The Carpenters - Made in America
#237
By Chris Roberts
June 16 1981
The Carpenters
Made In America
Genre: Yesterday, Once More
Allen’s Rating: 2.5
Chris’ Rating: 2.8
Highlight:
Touch Me, When We’re Dancing
I’m pretty certain we had a Sesame Street cassette in the Roberts’ family VW. I recall early cross-country camping trips set to the tune of “Rubber Ducky” and “It’s Not Easy Being Green.” I also remember “Sing,” by The Carpenters, with its kid chorus, and basically screaming the whole la-la-lalala part. The Carpenters’ other hits were mostly absorbed through the canines and incisors during fluoride treatments. For me, more a Donny & Marie fan, The Carpenters only existed as background music. That was until 1981, when I decided the Carpenters were the worst. My eleven-year old musical taste was based on what was popular or cool at Sepulveda Junior High: The Stray Cats, The Go-Go’s, Black Sabbath and Judas Priest. The Carpenters were what 7th graders HATED. Their music was for babies. For children. Like Sesame Street. Like Donny & Marie.
Maturity, nostalgia, Karen Carpenter’s death, and Kim Gordon’s endorsement changed my mind about the Carpenters. In the 90s, I rediscovered the greatest hits and the Carpenter’s classic Christmas Portrait album. It was hard to deny The Carpenters talent. Karen’s overdubbed voice was richly vulnerable. The C’s sound was very cheesy, but never Velveeta. On songs like “Superstar,” “Goodbye To Love,” and “Rainy Days and Mondays” they’re comparable to the Beach Boys, with beautiful vocal arrangements and lush orchestration.
I’d never heard Made In America prior to this LP review, but I requested the album with some open-minded optimism and curiosity. Made In America was the last Carpenters album released before KC died, and the duo had been working on it since 1978. The long delays were partly due to tragic, tabloid-worthy factors, but both Richard and Karen expressed satisfaction with the final results, calling MIA their favorite album. Which made me hopeful. I’d never found the Carpenters long players could hold up to their singles. I’d never been interested in anything Richard sings. Even The Carpenters’ famous The Carpenters LP was all about “Rainy Days and Mondays” and “Superstar.” Some of that big brown envelope felt like junk mail.
Made In America did contain some qualities I enjoyed in the Carpenter’s music. KC’s vocals were great as ever. RC’s sweeping, full sound was perfectly consistent with the music from most of their career: inspired by Les Paul and Perry Como; belt-sanded and polished to remove any edges or blemishes (or anything resembling rock and/or roll, because of like, Satan).
But after a few listens, I was conflicted. I might’ve admired the talent, but I couldn’t escape the context of the era. I didn’t hate it, but MIA felt as useless in 1981 as a corded home phone in 2020. Who was this for? The first song, “Those Good Old Dreams,” with the same country-tinged bounce as “Top of The World,” suggested a new day had arrived, the answer to our prayers. No more dark days, you could bring out your old dress again. I tied this spirit to the “Morning In America” vibe after Ronald Reagan’s election. Also, the album cover featured a frightening airbrush painting of Karen and Richard, in side-view, gleaming like mannequins inside the Stepford, Connecticut JC Pennys. It looked like art from a state-run propaganda poster. Finally, the album was literally called “Made in America.” So if the new patriotism had meaning for you in 1981, this album might’ve been your jam. For everyone else, skip “Those Good Old Dreams.”
I would also skip the second song, “Strength of A Woman.” The song was on-brand, given that KC reportedly didn’t support women’s lib—it’s an even cringier version of “Stand By Your Man.” But it’s also bittersweet, as KC’s rocky marriage lasted only 14 months (less than half the time it took to record and release Made In America). It’s not worth digging back up.
The remaining seven songs mostly fell in line with the material on other Carpenters albums, for better or worse. The best song, “Touch Me, When We’re Dancing,” added a little bit of sensuality that suggested a PG rating could’ve been in the Carpenters future. It was a minor hit, and a worthy inclusion on an anthology*. “(Want You) Back In My Life Again” added 80s synths, like an experiment. It was fine, but felt out of place. “Somebody’s Been Lyin’” and “I Believe In You,” delivered on KC’s melancholy and sounded like deep cuts on 1971’s Close To You. And no Carpenters album was complete without an awkward cover choice (“Ticket To Ride,” “Mr. Postman”) so we got a bouncy version of “Beechwood 4-5789” that nobody asked for, and further reinforced that by 1981, the Carpenters really existed for a different generation.
The sum of MIA’s parts was probably average for The Carpenters career, but by 1981, tastes had changed. The C’s didn’t sound like they were on the edge of a comeback, as the decent material worked mostly as nostalgia. I don’t fault my 11-year old self for dismissing them.
*It’s included on Carpenters Gold, btw.
https://open.spotify.com/album/1FqAKMZw9yexfKjrnsLGAF?si=RcO3Nkg-STuCV0PraHzYfw
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