“Pray” by Close to Monday is an enigmatic passage, a hidden threshold into another realm. From the very first notes, you’re pulled in without transition, as if stepping through the screen of a science-fiction dream.
The soundscape unfolds in dark, cinematic waves: layers of synth that shimmer like distant galaxies, murmuring in coded light. There’s something alive within this mist of sound, something watching.
Then, unexpectedly, a celestial voice emerges—pure, weightless, almost divine. It cuts through the darkness like dawn over a frozen horizon, creating a tension that feels magnetic, otherworldly. Just when you think you understand its rhythm, the piece shifts again—morphing into a pulse of raw electronic energy. Beats rise, textures ignite, and the experience turns into motion, into dance. It’s disorienting and liberating at once.
“Pray” is not bound by classic form; it’s a living cinematic journey, daring and delirious:
