Review: Lead Sister - The Story of Karen Carpenter
The iconic voice that covered a devastating disease
As I finished up Lucy O’Brien’s ‘Lead Sister: The Story of Karen Carpenter,’ the description of a trip O’Brien took to Downey, CA (home of the Carpenters) and then enveloping herself in Studio B at Henson Recording Studios (formerly A&M Studios) was like a small homecoming. And yet as I start to think about what a review in the standard sense is, I can’t help but be moved by my emotions, tied as they are to the 1970s and Karen’s voice. Heartbreaking. Lonely. At an impasse in the simplest form.
As O’Brien traces the path from New Haven, Connecticut to Downey, California, you come to understand from the 2023 perspective exactly what is going on. I know I felt palpable frustration at Karen’s circumstances: enjoying an unfiltered life as a gregarious tomboy, yet seeing how the foundation was being laid down: her mother Agnes - a woman of little demonstrative affection - was pushing Richard to the forefront. He was the prodigal son, the one destined for stardom. And Harold, the reticent husband - getting by in post-WWII suburbia, but wanting better - would accept a better job and uproot the family to California. Karen was in a sense, lost.
Removed from friends and a life she knew, to be deposited in the harsh climate of SoCal’s cement landscape, Karen struggled for self. The palpable, confusing sense of where she would be or more precisely what she would be. No question with Richard: it was the music. But for Karen… what?
The savior was drums. The marching band at Downey High School had one and Karen wanted to beat in the front line. The glorious snare drum, as O’Brien noted. But where to go with that, all drum patterns and sticks? A proper kit, a Ludwig kit played with gusto by her idols Buddy Rich and Ringo Starr. That’s where it all had to go. Making a noise. And as the cliche goes, forging an identity to the beat of a different drum.
Karen’s natural swing ability and studious ear practicing to songs such as Dave Brubeck’s “Take Five” were endless sources of happiness and fulfillment. So, how would this transpire into something she could give to the world? Where would she fit in amongst the girls when she wanted so desperately wanted to fit in with the boys and their sound?
Richard’s empathy for his younger sister - while allowing him to showcase his abilities for arranging and playing the piano - had Karen, himself, and friend Wes Jacobs as ‘The Richard Carpenter Trio,’ securing a spot on Your All-American College Show in 1968. With Karen wearing the requisite groovy white go-go boots, she played her heart out. And sang. And they won the trophy.
The next logical step would be stardom! The domino effect that tumbles us down that path, should we be so lucky, can be very slippery at times. As those notices started to happen, Richard was seeing firsthand what effect Karen was having with those performances. They had struck a deal with RCA, but the psychedelic times were a-changin’ for music and they were let go. Was this happening? Were these music majors from Cal Tech gonna drop the ball - or run with it?
And what was the ultimate goal? Karen didn’t like Cal Tech. Hated the academic life and would be fine tagging along with Richard. When the two morphed into Spectrum (with three fellow students), the gnawing unseen ghost began to rear its ugly head: as O’Brien writes “someone” suggested that Karen should lose weight. She had been variously called out for being chubby and stocky. Body shaming in all its glory was the accepted norm. And while Karen never fit into that category by any standard, it was enough of an insult that Agnes started her on the Stillman diet - water, vitamin supplements, and no fatty foods.
Despite appearances, and with growing awareness of their talent, the Carpenters were approached for a Ford Motor Company advertising deal: $50,000 each and a new Mustang. Surely, a record contract was as O’Brien noted “just around the corner.”
In due course, they were able to secure that contract with A&M Records (home of Karen’s idol Herb Alpert), and the debut Offering was released in October 1969… not to great fanfare until the Lennon-McCartney track “Ticket To Ride” received airplay. The album was then re-released a year later, renamed Ticket To Ride and the brother-sister act began the slow ascent upward.
The bumpy ride was picking up speed with the Burt Bachrach-penned “(They Long To Be) Close To You,” even as Agnes was the mental strong-arm, verbally pushing Richard as the star and Karen as ‘the drummer.’ But as 1970 sped on “We’ve Only Just Begun” gave the public Karen as the angel: the voice that was to touch the world had coalesced into the warm, comforting three-octave contralto a generation didn’t know it was craving for.
And while Karen’s charm and voice could turn even Elvis Presley and later John Lennon into adoring fans, her self-doubt and depression were hounds at the door. The purchase of an ‘all-family home’ - despite the duo’s success - and Karen’s reticent nature to date anyone outside of the Carpenters’ entourage, further closed the curtain on what should have been an open forum, a pair of young kids able to embrace their success and share in the love of their fans and followers.
