Death has always been a sure-fire tonic for flagging pop-music careers, but few have reaped benefits as great as the Carpenters. Singer Karen’s 1983 death from anorexia nervosa did more than boost their CD sales; it bestowed the squeaky-clean duo with a posthumous hipness (albeit tinged with irony) that eluded them during Karen’s life.
Here is the first in-depth look at these Nixon-era songsters. Unabashedly an authorized biography, Coleman traces Richard and Karen’s career from their humble New Haven roots to their triumphant years ruling the Top 40 all the way through their slow decline in the late ‘70s and early ‘80s. Mindful of who his sources were, Coleman unstintingly praises their music (even “Calling Occupants of Interplanetary Craft”!) and trashes the media for dismissing the C’s in their heyday. Naturally, no mention is made of Todd Haynes’ underground film Superstar, a bizarrely brilliant dramatization of the Carpenters story enacted with Barbie dolls.
Nonetheless, there are enough warts to keep the book out of the hagiography section. Between descriptions of Karen’s eating disorder, Richard’s Quaalude problem, and mother Agnes’ domineering tendencies, Coleman delivers plenty of reality to offset such saccharine exercises as “Top of the World” and “Sing.” Some of the best parts are Richard and Karen’s romantic travails. The real Carpenter love life was closer to “Rainy Days and Mondays” and “Superstar” than “We’ve Only Just Begun.” One of Karen’s few promising relationships was quietly scuttled on orders of high-ranking Carpenter management (Herb? Agnes?), while Richard’s dates were always running afoul of his parents and sister. You can only imagine the stuff that’s between the lines. It may not be Carpenter Babylon, but it’s vital reading for anyone who’s ever fallen (no matter how guiltily) under the spell of Karen’s haunting voice.
JM
Publisher: Harper Perennial
Paperback: 352 pages
Illustrated