Farbod Biglari Waltz for Baran – A Fully Cinematic Rain Escape

A Forgotten Melody Finds Its Moment

There’s something wildly poetic about a man chasing the ghost of a tune he wrote as a teenager – like digging up a time capsule with a guitar string still humming inside. Composer Farbod Biglari let this one simmer for years. A melody born in his early teens waited patiently, growing roots in silence until the time felt right. Then, in the quiet of his Vancouver home studio, he brought it back to life – gently, deliberately, with full awareness of what it once was and what it had become. A melody written at age 12, quietly lurking in the attic of his memory, until it resurfaced years later, carrying the scent of solitude and sky water.

I don’t say this lightly – it plays like a memory you never wrote down. Just waited for the right sound to pull it loose. That’s exactly how it felt when I first heard it, like someone had put music to a moment I hadn’t realized was still sitting quietly in me.

And Farbod, being the kind of artist who sees sound as narrative, let the imperfections breathe, left space for pauses, and gave his younger self the floor without dressing it up for show.

When Collaboration Feels Like Cinema

Now, let’s talk about Maria Duque. The arranger who took Farbod’s melody and gave it a spine made of lush harmonies and cinematic textures. The two worked together remotely, a composer in Vancouver, an arranger elsewhere. But somehow the track feels like they sat in the same rainy room sipping espresso and agreeing on which part of the heart to press next.

Maria brought in the strings like she knew exactly where the silence hurt. You can hear the care. Every swell and retreat has a purpose. I like how Farbod puts it: their exchange was fluid, detailed, and obsessively narrative-driven. That’s two artists dissecting emotion across time zones, and doing it well.

And here’s what makes this whole process more than a checklist of musical decisions – it wasn’t done in a glitzy studio with red carpets and fancy mixers. Farbod Biglari started it in a quiet personal space. A room like yours, probably. Where memory lingers in the curtains and every reverb feels like a second thought.

From Personal Archive to Public Moment

Waltz for Baran feels like part of a bigger map Farbod’s been sketching for years. His entire approach is rooted in emotional archaeology, letting the dust stay on the relics. You hear it in his influences too. He nods to Stelvio Cipriani, the Italian master of cinematic melancholy. And it shows. The track holds Cipriani’s romantic elegance without sounding like a fanboy remake.

There’s no chorus to sing along to, no drop waiting in ambush. What you get is a careful piano waltz through memory, melancholy, and the kind of rain that lingers just enough to shift your mood.

And Farbod’s not stopping here. He’s been performing solo renditions of classics like “Time in a Bottle” and bilingual takes on “Corcovado. But now he’s prepping a showcase of original work – including this waltz – for intimate venues that still value a story.

The man’s also preserving family legacy, having released archived recordings of his great-uncle, a 1970s Iranian singer, under his own label. That’s personal history turning into public offering. It gives you a sense that nothing in Farbod’s world is random, and everything ties back to something emotional.

Final Note (and a Little Rain)

You don’t need to be a classical head or a film-score nerd to feel Waltz for Baran. You just need to have loved something once. Or lost it. Or both. As Farbod said, “Some melodies are like forgotten letters – they find their way back to you when you’re finally ready to understand them.” That hit me.

So go on. Listen to it. Let the rain do its work. And if it settles somewhere in you, follow Farbod on Spotify, YouTube, Bandcamp, or Facebook. That’s where the rest of the story keeps unfolding.

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