Listening to Jacre and Lucie Glang’s collaborative single, “Holy,” is an act of calibration. The song doesn’t shout; it quietly rearranges the furniture in the room, asking you to find a new, more comfortable place to sit. In a world practically vibrating with manufactured urgency and digital anguish, this track proposes a radical alternative: turning away. It’s a slow, deliberate retreat into a sanctuary built of acoustic strings, shared breath, and the hushed sanctity of the natural world.
For a moment, I wasn’t thinking of folk music at all, but of those mischievous doodles medieval monks would hide in the margins of illuminated manuscripts—tiny, joyful acts of personal expression amid overwhelming piety. That’s the feeling here. This is a song about drawing your own little defiant snail in the corner of a furious world.
The voices of Jacre’s Julian Ransom and Lucie Glang are the heartwood of this quiet rebellion. They don’t just harmonize; they weave together like ivy on an old stone wall, each finding strength and pattern in the other. They sing of leaving the noise behind, not as an act of surrender, but as a profound choice to consecrate what truly matters: a piece of earth and a specific person. The instrumentation is sparse and intentional, leaving space for the song’s central theme to breathe – the idea that true holiness is found not in a cathedral, but in the shared silence between two people watching the light change through the trees.
The track is a beautiful, necessary balm. It presents a gentle secession from the madness, a two-person nation founded on stillness. But in a world that never stops yelling, is it a peace we can truly hold?
