Carrie Marshall Slows Time with a Velvet Whisper on ‘Under the Moonlight’

Carrie Marshall’s “Under the Moonlight” is one of those tracks that walks in slow, says everything it needs to say with a raised eyebrow and a half-smile, then lingers just long enough for you to miss it when it’s gone.

Right from the jump, the arrangement is soft as silk. The piano’s got this lounge-laden glow to it—nothing showy, just gracefully draped chords that give the whole thing room to breathe. The brush drums tiptoe behind like they’re trying not to wake the neighbors, and the upright bass hums along like it’s gently swaying in the corner of the room, glass of red wine in hand.



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And then Carrie Marshall steps in. Her voice? Butter. No, velvet butter. It’s not about vocal acrobatics here—it’s about tone, restraint, and this unshakable intimacy. She’s channeling a bit of Norah Jones, some Diana Krall, sure, but she’s doing it with a wink of Southern charm that gives it its own flavor.

You don’t feel like you’re being performed to. You feel like you’ve just stumbled into the middle of someone’s quiet, private moment—and they’re letting you stay.

SCORE 9/10
This is for the evenings. The ones with candlelight.


Natali Abernathy Avatar