A stark song that Karen made her own - “Superstar” - epitomized 1971 and what was ahead. Written by Bonnie Bramlett & Leon Russell, Karen’s dark one-take delivery of a celebrity-stalking groupie was in direct contrast to her clean-cut, almost child-like existence: living with her parents and Richard and being told to tone down any offensive viewpoints. And one of the acts that left Karen vulnerable: leaving the drumkit and moving center stage. The message was: You are a commodity. Sell the song.
As for being on “Top Of The World,” in 1973, those sentiments were on point. However, the pervasive sentiment that still had a strong hold on American women was find a man, settle down, have children. Even as the duo was being lauded for their wholesomeness at the White House by President Nixon, Karen was essentially a career woman. She admitted to “plowing through relationships,” and the double standards of gender conditioning were on full display: she resented the girlfriends that encroached on Richard’s precious time with the career they were working so hard at.
The release of Now & Then was a bright star that showed the public a nostalgic side mixed with a slicker sound and homage to the simple ‘60s of California youth. Encapsulated by the upbeat promise of “Sing,” the mournful reminiscing of “Yesterday Once More” and the throwback medley on side two… all coupled with Karen’s drumming and Richard’s orchestration and arrangements made this release complete with a capital C. But the dark side was just about ready to rear its ugly head.
Karen and Richard had forged links with other show-business families like The Osmonds and Pat Boone. Boone’s eldest daughter Cherry, however, was hiding the same destructive particle of fame that Karen was: anorexia nervosa. The pressures Cherry had dealt with and the ascent that Karen was pushing through had the same effect. Both had an eating disorder that no one could understand, give meaning to, or empathize with. Cherry knew Karen’s private demon was a chronic threat to her very being. But what could she do?
That threat was spinning wildly around Karen with the suffocating presence of her mother, no privacy, and no identity. Her romantic life was a series of flits and misses, even with musicians who shared her sense of wacky humor and intelligence. Sure, they were concerned about her thinness - what there was to be worried about, right? - but Karen’s fear was climbing high as ‘Carpentermania’ and her self-image of being fat, ugly, and suspect dieting regiments were pushed aside by the punishing schedules thrust upon the duo.
Richard - who was keeping his Quaalude addiction underground - was in a thinly-veiled world of denial with his and Karen’s issues. The release of Horizon, and the touring to promote it, unfortunately, came to a disastrous ending: Karen’s weight had plummeted to 91 pounds and hospitalization was deemed a necessary intervention.
But the ‘colitis’ as Karen euphemistically called it, had the family on edge. Karen’s very existence had built a foundation for her family, her record company, and those that worked for her. Her persona was defined by cleanliness, tidiness and rigid control, traits noted by close friend Olivia Newton-John which “could have been obsessive-compulsive disorder.” The refrigerator at her condominium was empty; pots and pans went unused. She was clearly in desperate need of help.
But first: career. 1976 introduced their new manager Jerry Weintraub. A real heavyweight in show business. However, A Kind Of Hush was released to dimished sales. What to do? Get the duo out for a bigger production, bigger scale, better theatrics, and better pacing.
The one idea that worked for Karen out of this endeavor was her minutes-long drum solo. Dressed in jeans and a t-shirt emblazoned with Lead Sister (from a mistranslation in Japanese by way of ‘lead singer’), Karen for these times on stage was in glorious entertainment heaven, even as her love life was taking hits left and right - from her family to handlers. It was a no-win situation she masked in performing.
While The Sex Pistols cause havoc in their brief time at A&M, Karen and Richard co-produced and released Passages in September 1977. While retrospectively a brave step outside their comfort zone, “Don’t Cry For Me Argentina” and the zoned-out spacey “Calling Occupants of Interplanetary Craft” now feel 21st century-inspired more than the requisite 70s AOR that was the duo’s staple category.
The effect of Karen’s illness, as she manipulated those around her, and covered up anorexia’s true identity, kept pushing her away. Her cognitive abilities started to suffer, and her trust was wasted away. She began a relationship with Tom Bahler - an old friend and vaulted producer - that had marriage written all over it. But Bahler had a daughter and with Agnes’ gripings that he would take advantage of the family, led to Karen amicably call it quits.
Richard in his own way was also about to call it quits. His Quaalude dependency was creating havoc. His shaking hands and anxiety were sky-high from the drug. He couldn’t physically go with Karen to London to oversee work on their Christmas album (which contained the now classic “Merry Christmas Darling”) and as 1979 approached, Karen was adamant Richard get help even as he snapped back she do the same. In January he was admitted to the Menninger Clinic in Topeka, Kansas to start rehab.
