‘Techno in a monastery – ready?’ A Greek priest whose doom metal album is the most popular of the year | Practice music

‘T“The guitar was made by God,” says Mr. Dionysios Tabakis, sitting in the living room of his home in Nafplio, a city on the coast of the Peloponnese in Greece, surrounded by various types of musical instruments and religious icons. something. God created everything.”

His favorite is the Harley Benton R-457. Priced at only 135 €, it is an impressive electric guitar, producing music that is tighter and louder than a normal guitar, and warmer. Tabaki compared the sound to the “waves” of a person’s voice.

R-457’s deranged form travels throughout the world of Paradise Steelthe homegrown album of doom metal, Christmas music and cult dubstep that catapulted Mr. Tabakis from label to cult earlier this year, Pitchfork’s music test gave it a 7.6 rating — higher than Aphex Twin’s Drukqs. or The discovery of Daft Punk.

Complicating Mr. Tabakis’ guitar-playing interest is the fact that the 53-year-old is an ordained priest in the Greek Orthodox Church, a branch of Christianity who have traditionally seen all instruments and country music as satanic and a threat to the modesty of family life. “The electric band doesn’t sound right in the church,” he says. “This is thought to be ‘of the devil’.”

Mr. Tabakis is on a one-man mission to change this. That we are meeting face-to-face feels like a minor miracle, given his isolated nature. When I met people from his record company a month ago, they admitted that they had never met him in person or spoken to him on the phone. They have a YouTube channel but no online presence anymore. After her song was released in April, she received many invitations but turned them down, worrying that she would look silly on TV.

One of the 8,000 registered presbyters in the centuries-old Greek church, Tabakis is devoted to his priesthood, which he refers to as “we”. Although he is not married – he has been married to Foteini for 32 years and has three children – the benefits of the hermitage are what he wants. He makes pilgrimages every year to Mount Athos, the holy place of monks, self-governing, and admires arrogant and self-sacrificing priests, like his father-in-law, who lived among bears and wolves on the border with Albania. “Those are the real priests,” he says. His own talents, he says shyly, are “rain”.

Born in 1972, Tabakis grew up in the port of Piraeus, in a family so poor that her parents tried to abort her. “Twice!” He says. “Both times, the doctor came out.” Piraeus was full of Greeks who fled Smyrna when the city was burned by the Turkish army in 1922. His grandfather was among them. The entire Byzantine culture continues to flow in Tabakis. “That’s where I come from. It’s in my DNA,” he said.

Music became a way to express his culture. When he was in elementary school, the priests of his parish taught him Byzantine music, and he has been doing so ever since he taught himself some obscure Byzantine instruments: the banjo-shaped cümbüş, the kabak kemane knee-whip, the long-necked yayali tanbur lute, the zurna flute, the ney flute, and various instruments. He jumps at the chance to show the difference between two of the 15 types of ney he placed under a large image of the Virgin Mary (one is “bigger”, apparently). Tabakis credits Jesus’ mother not only for not having an abortion but for her recent music success.

About four years ago, he started recording his music in a DIY style. His son showed him how to use creative software and his upstairs neighbor taught him the guitar. Evgenia Simela Armeni, a 23-year-old who met him at church, gave him a voice, filming with her phone inside his university apartment.

He started posting his music on YouTube right away, although he says: “I never had any ambitions to be famous.” His video got a few 4,000 followers, but one of them was Nikolas Rafael, the founder of Elhellell of Thessaloniki, who was immediately disappointed. He said: “These days musicians are among the oldest people. “Everyone has a copy of their copy.” Tabakis refutes all this. “He is a good changer from the ordinary artist.” He tracked down Tabakis’ email address on a Christian forum and asked to write it.

Paradise Metal is a wild ride, marrying Byzantine music, Orthodox Christian, heavy metal, rap and techno. The melodious vocals are evident on most of the songs, but there’s an unexpected twist at every turn. The song Techno in a Monastery begins with the chant – “Are you ready?” – before the start of the chant that was sung over the top of the alarming beat. “The source of the game,” is how Pitchfork described the song, which manages to be both ambitious and low-key.

“I try to experiment and explore,” says Tabakis, who quotes a line from the Greek poet Yiannis Ritsos: “I don’t envy big buildings, but big windows;“ add that, “and every musical instrument is a window, through which you can see part of the universe, part of the sky.” Metal, says the priest who wants to know etymologically, “it comes from metalswhich means to be mine, to explore”.

One song title – Flexareis Karga, Ekklisiastiki Rap – translates as: “You’re Flexing Big Time (Church Rap).” Mr. Tabakis explains: “‘Flexibility’ means being busy with something, and ‘fun time’ means more.” He says that he is not a political expert, because he does not know that what we are seeing is real. However, Dubai Paei (meaning “Bye, Dubai”) was inspired by the current conflicts in the Middle East, and the mass exodus when bombs fell on the UAE city. “It reminded me of Babylon in the Book of Revelation, which was emptied, so to speak.”

Most surprising, perhaps, is how preachy the priest-turned-musician’s album is. He said, what made him start singing rap music was to try to resolve the conflict between the older generations, which he thinks can be fixed, and the young people who speak a different language. He said: “I had to find music to play which was very difficult.

None of his children are very religious: Tabakis’ daughter is a 25-year-old photographer who lives in Athens. He deliberately did not force his desires on them. What have other priests made of his success? Tabakis said: “They didn’t tell us, which is good. “We’re not from here so we don’t know them very well,” he says, even though he’s been here for 27 years. He means that there is competition in the whole church – that some people are not in the church for the right reasons, or they are too concerned with power.

The old Orthodox equation of secular music with the devil doesn’t bother him. God “is sweet,” he insists. “He loves good things. By creating something beautiful, even with tools, Tabakis respects his faith. And he is not committed to his future as an artist. Even if his musical career were successful, he would not leave the church and start his full-time ministry. “They say a priest is better than a king, because he can turn bread into the body of Christ.” Not even an angel can do that. When he goes for a walk with his wife, he only goes to his church.

When I ask about the upcoming performances, he responds with his own poetic, self-effacing, nonsensical joke: “It feels like taking a fish out of its water to walk it to breathe.” He paused and then added: “I think I’m very difficult, but if this makes people happy, then I’m happy.”