Enjoying theCarpenters remains a controversial stance in some circles and the new two-disccollection, marking the 40th anniversary of this brother-sisterduo’s recording career, produces evidence in their defense and for theprosecution. Some of the tracks are total dreck, barely distinguished in theirsaccharine cheer from their contemporaries, the Donnie and Marie Osmond. Andyet, at their best, they were masterful in the craft of pop music,multitracking themselves into a harmonic choir, merging traditional andelectric instruments into moody orchestrations and incorporating splashes ofjazz for nice effect.
Richard Carpenter, thestudio wiz, was the musical progeny of Les Paul with an omnivore’s ear forsound and a love for the technology of the recording studio. But Karen, as thesinger, was always the focal point. She couldn’t be called soulful but herpitch-perfect voice sounded committed to the words she sang and the emotionsthey stood for, especially in songs of loneliness and alienation (“Superstar,”“Rainy Days and Mondays”). On “Masquerade,” she displayed potential as a jazzsinger, a direction she might have pursued if death hadn’t intervened.
