#Jacreprofile

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Jacre's Grip: Holding On to 'Just Hold On' Can a winding river be hopeful? By its very nature, it doesn’t know where it might encounter calm, rapids, or an abrupt tumble into the abyss of a waterfall. Yet, as I pressed play on Jacre's latest offering, "Just Hold On", I’m reminded of rivers with their relentless journey—steady but vibrant, deliberate yet turbulent, all flowing toward eventual peace. This single pulses with that same paradox: movement tied closely to tension, pushing every listener gently toward an emotional apex where resilience isn't a hushed secret but the centerpiece. https://open.spotify.com/album/7419cZm4Yw4CQXxP5doEWP?si=etZMdRYsR2eDLvwojAvR0g Jacre’s hushed tones carry conviction, but the delicacy doesn’t dilute the strength in the song. There's air between every note, every lyric, as though the song itself is creating space for you to think, to feel, to dig a little deeper. And digging feels essential. As the strings flirt with melancholy or perhaps restorative optimism—who’s to say without tenuous guessing?—one finds themselves caught in that fine thread connecting the now to the yet-to-be: hope. The chorus breathes reassurance, not with grandeur but with insistence. It's a quiet reminder you discover when you're wandering alone on days steeped in faded light and meaning (the kind of meaning you're still rediscovering after everything fell apart last year, maybe just for you... maybe for the whole world somehow). [caption id="attachment_58056" align="alignnone" width="1152"] Jacre's Grip: Holding On to 'Just Hold On'[/caption] Strangely, the song feels like an ambient conversation with a Virginia Woolf passage—flowing with words disguised as soft breezes and yet leaving imprints sharper than you'd admit. Resilience hurts, Jacre is telling us—like leaning forward in a wild storm knowing you'll eventually find calm, if you just hold on. And for that, the solace offered here lands in the chest slowly, like a feather stalled in its fall. Will this single rewrite the genre? Hardly. But what it probably seeks isn’t tectonic shifts—it’s one quiet listener deciding against giving up today. A small impact can still be seismic. Does that count enough? All rivers wake the ocean, eventually. Follow Jacre on Website, Facebook, Twitter, YouTube, Instagram and TikTok.

[musicarenagh]

Jacre's "If You See Her": A Bittersweet Farewell You could say “If You See Her” feels like the moment just before you spill coffee on your favorite book—tense, deeply personal, but somehow inevitable. Jacre, a.k.a Julian Ransom, seems to have the rare ability to drag listeners right to the precipice of emotional chaos, all while cradling us in the soft cello arms of Harley Eblen’s strings. https://open.spotify.com/track/3p6SpVSYdjY6LQR5rOayaZ?si=e3d96638d4ff4d24 This is not a song for the impatient. It lingers, inviting silence to co-star with its cascading piano and Ransom’s voice, which doesn’t so much fly as it hovers—tentative, like it might break at any second. His storytelling smacks you with adult concerns. We're talking about leaving somebody behind, but still loving them fiercely. A slow burn on an empty beach, if said beach is inside your chest cavity. There's no urgency in the melody—just a heavy, deliberate rhythm, cradling heartbreak like it’s not entirely a bad place to be. Let’s talk about the message here. Isn't it odd? Love and distance, care and disappearance—the paradoxes Jacre addresses taste like tomorrow's regrets. How does one reconcile love with leaving? Where does that intense desire for someone’s well-being live when your own heart isn’t in rhythm with theirs anymore? It’s a question sharper than a Shakespearean tragedy but less theatrical, more real-life sledgehammer. [caption id="attachment_56968" align="alignnone" width="2000"] Jacre's "If You See Her": A Bittersweet Farewell[/caption] The production quality, thanks to Dominic Romano, is like finding a snow globe with the perfect amount of gold flecks—it shines, but quietly. Eliott Glinn’s mixing gives air to the piano, and Philip Marsden’s mastering holds everything up just enough so it doesn’t collapse under its own emotional weight. In the end, "If You See Her" feels less like listening and more like eavesdropping on a gentle breakdown. Not everyone will get it, but those who do? Well, good luck looking away. Follow Jacre on Website, Facebook, Twitter, Youtube, Instagram and TikTok.