Reza Vali: The Darkness of Fury
Navona Records

In featuring five works spanning four decades, The Darkness of Fury presents as representative a portrait of Iranian-American composer Reza Vali as one might hope to find. Complementing two pieces performed by Württembergische Philharmonie Reutlingen (WPR) under the direction of conductor Fawzi Haimor are three that respectively couple the orchestra with soloists, violinist Timo de Leo, cellist Carol Ou, and Sohrab Pournazeri on kamancheh. Born in Ghazvin, Iran in 1952, Vali studied at Tehran's Conservatory of Music and Vienna's Academy of Music before moving to the United States to study at the University of Pittsburgh and earn his Ph.D. in 1985. The cross-cultural blend between Western European classical traditions, Iranian folk music, and Persian forms marks the music Vali's been making since settling in Pittsburgh in 1978. A faculty member of the School of Music at Carnegie Mellon University since 1988, Vali has developed an intensely personal style that folds those strands into tapestries that in some cases tip the balance in favour of Western forms and in others Persian.

The juxtaposition of those elements is conspicuously evident in Châhârsegâh, the concerto he wrote for kamancheh, percussion, harp, piano, and strings in 2023, but it's present throughout the recording in myriad ways. His deployment of a microtonal tuning system imbues his music withal Persian character; at the same time, he doesn't shy away from working with Western-associated conventions. While each work is in a single-movement form, three are compact and two long-form, Châhârsegâh nearly seventeen minutes in duration and The Dervish and the Magus twenty-nine (in fact, the kamancheh concerto comprises two movements, but they're played without pause).

Vali's Western side is dominant in the overture-styled title work, written in 2012 and delivered with volcanic energy by the orchestra. Raging violently at its start, the music exudes merciless power in its evocation of war's brutality and calamitous impact. Tenderness emerges, however, when the music softens to a whisper and a solo violin rises from the ashes. Still, any hope of lasting peace is banished when the aggressive tone returns to re-establish the timpani-driven throb of the opening fanfare. The subsequent Châhârsegâh resets the tone when it begins with Pournazeri's unaccompanied kamâncheh, the work's title a conflation of two dastgahs (modes) used in Persian classical music, Châhârgâh and Segâh. The sound of the small Iranian spike fiddle is entrancing, especially when heard alone, but the sinuously flowing work is no less compelling when the spotlight is shared with other instruments. Six minutes into the piece, the music increases in momentum and urgency as the full instrumental arsenal weighs in and a Persian frame drum and kamâncheh engage in a folk dance-like episode; a later cadenza returns the spike fiddle to the spotlight before the full complement ushers the work to a dynamic close. Playing with authority throughout, Pournazeri is never less than commanding.

Composed in 1995 to memorialize Vali's father on the tenth anniversary of his death, Funèbre couples violinist Timo de Leo with string orchestra in a poignant performance. Drawing in part from the opening harmonies of Wagner's prelude to Tristan und Isolde, the ten-minute work nevertheless exudes a Persian character in the cry of the solo violin. An interesting juxtaposition emerges between its passionate expression of grief and comparatively subdued expressions by the strings that suggest a more reserved form of grieving. Critical to the impact of Funèbre is the performance of the soloist, and de Leo imposes himself on the work magnificently. In applying the Châhârgâh mode to a work for ten solo strings, 2022's Châhârgâh (Calligraphy No. 19) seemingly combines elements of Châhârsegâh and Funèbre, the Persian dimension of Vali's music again dominant. While Châhârgâh is generally regarded by Iranians as a joyful mode, the tone of the work is mournful, the seven-minute setting registering as a prolonged meditation of sorrow and supplication. The Darkness of Fury concludes on a towering note with The Dervish and the Magus(1994/2012), which is ostensibly a cello concerto but is cast as an imaginary ballet for three characters: a dervish (cello soloist), an evil magus (orchestra), and a naïve commoner musically represented by a simple folksong. While seven scenes are delineated, the work unfolds in one continuous movement with Ou, like Pournazeri in Châhârsegâh, engaged in an ongoing tug of war with the orchestra. While soloist and ensemble are interlaced throughout and are both integral to the work, it's Ou who distinguishes the performance most, her slow-building cadenza but one arresting moment of many. All involved advance through passages of contrasting mood, tempo, and style, the music blaring in a manner reminiscent of The Miraculous Mandarin at one moment and in the next emoting gently during intimate exchanges between the soloist and orchestra members. Blustery and soothing sections alternate as the dramatic travelogue develops, the work both cello concerto and orchestral tone painting.

October 2025