At the surface, it seems the most fitting description of this album (and the Carpenters’ career at large) is “Pleasant. Not much else.” The siblings’ tight harmonies and lush arrangements create an atmosphere that is easy on the ears, without any of that weird experimentation that the Beatles and Beach Boys and Byrds and just about every other hope for good pop music in the 60s dabbled in. But the closer, Another Song, is a riotous jazz improvisation, with no vocals at all. Clearly, there must be more deeper down in the album.