‘Techno in a Monastery – Are You Ready?’ The Greek Priest Behind the Year’s Hippest Record
Techno in a monastery – Father Dionysios Tabakis, a Greek Orthodox priest in the Peloponnese, has become an unexpected cultural phenomenon this year. His debut album, Paradise Metal, a fusion of doom metal, Christmas carols, and religious dubstep, has captured the attention of music enthusiasts and critics alike. While the album’s success may seem like a modern miracle, it’s rooted in a deeply personal journey that blends faith, tradition, and an unorthodox love for sound. Tabakis, 53, now finds himself at the center of a genre-defying movement, all while maintaining his spiritual vocation.
The Priest and His Passion for Sound
Sitting in his Nafplio flat, surrounded by religious icons and an eclectic collection of musical instruments, Tabakis exudes a quiet charisma. His long black robes and grey wispy beard give him the air of a spiritual leader, yet his words reveal a different kind of devotion. “The guitar was made by God,” he says, his voice steady but tinged with reverence. “The devil cannot create something. God has created all.” This sentiment underpins his work, as he sees music as a divine gift that transcends the boundaries of the sacred and the profane.
“The electric guitar is a bit misunderstood in the church. It’s thought to be ‘of the devil’.”
Tabakis’s unique approach to music challenges the Greek Orthodox Church’s traditional view of instruments. While the church has long regarded them as temptations, he argues that the guitar is not inherently evil. Instead, it’s a tool for expression, one that resonates with the “waves” of the human voice, according to his description. His favorite guitar, an adapted Harley Benton R-457, is a testament to this philosophy. Priced at €135, it produces chords that are more wobbly and atonal than conventional guitars, yet warmer in tone. This instrument, he insists, is central to his sound, bridging the ancient and the modern in a way that feels both intuitive and revolutionary.
The album, Paradise Metal, catapulted Tabakis from obscurity to cult status after receiving a critics’ score of 7.6 from Pitchfork. This rating, higher than that of Aphex Twin’s Drukqs or Daft Punk’s Discovery, highlights the album’s audacity. It’s a home-recorded project that merges heavy metal with elements of sacred music, creating a sound that’s as unsettling as it is beautiful. Tabakis, who has always been a recluse, admits that the sudden attention has been a surprise. When he first contacted his record company a month ago, they revealed they had never met him in person or spoken to him on the phone. His YouTube channel, with only a modest following, now serves as his primary platform, a stark contrast to the mainstream spotlight he’s found.
A Legacy of Byzantine Resonance
Tabakis’s musical journey began in the port city of Piraeus, where he was born in 1972. Growing up in a household so impoverished that his parents nearly had him aborted twice—both times because the doctor was unavailable—he credits his survival to the grace of God. But his love for music was sparked by something else entirely. As a child, he was immersed in the Byzantine culture that still echoes through his family’s history. His grandfather, one of the Greeks who fled Smyrna after the Turkish forces set the city ablaze in 1922, brought with him the legacy of ancient melodies and rhythms that would shape Tabakis’s future.
His early exposure to Byzantine music came through the priests of his parish, who introduced him to the rich traditions of his ancestors. Over time, Tabakis taught himself a variety of obscure instruments, including the banjo-shaped cümbüş, the kabak kemane knee fiddle, the long-necked yayli tanbur lute, the zurna pipe, the ney flute, and various types of lyre. He takes pride in these instruments, which he views as extensions of his spiritual identity. “That’s where I’m from,” he says, emphasizing that Byzantine culture is “in my DNA.”
“He’s a nice change from the typical artist.”
Tabakis’s work is a culmination of these influences, blending the solemnity of religious chants with the raw energy of metal. His son helped him navigate digital production software, while his upstairs neighbor taught him the basics of guitar. Even his vocals, provided by Evgenia Simela Armeni, a 23-year-old he met at church, were recorded using her phone in her university flat. This DIY ethos, he says, is what sets his music apart. “I never had any ambitions to become famous,” he explains. “It was more about sharing my heritage through sound.”
Despite his reclusive nature, Tabakis has managed to create a unique niche in the music world. His album’s release in April brought a wave of media invitations, though he declined most, fearing he might appear foolish on television. Instead, he chose to stay grounded, continuing his annual pilgrimages to Mount Athos, the monastic holy site that has long inspired ascetics and mystics. “Those are the real priests,” he says, referring to the self-sacrificial figures who live among bears and wolves on the Albania border. His own talents, he admits, are “showier”—a term he uses with a hint of humility, as if he’s aware of the paradox he embodies.
From Obscurity to Recognition
The journey to Paradise Metal was not immediate. Four years ago, Tabakis began recording his songs in a modest, almost accidental manner. He describes the process as organic, driven by a need to connect with his roots. “Music became a way to express my cultural heritage,” he says. “It was a bridge between the past and the present.”
The album’s success has sparked a broader conversation about the role of religion in contemporary music. Tabakis’s ability to merge the sacred with the secular has challenged perceptions of both. “Musicians belong to very specific archetypes nowadays,” notes Nikolas Rafael, founder of Elhellell, the Thessaloniki label that discovered Tabakis’s work. “Everyone is a copy of a copy of a copy of a copy. He’s a nice change from the typical artist.” This recognition has not only elevated his profile but also drawn attention to the broader cultural significance of his music.
Tabakis’s story is one of reinvention. As a priest, he remains committed to his vocation, often referring to himself and his colleagues in the plural. “We are the keepers of tradition,” he says, yet he’s also a trailblazer, using his faith as a foundation for exploring new sonic landscapes. His marriage to Foteini, which has lasted 32 years, and their three children are a reminder of his life outside the spotlight. Still, the idea of hermitage, of retreating from the world to seek deeper connection, is one he aspires to. “The ideal of solitude is something I admire,” he says. “But I also believe that music can be a form of communion.”
Now, with Paradise Metal as his calling card, Tabakis is poised to redefine what it means to be a priest in the modern era. His work is a testament to the power of blending the sacred with the unexpected, and as he continues to record and share his music, he remains a symbol of how faith and creativity can coexist. The question is no longer whether techno in a monastery is possible—it’s whether the world is ready for it.
