To say the Carpenters use every conceivable device, from pots and pans to a motorcycle, as part of their impressive new show, in for a week at the London Palladium, is only slight exaggeration.
Just when the large stage seems crammed to overflowing—with Karen Carpenter’s four drum kits and nine visible mics, brother Richard, five band members, assorted keyboards, electric flutes, clarinets, guitars and tape recorders—the backdrop vanishes to reveal a 42-piece orchestra.
Messy as it sounds, this is slick staging by Broadway producer Joe Layton, and the production as a whole is value-for-money entertainment.
The Carpenters, six years on, are in fine form.
From a slightly raised platform, fringed with red streamers like a giant Christmas cake, they provide their own potted discography beneath an assortment of some 60 spotlights.
Razzle-dazzle effect of the act is enhanced when they leave the stage to enlist audience support for a mad arrangement of “Close to You.”
A wheel-on percussion table, which boasts pots and pans, klaxon horns, tin whistles, etc., provides a fun number and Karen Carpenter displays boundless energy and flair with her lengthy drum solo.
Endorsing their pre-publicized changed-from-clean image, they launch into a college skit with bobby socks, false busts, a rude song about Sandra Dee and a noisy climax by Richard driving a motorcycle on stage covering the first 10 rows with fumes.
In a more serious vein, Richard gives a virtuoso piano rendering of the “Warsaw Concerto” backed by the Dick Palombi Orchestra and reflected in a huge suspended mirror.
The femme Carpenter takes her turn with a “studio session” singing a medley of the duo’s disk hits such as “Top of the World” and “For All We Know” etc. She seems to be on stage during the entire show yet somehow manages five costume changes.
The boys in the band have their own highlight with “[Goodbye] to Love” and an exceptional guitar duet by Tony Peluso and Bob Messenger.
Audience loved it all. Seventy-five minutes of entertainment bristling with vitality. […]