Bloodred Returns: Ron Merz on Rage, Reflection, and a New Dark Age

Bloodred Returns: Ron Merz on Rage, Reflection, and a New Dark Age

With Colours of Pain, Bloodred mastermind Ron Merz delivers the most personal and socially charged album of his career. Written in the shadow of the pandemic and shaped by a world sliding toward division, oppression, and uncertainty, the record channels raw emotion into a blend of melodic black and death metal that feels both intimate and universal. From the cold, relentless perspective of a virus to the rallying cry against patriarchal tyranny, Merz uses Bloodred as a vessel to confront the fractures of modern society.

Despite being a one‑man studio project supported by longtime collaborators Alexander Krull (Atrocity, Leaves’ Eyes) and drummer Joris Nijenhuis, Bloodred’s sound has grown more expansive and dynamic with each release. Now, a decade after his debut Nemesis, Merz reflects on his evolution as a songwriter, the challenges of bringing Bloodred to the stage, and the global issues that shaped his latest work. Thoughtful, candid, and unflinchingly honest, he offers a rare look into the mind behind one of Germany’s most compelling underground metal projects.

First of all, Ron, give me a little background on the band. How long have you been together, and where are you based?
I’m from southern Germany, near Stuttgart. I actually founded Bloodred as a project back in 2009. I’d played in bands during high school—like many of us do—but at some point, I decided I wanted to get serious about music again. So I started writing and recording songs on my own.

A few years later, I got in touch with Alex Krull, who has been our producer ever since. His studio isn’t far from where I live, so that connection came naturally. From there, things progressed steadily. I eventually connected with Joris, who became the drummer for the band. That’s the core team that has been working together for many years now.

How did you wind up signing with Massacre Records?
Massacre is also a fairly local label, which was definitely a plus. But it also helped that I was already working with Alex Krull—he knows practically everyone in the metal community. Through him, the contact with Massacre came together.

So in my 40s, I ended up signing a record deal with Massacre, which is something I honestly never thought I’d achieve again. It was really a case of being in the right place at the right time.

You mentioned Alexander Krull. Let’s talk about him—Mastersound Studio, Atrocity, Leaves’ Eyes. What has it been like working with him? The guy’s a legend.
He is a legend, and that’s why it was a big deal for me to pick up the phone and call him the first time, many years ago. I’d seen him around, of course, and knew his work. But he turned out to be incredibly relaxed and open to collaboration right from the start.

Over time, we’ve developed a really strong working relationship. He understands the musical direction I want to take, and he knows what I’m aiming for sonically. If you listen to the albums, you can hear the progression—especially in the production. The sound has become more open and dynamic, less compressed, giving each instrument more room to breathe. That’s something we developed together. Working with him is easygoing, productive, and very creative.

Alexander is famous for Atrocity and Leaves’ Eyes. Your drummer, Joris, is also in Atrocity and was in Leaves’ Eyes. What has it been like working with him, and how did that partnership come about?
When I first contacted Alex, I told him I wanted to record two songs. I had written everything and programmed the drums. He said, “Sure, let’s do it—but what if I ask the drummer from my band to play on it?” That drummer was Joris, who was in Atrocity and Leaves’ Eyes at the time.

I said, “If Joris is up for it, even better.” Human‑played drums are still superior—at least for this kind of music. Joris agreed, and that’s how our collaboration started. It’s been going strong ever since.

He’s a great counterpart for me, because I basically do everything else in the band—writing the songs and lyrics, playing guitar, bass, vocals, and programming the initial drum ideas. And, well, it’s a cliché, but when a guitarist programs drums, they might sound cool but not necessarily playable by a human. Joris grounds me there, and he brings his own personality and style into the music. It’s a huge addition to what I create.

The album title and the song “Colours of Pain”—what inspired that lyrically and musically?
Going back to the COVID years, I think many people went through different emotional phases. At one point, I felt a lot of rage about the uncertainty—nobody knew what tomorrow would look like, or the next month, or the next year. It was something completely new and unsettling.

There was grief—that’s the “black”—and also a kind of numbness or being overwhelmed by everything happening at once. While reflecting on all that, and trying to cope with it emotionally, I looked for an image that captured those feelings. That became the “colours of pain”: red, black, and gray. Simple, but very meaningful to me.

