by Michael McCarthy
Last night I saw The Carpenters Songbook performance at Nashua Center for the Arts in Nashua, New Hampshire. I’ve been a big fan of the Carpenters for years and they obviously aren’t around anymore, since Karen Carpenter sadly died decades ago, so seeing a good tribute is the closest you’re going to get. And The Carpenters Songbook isn’t a good tribute; it’s an entirely brilliant one.
The show began with “We’ve Only Just Begun,” with vocalist Christina Hélène Braa and the band performing on a stage that was made up to look like a cozy 1970s living room, complete with hanging and table lamps, sunflower arrangements, beautiful carpets, a piano and a cute little sitting area, all framed by rich red curtains. It had the warm, intimate look of a television variety special from the era, making it an ideal setting for an evening devoted to the music of the Carpenters, who starred in several very successful TV specials back in the day.
By the time “We’ve Only Just Begun” reached the first chorus, Braa already had the audience entirely under her spell. While I wouldn’t say that she tries to actually be Karen Carpenter, you did often feel like she was channeling her. The little nuances in the way Karen would sing certain lyrics were intact, and the way Braa moved around the stage and often looked up, as if to the heavens, very much reminded me of Karen. It was obvious that Braa and the band put a lot of effort into learning the Carpenters’ songs and mannerisms, and Braa’s voice was perfect throughout the night, tender and beautiful during the softer ballads and powerful and infectious during the more spirited, upbeat songs.
The band consisted of a piano player, a bass guitarist, a drummer, a backing vocalist and a gentleman who alternated between additional keyboards, pedal steel and electric guitars (for those rare Carpenters songs that actually used them). The show sounded absolutely fantastic. You could hear all of the instruments clearly, none of them drowning out the others. In fact, it sounded so wonderful you would have thought you were listening to a CD. But, no, every note and word you heard was performed entirely live without any backing tracks or tomfoolery involved. And it was nothing short of magical.
Aside from performing the Carpenters’ music, Braa and Kevin Lausche told the story of the Carpenters, talking about their hits, career high points, Beatlemania-level popularity in Japan and how only Carole King’s Tapestry outsold them in 1971, etc. They even mentioned that Karen died from an eating disorder. That briefly changed the celebratory mood of the evening and made things somber, but I ultimately think it was appropriate to acknowledge it. It’s difficult to tell Karen Carpenter’s story honestly without talking about what happened to her, and I also feel that there is still not enough attention paid to eating disorders in this country. Mentioning that Karen suffered from one put a momentary focus on a very real affliction that many people suffer from. This hit very close to home for me because I’ve gone through two long periods of being anorexic myself in my lifetime, unfortunately.
The first half of the show dug surprisingly deep into the Carpenters’ catalog. There were even a few songs that I didn’t immediately recognize, or at least couldn’t remember the titles of. The second half was more familiar territory for me, with one beloved song after another, and I found myself singing along to much of it.
That was also when the show became unexpectedly emotional for me. I listen to the Carpenters a lot when I go to bed at night. There’s something almost intimate about listening to music alone in the dark like that. There are no distractions and, for those few minutes, it’s just you and the music. It can make you feel strangely vulnerable and allow songs to affect you differently than they might during the day.
So it was almost surreal to hear songs that I’ve mostly experienced alone in the dark suddenly filling a theater full of people, with everyone singing along. I found myself getting teary-eyed several times, and strangely enough it was mostly the happier songs that did it to me. “There’s a Kind of Hush” and “Touch Me When We’re Dancing” were especially emotional for me. Maybe it was the familiarity of them, maybe it was knowing Karen’s story, or maybe it was simply hearing Braa sound so remarkably like her. Whatever the reason, they got me.
I won’t give you the full setlist because I know some people don’t like to know full setlists before they attend shows, but some of the songs performed last night included “(I’m Caught Between) Goodbye and I Love You,” “Sweet, Sweet Smile,” “Those Good Old Dreams,” “You,” “Sing,” “It’s Going to Take Some Time,” “Goodbye to Love,” “I Won’t Last a Day Without You,” “Merry Christmas Darling,” and “Ave Maria.”
Yes, indeed, they performed two Christmas songs last night even though it’s only late September, but you have to understand that “Merry Christmas Darling” was one of the Carpenters’ biggest hits and the duo actually released two very successful Christmas albums. Their Christmas music remains such a significant part of their catalog that I suspect some people would have complained if it wasn’t represented.
Of course, with a catalog as large as the Carpenters’, everyone is going to leave wishing they’d heard a favorite or two. For me, the most surprising omission was “Solitaire.” Considering how deeply the show dug into the catalog, I really thought there was no way they could do a Carpenters tribute without performing that one.
I was also hoping against hope that they might do “The Rainbow Connection,” the song most people associate with Kermit the Frog and The Muppet Movie. Karen recorded it but the Carpenters’ version wasn’t released during her lifetime, with Richard Carpenter eventually finishing the recording years later. It’s an absolutely beautiful version of the song, and considering how emotional I already was during parts of the show, I probably would have been crying buckets if they’d performed it.
Those are minor disappointments, though, during an otherwise wonderful evening. I’ve spent countless nights listening to the Carpenters in the dark, where their music can feel almost intensely private. Hearing those same songs performed so beautifully in a theater full of people—and finding myself singing along with them—was a surprisingly emotional experience.
The Carpenters Songbook didn’t simply remind me how much I love this music. For a couple of hours, it made it feel alive again. I highly recommend the show to fans of the Carpenters and ’70s music in general.
Leave a Reply