The following months were a toxic mix of Karen’s continuing denials, impatience at Richard’s absence, and the hope that recording a solo album might show some break in her co-dependency with food, family, and an uncertain future. Moving to New York City and enlisting producer Phil Ramone appeared to have a positive effect on Karen’s outlook, especially with the adult song choices and the camaraderie she had with the studio musicians who stood in awe of her mature vocal delivery.
When Karen arrived back in Los Angeles at the start of 1980, tho, the studio - including Richard, Alpert and Jerry Moss listened to the album. The mood was stone silence. A&M decided to cancel the album. And as O’Brien writes, Derek Green, SVP of A&M internationally gave writer Ray Coleman the word: ‘We knew we had a dog from a commercial sense… to everyone’s credit, the record was stopped.’
It would have taken a great deal of strength for Karen to stand up and declare this as a pivotal moment to move away from the sound the public had come to know and love. Independence would have been the rocket launch to freedom. But her release was taking another turn: through Ramone’s wife, she met Tom Burris. Their lightning-speed courtship ended in marriage in August 1980. Even as Burris admitted he had had a vasectomy, Karen was determined to marry and everything would be ‘fixed later.’
Karen’s close friends were wary and upset over the turn of events and were now desperately concerned for her well-being, especially Newton-John. Burris was looked upon as a charlatan - spending money and despising Karen’s eating disorder. And as Made In America came in late 1981, the album stalled on the charts and with the Carpenters’ audience. Karen and Richard bravely (and sometimes tensely) bounced from interviews to promotions, but the insensitivity shown by Burris continued and by November, he and Karen were over.
Karen by all accounts was privately unraveling. Cherry Boone, married and having removed herself from the harsh life of the music industry, begged Karen to do the same. But to do that would go against everything that the Carpenters had been known for. The hard work, everything, would have to stop. Karen could not, would not allow that to happen. To do that would amount to a life’s work evaporating in thin air.
However, in January 1982, Karen pulled up and moved to New York City to begin intensive treatments with psychotherapist Steven Levenkron. Levenkron had a no-nonsense approach and was able to talk to Karen with brutal honesty about her eating disorder and its effect on not only her career but her life. She made enough progress that she went back to California in April for a break. It was during this time that she recorded with Richard her final ever vocal for the song ‘Now’ not realizing where this path would lead.
She returned to New York and was able to reconcile - very painfully - with all those that were close to her. But it was Agnes, a mother who refused to give Karen the affection she craved, who became obstinate and feeling belittled by Levenkron was eventually able to hug her daughter in that emotionally charged atmosphere.
The summer of 1982 had seen some small progress from those sessions but Karen was not putting on weight. The disease was fully entrenched in her psyche. In September, Karen was 77 pounds and was admitted to Lenox Hill Hospital. She was so damaged, she was fed with an IV drip. Still in the hospital in October she signed the final divorce papers. She was freed from Burris. And she made it home for Thanksgiving, bundled in sweaters.
She continued to socialize through January 1983 and on February 3 she was at her parent's house in Downey, wanting to purchase a washer-dryer for her condo at Gemco hypermarket. She stayed overnight and the next morning after Agnes had trouble reaching her on the bedroom phone, she went up and found her daughter unresponsive in her closet.
Karen was rushed to Downey Community Hospital in full cardiac arrest and died later that morning. She was 32.
The period after her passing was quiet. But emerging in the years after have been complicated and controversial. Richard released the compilation Voices Of The Heart and has taken a sometimes unfavorable stance with the way his sister is portrayed. The family was fully entrenched in the approved 1989 TV movie The Karen Carpenter Story, but appalled by director Todd Haynes’ Superstar, viewed as a schlock horror story with clips of war, the Holocaust, and suggestions of Richard being homosexual, all told through the use of re-purposed Barbies and vintage dolls.
This alternative vision was an appreciation, according to Haynes, but nonetheless, he was vilified by the press and women especially and Richard was successful in having the film removed from the public eye.
Karen’s legacy and history jumped significantly with the onset of the alternative music of the ‘90s, including Sonic Youth’s “Tunic” in 1990 and the 1994 A&M compilation If I Were A Carpenter, with tributes from Bettie Seveert, Babes In Toyland, 4 Non Blondes and significantly, Sonic Youth’s devastating rendition of “Superstar.”
On a personal note for this review, The Carpenters’ music and legacy was my youth, 8-track, and all. To this day - and I know you’ll agree - Karen’s voice is polarizing. Sometimes I want to only hear her in my thoughts, some days I can listen to her upbeat voice from early on. And my heart breaks. Every. Single. Time.
If someone you know has an eating disorder such as anorexia nervosa, bulimia, compulsive eating, or bingeing/purging, don’t wait. Get help.
Heartbreaking (non?)review, Amy. She was a voice of my youth too.