Panihida (2019) - Batushka

 

Released independently on May 26, 2019, Panihida is the second full-length album by Krzysztof Drabikowski's Batushka, and widely regarded as the true spiritual and artistic successor to the groundbreaking 2015 debut Litourgiya. The title Panihida refers to the Eastern Orthodox memorial service for the dead—an apt metaphor for an album drenched in themes of mourning, spiritual reverence, and inner ritual. Composed, recorded, and produced entirely by Drabikowski himself during a highly public legal dispute over the band name, Panihida reaffirms his original vision: raw, immersive, and spiritually suffocating black metal rooted in sacred liturgy.

Tracklist:

1. Piesn 1

2. Piesn 2

3. Piesn 3

4. Piesn 4

5. Piesn 5

6. Piesn 6

7. Piesn 7

8. Piesn 8

(“Piesn” translates to “Hymn” or “Song” in Polish.)

Panihida unfolds like a single continuous prayer. Each track is named simply and sequentially, stripping away any commercial pretense and emphasizing the liturgical, funereal structure. The album feels like it was written in isolation, in darkness, and in grief—Drabikowski channeling not only Orthodox ritual but personal conflict, loss, and resolution.

• Piesn 1 begins with somber chanting and a slow build of dissonant tremolo riffs. The mix is dense but clear—far less polished than Hospodi, but deliberately so. There’s a thick, incense-like atmosphere to every note.

• Piesn 2 moves with more urgency, with blasting drums under solemn Slavonic vocals. The layering of shrieked screams and low choral chants is powerful—ritual and rebellion in one breath.

• Piesn 3 and 4 embrace repetition and pacing. They move slowly, like carrying a casket through snow, but the melodies pierce through. The Orthodox chants sound mournful, reverent, and ancient, contrasted by raw, rasping growls.

• Piesn 5 stands out for its haunting interludes and melodic weight. The guitars feel like liturgical processions—each riff slowly circling back on itself, never quite at rest.

• Piesn 6 introduces dramatic shifts—faster tempos, sudden breaks into a cappella-style chanting, and layered vocal movements that feel like an invocation.

• Piesn 7 is where emotional intensity peaks. The atmosphere thickens, and Drabikowski’s harsh vocals blend with the ecclesiastical drones into something deeply anguished.

• Piesn 8 closes the album with a funeral march of sorts—slow, crushing, and ceremonial. It fades into silence not abruptly, but like a candle going out in a cathedral.

There are no gimmicks here. No gloss. Just the sound of faith weaponized into grief.

Panihida hits harder for its sincerity. This doesn’t feel like black metal wrapped in religious aesthetic; it feels like black metal born from religious experience. Tracks like Piesn 2, Piesn 5, and Piesn 8 stood out to me the most. The pacing, the melodic movement, and the tension between sacred chant and tortured vocals are so tightly bound that you lose track of time. There’s no crowd-pleasing hook, no genre-hopping detours—just a straight, unwavering descent into mourning.

Where Litourgiya felt like a divine service, Panihida is a requiem. It’s less bombastic, more intimate, and arguably even more emotionally potent. If Hospodi was the grand stage production, Panihida is the real funeral, held in a candlelit crypt, far from public eyes.