Some albums resurface from the past like forgotten relics, and some albums return, reborn with the weight of memory, heritage, and love. ”The Lost Recording Season (1974–1978) – Vol. 1” by Soheil is the latter, and a resurrection. Spearheaded by Farbod Biglari, the great-nephew of Soheil and the legal steward of his musical estate, this archive of reel-to-reel recordings spans a critical and near-lost era in Iranian music history. Released on May 16, 2025, through Farbod’s independent label, the album is a living tribute to an artist whose voice was silenced by the tides of revolution and nearly erased by time.
The story behind these recordings reads like folklore. Soheil, a gifted vocalist in 1970s Iran, never saw his songs reach the public. With his untimely death and the political shifts of the late ’70s, his music was buried, figuratively and literally, in magnetic tape. But decades later, his great-nephew, guided by blood and artistic duty, restored those fragile reels and curated a project that feels sacred. What emerges is a 14-track collection that sounds astonishingly fresh, despite its age. These are fragments of a cultural era suspended in amber.
Sonically, the album lives at the intersection of East and West. It sways between Western pop sensibilities and classical Persian flourishes, creating a hybrid that is unmistakably Soheil’s own. Tracks like “Sadaf (Take 1)” shimmer with orchestral warmth and emotive vocals, reminiscent of the golden age of Tehran’s radio pop scene. The dreamy melancholy of “Sobh-E Khakestar” and the cinematic elegance of “Shaayad O Baayad” show just how deep Soheil’s grasp of lyrical poetry and melodic nuance was. Even within the constraints of vintage technology, the soul in his voice shines through.
What makes the listening experience truly profound is the structure of the album itself. With alternate takes of “Namake Zendegi” and “Sadaf,” the record feels like stepping into the studio with Soheil, watching him try out different inflexions, phrasing, and moods. This archival approach offers a rare, almost voyeuristic glimpse into the creative process of an artist long gone. It’s as if we’re hearing time bend, rewinding to moments that were once meant only for the ears of engineers and fellow musicians.
There’s a quiet intensity in “Yeki Bood, Neki Nabood,” a track that references the classic Persian phrase “Once upon a time,” imbuing the piece with mythic resonance. “Gole Booseh” brings a sultrier, almost chanson-inspired touch, while “Faryaadres” leans into protest-ballad territory, giving voice to Soheil’s deeper reflections on the human condition. The closing track, “Nimeh-Ye Naatamam (Instrumental),” is a haunting instrumental coda that drifts like the echo of a legacy unfinished—a fitting end to the first volume of a story still unfolding.
Much of this album’s power lies not only in Soheil’s talent but in Farbod Biglari’s reverent curation. The remastering is pristine without erasing the analogue warmth that makes the recordings so transportive. Every crackle and hiss feels intentional, a soft patina that honours the age of the source material. These songs were originally recorded in Studio Bell and Studio Pop, two legendary recording hubs of pre-revolution Iran, and that pedigree bleeds through in the production, giving the album a cinematic, era-defining richness.
But above all, “The Lost Recording Season (1974–1978) – Vol. 1“ is about reclamation. It reclaims a voice that was nearly silenced, a culture nearly dismantled, and a family’s creative heartbeat that never stopped pulsing. In restoring these songs, Farbod Biglari has honoured his great-uncle and invited listeners around the world to reconnect with a musical era that has too often been forgotten. This album stands as a historical document, a love letter, and a deeply human experience all at once.
In an age obsessed with the new, “The Lost Recording Season“ reminds us that the past still sings, if only someone cares enough to listen. This is not nostalgia for nostalgia’s sake. This is a necessary revival. Soheil’s voice, once on the brink of disappearance, now echoes once more—soft, radiant, and full of life.
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