It was an important song to write, because it helped me process everything. And since the themes were so fundamental and personal, I wanted the lyrics on this album to be even more rooted in what I see and feel. That’s why “Colours of Pain” became the centerpiece of the album—and the album title itself.

Let’s jump from the second track to the first track, “Ashes.” What inspired that one?
There are two layers to it. On the surface, it’s about the downfall of people who build their power on deception and manipulation. That can be politicians, people in the arts, or anyone, really. It can happen anywhere—even within your own family or circle of friends.

And if you look around, at least in my experience, there seem to be more and more people heading in directions you never expected—ways of thinking or behaving that are completely different from your own values. The closer it gets to home, the more personal it becomes, and the more melancholy comes with it. It’s not easy to see people change for the worse, or to realize they may have deceived you for years.

So the song works on a small, intimate level, but you can also expand it to a universal perspective if you want to.

“A New Dark Age.” Let’s talk about that one.
“A New Dark Age” draws on the idea of the historical Dark Ages—everyone knows that reference. These lyrics were also written in the wake of COVID, and for me there was a sense of societal decline, something almost invisible at first. Suddenly you had people divided—pro‑vaccine, anti‑vaccine, just to name an easy example. That division kept growing.

The sad thing is that when you look at the lyrics now, five years later, they’re still relevant. We’re still regressing in terms of enlightenment, ethical standards, and basic decency. There hasn’t been progress for the better. That’s why I used the imagery of the Dark Ages: a lack of enlightenment, a lack of reason. It’s a projection of where we might be heading—at least partially—if humanity doesn’t manage to change course.

I want to ask about two more songs. “Death Machine”—tell me about that one.
“Death Machine” is also very much influenced by COVID, but I wanted to approach it from a different angle. I wrote it from the perspective of the virus itself. And just to be clear, this isn’t a conspiracy theory—nothing like that. I was simply fascinated by how differently the virus affected people. Some had mild cold‑like symptoms, others were fighting for their lives, and many died.

To me, the virus felt like a machine—cold, indifferent, not human‑made but operating with the same ruthlessness. It doesn’t differentiate between people. And since we’re in the metal realm, I thought that perspective could be interesting to explore.

The pandemic didn’t come in one wave; it kept returning like a tide. That reminded me of the classic trope of machines attacking humanity—something you see in films and stories. All of that blended together into the concept of the song: the relentlessness, the coldness, the inhuman nature of the virus.

Let’s go to the end of the album—“Resist.”
“Resist” was written during a time when I felt deep rage and anger. This was around the period when, first in Iran but also in countries like Afghanistan, women and girls were being brutally suppressed. They were killed, tortured, poisoned—horrific things—simply because they made a self‑determined decision, like choosing not to wear a headscarf.

Much of this oppression comes from religious and patriarchal systems. And while it’s easy to point at Iran, Afghanistan, or places in Africa where genital mutilation still happens, we have to be honest: patriarchal tyranny exists in Western countries too. The U.S., Germany, Europe—it may be more subtle, but it’s still there. Women still aren’t where they should be in many areas of society.

That’s why I turned the song into a rallying cry: resist that oppression. When the protests in Iran were happening, there was a moment of hope. But eventually the regime crushed it, and just weeks ago there were more demonstrations—again with thousands killed. It’s devastating.

The call to resist is directed not only at women, but also at men who see what’s happening and want to help change it. Of course, depending on where you live, resisting can cost you your life. But the message had to be said.

The album also features Þráinn Árni Baldvinsson of Skálmöld, who plays a solo on “Mindvirus.” How did that collaboration happen?
Skálmöld is one of my top three favorite bands, without question. We met at a festival about twelve years ago and stayed in touch. Whenever we run into each other, we talk. At one point, Þráinn said, “If you ever want me to play something on a record, just let me know.”

I didn’t have to think twice. I told him I was working on a new album and would find the right spot for him. That became “Mindvirus,” where he contributes a solo.

For me, it’s the first real solo I’ve ever had on a Bloodred album. I don’t see myself as a shredder or soloist. Þráinn has a very different musical background, and you can hear it in his playing. His solo adds a unique flavor to the song—distinct, but still fitting perfectly within the track. It was a great experience and a huge honor to have him on the album.

