video-section-banner-image

Behrang Ghodrati - Pure

Behrang Ghodrati’s latest 6-track EP Pure feels like opening a door you probably shouldn’t, then staying because you need to know what’s inside. You know how some records aim for replay value. You can pinpoint it from the very first listen. But then there are works like Pure that are designed for complete sensory immersion. Honestly, listening to it was a full-body experience for me. Across six pieces, Behrang Ghodrati builds something cinematic, heavy and strangely intimate, using absolutely no conventional songwriting tricks to get there. It starts with Pure I, which strips everything back to a solitary operatic female voice. There are no distractions or any easy melodies. Just sorrow hanging in the air. It feels ancient and immediate at the same time, carrying a kind of sadness that can only be felt and not spoken about. Pure II continues that emotional thread and deepens it. The vocals sound hypnotic, almost ritualistic. There is a pull to it that makes time feel slower. The added piano and violin version later in the EP gives the same emotions a different shape, softer but equally as devastating. Then comes Pure III, where the mood shifts. The operatic vocals remain, but now they expand into something closer to a church choir or gospel arrangement. The mood gets darker. There is a sense of collective grief here, as though voices are carrying something too large for one person alone. Pure IV pushes further into full cinematic drama. The choir swells, and everything starts to feel larger than life without becoming overwhelming. By the time Pure V arrives, strings and piano take over. The orchestral arrangement opens the space and gives the EP its grand finale. It's beauty feels cosmic, distant and deeply humane all at once. Behrang Ghodrati's Pure could soundtrack grief, in my opinion. It's primal and visceral from start to finish. Fans of cinematic, atmospheric scores will probably imagine this fitting right into a movie like The Banshees of Inisherin, where silence and sadness creep into every scene.

  • 2026
  • 19 min
  • 10
  • English (US)