Friday Night Jukebox, Vol. DLXVII--The Carpenters: (They Long to Be) Close to You

 When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie that's...me being (nine days) late (but two days in a row!) again....

While I remember this week's tune from its initial release (hard not to--it was a massive hit that seemed to get played on the radio by the hour), I didn't much care for its syrupy sweetness at the age of eleven, though I do recall my sister having the album and she and my parents both liking it very much.  No, my appreciation for the song came when I saw Rick Moranis' character in the 1989 movie Parenthood sing it acapella to his wife (played by Harley Jane Kozak) in the middle of her classroom.  Amazing that a scene in a movie can change how one feels about a song....

I wrote about The Carpenters in Vol. CLI, and as Karen is still singing in the Great Rock and Roll Concert in the Sky, and Richard is still overseeing their work, there really isn't much to add to their legacy.  I did not, however, list a link to their prolific discography and I am using this post to rectify that oversight right here.

Fun Fact:  Just to show you that time is the great equalizer, The Carpenters went from being a sappy schmaltzy shitty band in the 1970s to ranking #10 on Rolling Stone's list of the twenty greatest duos of all time in 2015.

"(They Long to Be) Close to You" was the first single released from their 1970 album, the rather artfully (thankful there's so many synonyms for clever) entitled Close to You.  The single would be the first of their career to reach #1 (with a bullet!), while the album would peak at #2.  The album--see time/equalizer comment above--was ranked #175 on Rolling Stone's list of the 500 greatest albums of all-time.

Written by pop tunesmiths extraordinaire Burt Bacharach and Hal David, "(They Long to Be) Close to You" is as gorgeous of a love song as you'll ever hear.  Bacharach's melody soars throughout the song, and David's lyrics add just the right touch to the effervescent music.  Jack Daugherty's production is grand, from the sweeping background vocals to the false ending in the last minute.  And the "Wah-ah-ahs" that precede "close to you" again and again and again at the end of the song are to die for.  Karen's vocals (which absolutely carry the song) reach right into your heart and Richard's piano tickles the senses.  Just a wondrous effort from every corner of song making, and an incredible pop music masterpiece.

Lyric Sheet: "Why do stars fall down from the sky/Every time you walk by?/Just like me, they long to be/Close to you..."

Enjoy:

Fuck Donald Trump

Peace,

emaycee

Friday Night Jukebox, Vol. CLI--The Carpenters: Superstar

The journey that The Carpenters took as a band, from syrupy sweet, goodie-goodie, middle of the road musicians that none of the cool kids listened to, to a band that was covered (mostly excellently) by a number of alternative acts on If I Were a Carpenter (that many cool kids listened to) was most certainly not the road most traveled.  And I would be remiss if I didn't admit that I pretty much followed the same path with their music--in their heyday I thought their music was pure shit, but as I've aged, I've come to appreciate just how good of a pop band they really were.

Formed in the mid-sixties in Southern California, brother and sister Richard (piano and producing) and Karen (drums and lead vocals) Carpenter had a hell of a run until the early eighties.  Between 1969 and 1981 they would release ten albums (five of which went platinum), toured extensively (performing over a hundred per year between '71 and '75), and for most of those years, it was hard to go more than a month or two without a hit Carpenters single on Top 40 radio.  Over the course of their career, they would sell over 100 million records, win three Grammy Awards, have 3 #1 singles, five #2 singles, and numerous gold and platinum albums.  Sadly, as is often the case, fame took its toll--Richard developed an addiction to Quaaludes in the late seventies, and Karen suffered from anorexia nervosa, complications from which would lead to her death from heart failure at the far too young age of 33 in 1983.  As noted above, their legacy has grown exponentially through the years--Richard for his production skills (I'd always thought he was window dressing for his younger sister, but after doing my half-assed weekly research, I realized he was really the brains behind the group's success), and Karen for her other worldly vocals.  Petitions have been started to get the band inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, but supposedly they're not rock and roll enough for the Hall--as compared to those balls out rock and rollers and Hall inductees Abba and Madonna...

Fun Fact:  Early in their career the Carpenters took a job on Main Street in Disneyland playing 20's music in one of the shops.  As time wore on, folks would ask them to perform more modern numbers, which the Carpenters gladly obliged.  Unfortunately, this did not please the folks running Disneyland, and the Carpenters were fired for being "too radical."  Betcha Black Sabbath never got fired from an amusement park...

Released in 1971 on their oh-so-cleverly named Carpenters album, "Superstar" would go on to reach #2 on the Billboard Hot 100 (it couldn't surpass Rod Stewart's classic "Maggie May").  It was written by Bonnie Bramlett (of Delaney and Bonnie fame) and Leon Russell (of Leon Russell fame), and has been covered by artists too numerous to mention--though the Carpenters version is considered the definitive version.

"Superstar" tells the lonely tale of a groupie sitting at home listening to her love interest on the radio and wishing he were with her--which, as is often the case in the life of a groupie, ain't gonna happen.  From the song's beginning--a yearning oboe (an oboe! this is why I love music so much--who'd ever think of an oboe in a pop song?), to the yearning horns, to the yearning orchestra, to Karen's Carpenter's yearning vocals--it's a song about, well, uh, yearning.  There's a nice back and forth between the slow pace of the stanzas which builds to the crescendo of the chorus (which, by my unofficial count, holds the record for the most uses of the word "baby" in a chorus:  seven)--but in the end it all works because of Karen Carpenter's wondrous vocals.  She captures the sorrow and resulting loneliness of unrequited love about as well as any pop singer ever has, and it turns what could have been a desultory song into a classic about love, music, and loneliness.

Lyric Sheet:  "Your guitar, it sounds so sweet and clear/But you're not really here/It's just the radio...

Enjoy:

Fuck Donald Trump,
emaycee