
When I was a child I was always at the mercy of whatever music my parents and grandparents were listening to. I did have my own little radio that I would carry around tuned to the Detroit oldies station, and a really fun Fisher Price tape player that I would blast Disney movie soundtracks from annoying my little sister every chance I got. But the grown-ups had most of the control over the stereo dial. I loved to sing, and sing loudly from the safety of my own bedroom. When I was in choir in front of people, however, my shyness made sure I barely sang above a whisper.
My mother was a huge fan of The Carpenters and I was particularly drawn to their songs and would request their tape be played on long road trips. The song “Sing” from the 1973 album Now & Then (and featured on Sesame Street) was my absolute favorite and one that got stuck in my head. I was constantly singing it and never got tired of it.
Even as a little kid I knew there was something special about Karen Carpenter’s voice. When I learned that she also played the drums after seeing a live performance on the TV I was enthralled. I also thought it was cool that she played music with her brother. My mom devastated me one day by telling me that Karen Carpenter passed away just before I was born in 1983. “What?! How?!” My mom didn’t tell me the details of her death until I was a teenager, but I remember being very affected by this and sometimes felt her spirit was singing through my speakers. She had messages for me. She cheered me up on sad days and made my young, romantic heart begin yearning for the day I would find the love of my life and live out a fairytale dream.
In my twenties, I would return to Carpenters music either when I needed reminding of simpler times or when I knew certain songs might help me through something. “I Need to Be in Love”, “Yesterday Once More”, and “Hurting Each Other” were post-breakup songs that carried me through heartache. I had a roommate whose mood I could gauge whenever she played “Rainy Days and Mondays”. I developed a strong appreciation for “Calling Occupants of Interplanetary Craft.”
I struggled with disordered eating in my late teens and twenties and would remember the Karen Carpenter story often. She died from complications due to anorexia nervosa. Was this the underlying something I heard in the nuances of her voice? Even the duo’s happiest songs seemed to be tinged with a sadness I couldn’t put my finger on. Was Karen Carpenter a kindred spirit who understood what I was going through? Was that beautiful smile in all the wholesome-looking photographs hiding deep layers of pain?
Unlike Karen, I did recover from my eating disorder and thankfully never reached danger levels when it came to the unhealthy habit I developed of abstaining from food. I’m not going to hide the fact that I still struggle with body image and self-worth, but I manage these things much better now.
Richard Carpenter had his own struggles as well. By 1978 he was battling a Quaalude addiction and the tension that was already building over the years between the siblings caused them to go on hiatus. While Richard was in a treatment center and Karen was adamantly denying having anorexia, she decided to work on a solo album. However, the duo’s mother, Agnes Carpenter, didn’t like Karen making music without her brother and Richard himself had concerns about Karen’s health and whether or not she was strong enough to handle the workload. This solo album, Karen Carpenter, wasn’t released until 1996 and its cancellation after it was recorded was a particularly rough blow for her.
I’m not sure how the Carpenters were received when they first hit the radio waves because I wasn’t even alive then, but my mom did tell me that being a fan of theirs was something that most people hid. The famous ballads “(They Long to Be) Close to You” and “We’ve Only Just Begun” were popular wedding songs in the 1970s and 80s, or are the subject of mockery in pop culture today. I love these songs (of course I do, I’m still a romantic), and I’m also very fond of some of the covers such as Neil Sedaka’s “Solitaire” and “Mr. Postman” by The Marvelettes. I could listen to the compilation album The Singles: 1969-1973 every day and be alright with that.
The legacy of The Carpenters’ music lives on and especially through my speakers. Michael Jackson once stated them as an influence. Richard Carpenter has been hailed as a genius by some for his arrangements and compositions. He is still living and released Richard Carpenter’s Piano Songbook, 13 piano versions of classic songs including many he recorded with his sister, in 2022. When I need a 'pick-me-up' jam, I blast “Only Yesterday” and sing it at the top of my lungs. It renews my strength and keeps me going every time.
“Only yesterday when I was sad and I was lonely
You showed me the way to leave the past and all its tears behind me
Tomorrow may be even brighter than today
Since I threw my sadness away
Only yesterday”
Jennifer Patino lives in Traverse City and loves music. Check out her blog at thistlethoughts.com