruine project.

That was when I understood what my musical path would become: the creation of a strong and deeply personal universe, evoking the rural past of my region, working on atmospheres that I wanted to remain faithful to the memories of the elderly people I knew, and writing lyrics that are always highly structured and rooted in a nostalgic vein that is very dear to me.

The project means a great deal to me because I have always wanted to pay tribute to our elders, who built everything for us and whom we too often forget amidst the twists and turns of our country's, our region's, or even our families' histories. Dverg later became necessary to channel certain needs that I could not express through Morteruine because of their more universal nature, a point I will expand upon in one of your next questions. As mentioned earlier, Morteruine aims to be an echo of our past—cold as death, from which it borrows its nocturnal cloak—but above all a sonic response to an atavistic fear: the fear of forgetting our history, both great and small, in humanity's natural tendency to move forward. I, on the contrary, chose to look backward because I try to build my existence through those who came before me, taking from them the details that resonate most with me and weaving them into the fabric of my own life. At its core, Morteruine is the desire to recognize within each of us the portion of shared and personal history that we have appropriated in order to wrap ourselves in a life that would otherwise be far too cold without the comforting blanket carefully woven by our elders, so that we would not be too lonely nor too cold as we continue this wonderful and yet terrible adventure called life. The composition of Morteruine's first demo, which was originally intended to be a full-length album, took place throughout 2017. The writing process was highly spontaneous, as it was the first time I had attempted to compose an entire release that needed to display a certain degree of cohesion as a whole. I wanted to establish a strong identity from the project's very beginning so that I could later enrich it with analogous but more diversified concepts, such as the representation of Death within the European collective unconscious, our relationship with this entity, and the various ways we attempt to ward it off, accept it, or deny it—always through a lens of personal nostalgia that connects us to all those who have passed away.

The second album, Le Vieux Jardin (The Old Garden), was written more quickly and frenetically than the demo, though never in haste. I needed to express feelings that were stronger and even more personal than those explored on the demo. The individual portrayed in Le Vieux Jardin could be interpreted as an allegory of denial—of refusing death and even self-denial—because he cannot accept the passing of his companion. He ultimately visits her grave in the cemetery known as The Old Garden, buries himself in the earth beside her, and in death they become one forever. It is this denial of the self, which I feel every day God grants me, that I wished to express. Existence is not easy for anyone. I wanted to make an album about it. One never knows what the future holds! Seriously, I do intend to continue the Morteruine adventure by delving deeper into both the personal and collective aspects of our decay. For now, however, I feel more inclined toward composing synth-based works. Wolfspell Records reissued my demo, which I think was justified since it had been sold out at France d'Oï for quite some time. I wanted it to be available again for listeners who may have missed the first edition and would like to own a copy. The demo was remastered by my friend Torve, who also updated the artwork. Dverg exists primarily to showcase creations built around synthesizer structures. Since Dungeon Synth and Black Metal align perfectly with my tastes, it felt obvious to combine the two genres, to the point of making an entire project out of it. The writing process for Dverg begins with composing melodies on keyboards, to which I add guitars and new harmonies that respond to the original themes while enriching them with additional synthesizer layers. I have always had a strong affinity for synthesizers, and in 2021 Dverg was born out of the need to create a universe completely different from Morteruine's—one that is more universal and, paradoxically, more personal, as it allows me to express my deep love for the depths of the Earth in a way reminiscent of Jules Verne's novels Journey to the Center of the Earth and The Black Indies. These two books were instrumental in shaping Dverg's conceptual identity.

I chose English for Dverg in order to reach a different audience from Morteruine's. The language serves as a vehicle for messages that I want to be more universal. Even if it only reaches a tiny fraction of traditional Black Metal listeners, I wish to connect with people from horizons beyond the French audience that may be drawn to Morteruine. Dverg is intended to be more "stateless," in the sense that the world in which its story unfolds could be one where everyone speaks the same language and shares similar conceptions of the values explored in albums such as From the Mouth of the Mountain or What We Were: belonging to a supportive community and love for shared history and heritage.

For a long time, I wanted to create a project that would evoke the Great War through a personal lens, but I could never find the right angle or approach. Myrblomst came into being in 2022, quite by chance, when one October evening I recorded a few guitar tracks inspired by old family archives. I kept composing, following various paths that always seemed to lead back to my desire to give the past the recognition it deserves. Naturally, several pieces emerged, which I later gathered into a series of EPs. To my knowledge, the First World War has rarely been explored within the style I use for Myrblomst. I found the idea compelling—to compose music in memory of soldiers who died in battle, regardless of the side they fought for. I will continue to write for all those anonymous dead, to whom we all owe a duty of remembrance. Being deeply attached to the past, I have built up a substantial collection of photographic archives and postcards dating from the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, which I enjoy using to illustrate my musical works. For me, it feels entirely natural to connect the themes explored in my music with these old testimonies of a bygone era. Torve, of Borie de la Combe Noire, is a close friend who shares my vision of music and has accompanied me for quite some time in shaping and refining the visual and sonic identities of many of my musical projects. He is responsible for the artwork of *Le Vieux Jardin*, as well as the sonic signature that defines that album. Without his close collaboration, most of my projects would never have achieved such a distinctive personality. I am fortunate enough to compose freely and according to my own artistic decisions, but I know that whenever I need it, I can count on Torve's support, insight, and friendship to help bring out the very best in my compositions. These side projects do me a great deal of good and help me step outside not so much my comfort zone as my habitual ways of working. Bryophyta, in particular, allows me to express my love for Nature and its magnificent creations. Through it, I explore plants, animals—always those closest to Mother Earth—and create small stories that lend themselves perfectly to the EP format, offering an enjoyable listening experience without requiring the commitment of an hour-long album. I greatly enjoy working within this format because it allows me to focus on a single subject—or even a single character—and craft a small adventure around it, immersing the listener for the duration of a cassette.

I believe that Dungeon Synth, or at least my approach to it in Bryophyta, offers a greater sense of escapism than many other genres. Personally, I would rather spend half an hour immersed in a small release telling the story of a frog that turned its pond emerald green than in a grandiose work dealing with broader, more universal concepts. Those larger themes are what I explore through Dverg. Dverg is better suited to long-form storytelling that can span more than a single album, whereas Bryophyta is more intimate and cozy. A Bryophyta release is often enough to clear the mind, to escape without becoming lost. I would tend to say that Dungeon Synth and Black Metal are not, in my opinion, genres intended for the masses. Personally, I would rather my projects be listened to and appreciated by a small number of devoted enthusiasts who truly understand my musical intentions than by a large audience that might miss the message entirely or simply remain indifferent to the melodies I strive to create. I make music for my own enjoyment. Not for fame—which I gladly leave to those who seek it—nor for the money I might potentially earn through social media promotion. "Hated by most, loved by the best." I feel more comfortable being the unknown artist who sells twenty cassettes to passionate listeners than embodying the archetype of the successful musician whose music is widely heard yet largely misunderstood.
The future is uncertain... I intend to continue developing Dverg, which may well become my main project one day, as I find myself increasingly drawn toward composition through synthesizers. Bryophyta is also gaining momentum. I recently released two EPs, later combined into a single cassette, both centered around amphibian adventures. I thoroughly enjoyed developing this small concept, and I sincerely hope the future will allow me to continue along this path and release these short albums on a regular basis. Thank you for the invitation. I'll leave you with the final word!