Father Dionysios Tabakis: Paradise Metal

"The cassette's cover is a dream for the crate-digging exoticist. A bearded man in glasses stands at the center of the frame, wearing the black eksorasson and kamilavka of the Greek Orthodox church. He angles a matching obsidian seven-string guitar skyward, the Greek Orthodox cross painted in gold just beneath the bridge. The letters around it abbreviate a mighty message, "Jesus Christ Conquers." Only his beard breaks the blackness, the white cascading down his vestments."

"Paradise Metal-the debut of Father Dionysios Tabakis, a 53-year-old priest in Nafplio, a small Greek city off the Argolic Gulf-is actually a series of epiphanies, an ostensible curiosity that functions as an object lesson about expectations. It is a joyous, solemn, playful, and painful record, its 12 tracks shifting between spare doom metal and heavy industrial Christmas carols, between meditative bliss and experiments in religious dubstep. Recorded at home by a married dad, it feels like the work of someone searching for a new way of navigating the world, not entirely removed from the church but at least parallel to it."

"These idiosyncratic pieces aren't prayers, per se, but they certainly seem informed by the idea of prayer: personal dispatches into some unknown ether, with the hope that transmitting the message helps. At this point, it's fair to ask the question, "Would you be so enamored with this record if it weren't by a 53-year-old Greek priest?" Probably not. But that answer has less to do with his identity or image than the structure that identity"

The cassette cover centers a bearded Greek Orthodox priest holding an obsidian seven-string guitar with a gold cross and the message “Jesus Christ Conquers,” surrounded by red roses against a cloud-dappled sky. The title “Paradise Metal” frames a tension between heaven and hell, earth and ascension. The debut album by Father Dionysios Tabakis, recorded at home, presents 12 tracks that shift between spare doom metal and heavy industrial Christmas carols, and between meditative bliss and religious dubstep experiments. The music feels like personal dispatches into an unknown ether, shaped by prayer-like intent while not functioning as direct prayers. The work also challenges expectations about how identity affects reception.

Read at Pitchfork