“Techno in the monastery – are you ready?” The Greek priest whose metal album is the most recorded of the year | Experimental music

‘T“The lyre was made by God,” says Father Dionysios Tabakis, sitting in the living room of his apartment in Nafplio, a city on Greece’s Peloponnesian coast, surrounded by a large collection of musical instruments and religious icons. Dressed in long black robes and sporting a soft gray beard, Tabakis appears as if he is speaking from the pulpit when he adds: “The devil cannot create anything. The harp was made by God.” God created everyone.”

His favorite is a modified Harley Benton R-457. Bought for just €135, it’s an amazing electric guitar, producing strings that are more oscillating and harmonious than those of a regular guitar, but also warmer. Tabakis likens sound to the “waves” of the human voice.

R-457’s signature distortion ripples throughout Paradise Metal, the home-recorded album of metal, Christmas carols and religious dubstep that catapulted Father Tabakis from absolute obscurity to cult status earlier this year, after experimental music bible Pitchfork gave it a critics score of 7.6 – higher than Aphex Twin’s Drukqs. or Discover Daft Punk.

Further complicating Father Tabakis’ passion for guitar playing is that the 53-year-old is an ordained priest in the Greek Orthodox Church, a branch of Christianity that traditionally views all secular instruments and melodies as demonic and a threat to the modesty of family life. “The electric guitar has been a little misunderstood in church,” he says. “It is believed to be from the devil.”

Father Tabakis is on a solo mission to change this. Our face-to-face meeting seems like a small miracle, given its isolated nature. When I called the people at his record labels a month ago, they admitted they had never met him in person or spoken to him on the phone. He has a YouTube channel but no significant online presence. After his album was released in April, he received a slew of media invitations but declined most of them, fearing he would look ridiculous on television.

Tabakis is one of 8,000 priests registered in the centuries-old Greek Church, and is committed to his priesthood, which he refers to as “we.” Although he is not celibate – he has been married to Fotini for 32 years and they have three children – it is the ideal hermitage he aspires to. He makes annual pilgrimages to Mount Athos, an independent monastic holy site, and admires self-sacrificing ascetics and priests, like his wife’s grandfather, who lived among bears and wolves on the border with Albania. “These are the real priests,” he says. He shyly says that his own talents are “amazing.”

Born in 1972, Tabakis grew up in the port of Piraeus, in a family so poor that his parents tried to abort him. “twice!” He says. “Both times the doctor was outside.” Piraeus was teeming with Greeks who fled Smyrna when Turkish armed forces set fire to the city in 1922. His grandfather was among them. All that Byzantine culture continues to flow through Tabaquis. “That’s where I come from,” he says. “It’s in my DNA.”

Music became a means of expressing his cultural heritage. In middle school, his parish priests introduced him to Byzantine music, and he has continued ever since He taught himself a set of obscure Byzantine instruments: the banjo-shaped kambush, the kapak kimani knee fiddle, the long-necked Yayli tanbur, the zurna pipe, the flute, and various types of harp. He takes the opportunity to point out the difference between two of the fifteen types of flute he has placed under a huge image of the Virgin Mary (one of which is “more toothy, apparently). Tabakis credits the Mother of Jesus not only with not miscarrying him but also with his recent musical success.

About four years ago, he started recording his own songs in a DIY style. His son showed him how to use production software and his upstairs neighbor taught him guitar. Evgenia Simila Armini, 23, whom he met at church, provided him with vocals, recording herself on her phone inside her university apartment.

He started posting his songs on YouTube around the same time, although he says: “I had no ambition to become famous.” His channel had amassed a modest following of 4,000, but one of them was Nicholas Raphael, founder of Thessaloniki’s brilliant music label Elhellell, who was immediately impressed. “Musicians belong to very specific paradigms nowadays,” he says. “Everyone is a copy of a copy of a copy of a copy.” Tebakis challenges all of that. “It’s a nice change from the typical artist.” He tracked down Takis’ email on a Christian forum and suggested they make a record.

“Paradise Metal” is a wild ride that combines Byzantine music, Orthodox Christian music, heavy metal, rap and techno. Resonant incantations appear throughout most of the songs, but there are unexpected twists at every turn. The techno-themed track begins in a monastery with a rallying cry – “Are you ready?” – before launching into rhythmic chanting overlaid on an ominous syncopated beat. “An absolute playground,” is how Pitchfork described the track, which manages to be ambitious and not expect too much of itself.

“I try to experiment and explore,” says Tabakis, who quotes a line from the Greek poet Yannis Ritsos. “I was not jealous of the big houses, but of the big windows.”“ Adding: “Every musical instrument is a window through which you can see part of the universe, part of the sky.” Metal, says the etymology-curious priest, “comes from Metallawwhich means mine, to explore.”

One song title – Flexareis Karga, Ekklisiastiki Rap – It roughly translates as: “You’re having a good time (church rap).” “Flexibility means keeping yourself busy with something, and big time means a lot,” Father Tabakis explains. He says he is not a political artist, because he is not sure how real what we see is. However, “Dubai Bye” (which means “Goodbye, Dubai”) is inspired by the current conflict in the Middle East, and the mass exodus of people when bombs fell on the luxurious lifestyle Emirati city. “It reminded me of Babylon in the Book of Revelation, emptied, so to speak. It’s a satire on the vanity of wealth.”

Perhaps most surprising is how non-preachy the priest-turned-musician’s album is. He says his motivation for venturing into rap music was to try to bridge the gap between the older generations, who he believes can be stubborn, and the younger generations, who speak a different language. “I had to find some rhymes, and it was difficult,” he says. “So I went online to find some slang, and I did what I could.”

None of his children are very religious: Tabakis’ daughter is a 25-year-old tattooed photographer who lives in Athens. He deliberately did not impose his emotions on them. What do other priests say about his success? “They didn’t tell us that, which is good,” Tabakis says. “We’re not from here, so we don’t know them well,” he says, even though they have been here for 27 years. It suggests that there is some competition within the church as a whole – and that some people are not joining for the right reasons, or perhaps are more interested in power.

The ancient Orthodox Church’s equation of secular music with Satan certainly doesn’t bother him. He insists that God has “taste.” “He likes pretty things. He’s not clumsy.” By creating something beautiful, even with machines, Tabakis honors his faith. He is not committed to his future as an artist. Despite the success of his music career, he never gave up the church to pursue it full-time. “They say that a priest is better than a king, because he can transform bread into the body of Christ. Not even an angel can do that.” When he goes out on an outing with his wife, he somehow always ends up at his church.

When I ask him about upcoming live performances, he answers with his own kind of poetry, half sublime mysticism, half absurd joke: “It’s as if they pulled a fish out of its water and took it for a walk so it could get some air.” He pauses and adds, “I’m very embarrassed. But if it brings people happiness, I support it.”