#38: Karen Carpenter
Karen Carpenter’s voice floated like fog at dawn—low, lush, and deeply haunting. In an era of flashy vocals and high-octane showmanship, hers was a gentle storm. With her brother Richard beside her, she helped The Carpenters craft soft-pop lullabies that masked a quiet ache.

Close to You and Superstar weren’t just love songs—they were windows into longing, isolation, and the unspoken. Her tragic death from an eating disorder made her story one of heartbreak, but her voice? Eternal. Karen didn’t belt. She breathed. And in that breath, generations found comfort, nostalgia, and the ache of beauty too tender to touch.
