Feature Image Credit: Guy Eppel
Inside Keith Carne’s ‘Magenta Light’
“I want to create a little 25-minute world for people to enter,” Keith Carne tells me late in the evening from his hotel room in Sweden, a country he’s passing through on tour, as we begin the first of our one-hour interview sessions. “The sound of this record is almost a summation of all the things that I listen to, and have listened to.”
He speaks thoughtfully while carrying himself humbly, with an easygoing demeanor that belies his tour-worn rock schedule. A neatly kept mustache anchors his face, giving him a retro-leaning look. His hair falls loosely short to the sides, a bit tousled, but like any other dreamy pop star, it is considered. The stripes on his polo shirt give him a more relaxed, almost approachable quality with his otherwise calm, cool, and collected demeanor. There is a focused expression in his eyes, indicating that he is giving equal thought and consideration to how you feel in your moment to the way he feels in his moment. Even through the screen, via a Zoom conversation, the simplicity gives a magical and simpler feel that people often revisit for comfort. The overall impression he gives sits somewhere between Beck’s offbeat ease, the laid-back polish of Sugar Ray’s late-‘90s cool, and the introspective warmth of the Dave Matthews Band.
These days, in the present day, Keith Carne has been quite busy drumming for “We Are Scientists,” teaching in Manhattan while he’s home, and recording often with several different artists in the gaps between tours across Europe. His debut record, Magenta Light, arrives in the middle of that motion, shaped in fragments of time carved out wherever possible, and whatever time he could find between commitments.
At first, Magenta Light feels like a memory more than a statement, something felt before it’s understood. A small universe was created from late-night music making, travel days, and other moments in between. These moments all contribute to the overall structure of the universe without ever really being recognized or noticed. But beneath the record’s easygoing, nostalgic surface, there’s also something more personal; the time he spends away from his wife. That quiet distance sits at the emotional center of the record, shaping its tone without ever overpowering it. It also feeds directly into the album’s visual world, the cover’s single, suspended eye releasing a continuous tear through layers of deep pink, and the guiding image behind it, a vivid “magenta light,” first envisioned by her, that holds both warmth and separation at once.
Carne doesn’t frame Magenta Light as a departure so much as something he could no longer hold back. “I couldn’t deny anymore that I had ideas… melodies and harmonies that I was desperate to get out,” he says. “It really required me to recreate the time.” That time, when it came, was limited and something he had to create for himself. The record was built in pieces, between lessons in Manhattan, between sessions for other artists, and between long stretches on the road. Instead of working against that pace, the way the album unfolds reflects it. Rather than forcing everything into a single, uninterrupted period of time, there’s a quiet openness between the pieces, a sense that each piece was slowed to take form and arrive on its own terms rather than being forced into place.
For someone who has spent years shaping music from behind the drum kit, the shift wasn’t about stepping forward as much as it was about making decisions. “What I had to do for myself was limit options and really make decisions,” he says. “My role… was to take lots of ideas and then actually decide how I wanted to flesh these things out.” That sense of landing on the moon, between openness and focus, really defines the record. The songs on the 25-minute record feel open and intimate, energetic and calm. When they hit, they float and shimmer; when they do hit, they know exactly where they should. Carne describes it simply as instinct, the same internal compass he relied on as a collaborator, now turned as an inward guide. “My only guiding light,” he says, “was really… the magenta light inside of me.”
Even structurally, Magenta Light resists sharp edges. Instrumental passages move between vocal tracks not as breaks, but as extensions, allowing the record to unfold more like a continuous thought than a series of separate songs. Carne describes them as “little doorways,” moments to reset without leaving the world entirely. When he talks about influence, the range initially sounds sprawling: spiritual jazz, ambient music, indie rock, and emo, but the connections are more intuitive than planned. He points to artists like Pharoah Sanders and Fred Again as emotional touchstones, not opposites but parallels; each in their own way, channeling a kind of raw expressiveness that blurs the line between euphoria and sadness. In that sense, Magenta Light isn’t so much a mix of genres as it is a blending of feelings. “I just want people to step into it,” he says. For 25 minutes, that world holds.
Magenta Light Tracklist:
Totally Liminal (3:09)
Keep Away (3:28)
36 & Counting (1:14)
37 Hours (3:37)
Contortionist Jazz Exotica (1:32)
Look for the Moon (4:02)
Mist Trail (2:08)
The Falls (2:27)
Click Here to Stream Magenta Light
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Anthony Mclaude, the enigmatic figure known as Rock & Roll’s Best Kept Secret, delves into the world of music journalism with a raw and unapologetic pen. From established icons to up-and-coming talents, Mclaude fearlessly reviews and reveals the diverse sounds that shape our musical landscape.
Raised in a Christian household by a single mother and grandmother in the 1990s, Mclaude’s journey into the world of rock ‘n’ roll began at a young age. The soulful melodies of The Rolling Stones and The Beatles, mixed with the pop sensibilities of Madonna and Alanis Morissette, created a soundtrack that would influence his future path.
A pivotal moment came in 7th grade when Mclaude’s storytelling prowess caught the attention of his teacher, Mrs. DeFeo. Her words of encouragement ignited a fire within him, propelling him towards a future in writing. Fast forward fifteen years, and Mclaude found himself studying journalism at Cumberland County College, honing his skills as a reporter for The Voice.
His dedication and passion for community journalism led him to a position at The People’s Press of Millville, where he made his mark with insightful articles and press releases. Collaborations with publications like Eclectic Shades, Rock At Night, and New Noise Magazine further solidified Mclaude’s reputation as a rising star in the world of music journalism.
With each byline, Mclaude continues to push the boundaries of his craft, capturing the essence of artists and their music with a unique perspective that sets him apart in the industry. As Rock & Roll’s Best Kept Secret, his journey is just beginning, with a future as bright and promising as the music he so passionately writes about.