Would you like to tour in support of this new album? Would you like to play live?
That’s a very difficult topic. When I started the band, I looked for musicians in my area but couldn’t find the right people. At some point I said, “Okay, screw it—I’ll do my thing anyway,” and Bloodred became a studio project. I would like to tour, although I’d have to practice hard to transition from the studio to the stage.

But if you look at touring today, it’s becoming more and more expensive. Ticket sales are declining, and many bands simply can’t afford to go on the road. So in a way, it’s not the worst thing that I’m not dependent on touring. Still, playing a show here and there would be great. Whenever I go to a concert or festival, I leave with the motivation to play live again. It’s just hard to set up and find the right people. I could hire musicians, of course, but that’s beyond what I can manage at the moment.

Nemesis, your first full‑length album, is celebrating its 10‑year anniversary this year. When you look back on it now, what do you think of it in retrospect?
It’s interesting. I listened to the album again just a few days ago, and sometimes I think, “You wrote that? You played that? All right…” It’s so different from where I am now. Even the new album already feels a bit in the past to me, so maybe I’m simply in a different place creatively.

Looking back, Nemesis was a very innocent first album. Some ideas weren’t as refined as they are now. The lyrics weren’t as personal. I was still developing my vocal style and my songwriting. It’s different—let’s put it that way—but there are still great songs on it. “The Hail-Storm,” for example, the fastest track on the album, is one I’d definitely play live. It’s aggressive, it has a great break, and I love that song.

Nemesis is the foundation of what Bloodred is today, and I’m grateful for that. It was also my first full studio album, so I have a lot of memories of learning, experimenting, and experiencing things I didn’t know before.

And of course, Alexander and Joris were on that album as well, so they’ve been with you for the entire journey. Are you currently involved with any other bands or projects outside of Bloodred?
Yes, I have another project called Urthum, which leans even more toward melodic black metal—at least from my perspective. The main difference is that Urthum is something I do entirely on my own: writing, recording, producing, artwork, everything. It’s a fully self‑made side project. There are songs waiting to be finished, but I focused on Bloodred for a while. For now, that’s the only other project I’m involved in.

Your last Urthum release was the Aeon EP in 2024, and before that the full‑length Infinity. So you’re working on new music as we speak.
Yes, there’s new music already recorded. I just need to add vocals and produce it. There’s also another EP written. I’m always writing, always being creative. Sometimes when a song develops, I realize, “This is for Bloodred,” or “No, this belongs to Urthum.” There’s a lot in my head—I just need the time to finish it.

Do you have any messages for your U.S. fans who are reading this now?
Where to start… First of all, it’s an honor to know that someone in the U.S.—or anywhere in the world, really—is listening to my music and dedicating their valuable time to it. That’s very humbling.

Since I’m more socially conscious, especially on this album, I also want to say that I’m following what’s happening in the U.S. You’re based in L.A.—you had the National Guard in the city not long ago, and everything that came with it. Minnesota, and so on. I’m not here to push anyone in a specific direction, but I encourage people to be open‑minded, to inform themselves outside their own echo chambers, and to look for what unites rather than what divides.

Societies, families, countries—we’re all dependent on each other: the U.S., Europe, everywhere. And right now, the trajectory isn’t going in the right direction. And to be clear, that’s not just a U.S. problem. We have issues here in Germany too. It’s widespread.

But to wrap it up: enjoy the music, and thank you for listening.

In Conclusion

As Colours of Pain unfolds, it becomes clear that Ron Merz isn’t simply writing extreme metal—he’s documenting the emotional and societal fractures of our time. Whether channeling the cold indifference of a virus, the weight of global oppression, or the quiet despair of watching people drift into extremism, Merz approaches each theme with a rare blend of introspection and intensity. Bloodred may remain a studio project for now, but the conviction behind the music is unmistakably alive.

A decade after Nemesis, Merz continues to evolve, sharpen, and challenge himself, driven by a creative impulse that refuses to rest. And while he may be thousands of miles from the fans who connect with his work, his message resonates across borders: stay open, stay informed, and resist the forces that divide us. For listeners willing to step into the storm, Colours of Pain offers not just catharsis, but clarity—a reminder that even in a dark age, there is power in confronting the truth head‑on.

(Interview by Ken Morton)

Bloodred on Instagram