A really strong woman accepts the war she went through and is ennobled by her scars.
As a singer I tried on all these hats, these voices, these clothes, and eventually out came me.
Being in this business for as long as I've been in it, it's sort of like living in a town or a city before the war and then after the war and then during the reconstruction and then during the time that it sprawls out to the malls.
Both my uncles were jazz critics.
But when we listened to the radio, it was Bill Haley and the Comets or the Everly Brothers.
Do you know how many concerts I've done in my whole life, in more than 35 years of performing? Sixty-four.
I always sang standards because the songs I wrote for myself weren't as easy to sing.
I always think it's interesting to dig a little bit deeper every time you go to someplace that seems like a revelation or a strong connection to an emotional truth.
I had a mastectomy in 1998, and then chemo.
I had this terrible stammer, so I couldn't really speak properly until I was 16 or 17.
I just want to show off my scar proudly and not be afraid of it.
I remember being onstage once when I didn't have fear: I got so scared I didn't have fear that it brought on an anxiety attack.
I think that I've got some pretty bad reviews on albums or songs that later proved themselves.
I think that most people really know if it's a really great album.
I took it to heart that in order to be a good person, you never said anything mean about anybody.
I try to get to those peculiar and particular things that you never think of to say.
I used the physical scar of my breast cancer operation, the scar that I have across my chest as a metaphor for all kinds of scars.
I'm still more comfortable with standards than with my own songs.
I've gone through the village of my songwriting and my artistry, and I've gone through lots of different phases, including one where it has been very quiet and abandoned me for a few years.
In other words, I built on what I had.
It didn't matter as much because I'm a singer, not an actress, but my face is more acceptable in a way now than when I first came on the scene, because I'm part black.
My father was a classical pianist, and my mother was a singer of just about everything.
My look was even more solidified when I started singing in Greenwich Village with my sister Lucy. We wore matching dresses as the Simon Sisters.
My scar is beautiful. It looks like an arrow.
No, because I was always nervous about being onstage.
No, because I've never really changed my style that much.
One of the things that has always motivated me to write is the desire to get it out and look at it in an objective way, so that it doesn't cause me any serious pain by staying inside.
So I suppose this slightly mature fashion sense happened because of what I had.
So many artists who came out during that time, including myself, were able to get on radio. New forms of singer-songwriters developed out of that.
Sometimes my boyfriend would write the lyrics and I would write the melody, and other times I would start from scratch. Or sometimes I would take a local poem and put that to music.
Sometimes, but the year I lived in France I started to write songs.
The models for me were more the folk-rock singers of the '60s and '70s.
Then I went through a big Peggy Lee stage, then I became Annie Ross, then Judy Collins.
There was a French singer, Francoise Hardy - I used to look at her pictures and try to dress like her.
We are in this period now where we all are trying to be in shape physically and deny ourselves any pleasure.
We need role models who are going to break the mold.
We went to see all the shows. American musical theater and jazz were very big.
Well, I make every song I sing personal. I've never chosen a song that wasn't.
Well, I tried to get a record deal in 1966 or '67, and everyone thought I was too eclectic.
You know when you take the paint off an old canvas and you discover that something's been painted underneath it? That's what I feel like - that part of the old is coming through the new.
You know, people want to honor me, and on the one hand I just don't want to be a poster child; but on the other, I want to do something classy and great - something where the residuals will go to the cause.
You know, when I was diagnosed with breast cancer in 1997 I realized I had spent too long arranging my attitude.
You usually can't tell what's inspiring until you look back on it.
You're lucky you had that when you were 20. I sure didn't. I was overweight, and I had acne.
Carly held an auction for charity on Marthas Vineyard, in which she offered to reveal her secret of who she wrote her hit song 'Your'e So Vain' about to the highest bidder. The winning bid fetched $500,000.00 for charity, and was made by the president of NBC Sports, Dick Ebersol. Dick signed a confidentiality agreement, but was allowed to give one hint. Dick revealed that the man's name contains the letter 'E', to which Carly added an additional hint, that the name also contains an 'A'.
Carly was diagnosed with breast Cancer in October of 1997, she underwent chemotherapy and surgery as treatments.
Carly met her second husband, Jim Hart on a train, they were married in 1987. Their marriage was predicted by a psychic.
Carly released the album that she is most proud of in the summer of 1981, Torch. This was as the same time that her marriage to James Taylor came to an end.
Carly's album Spy was a commercial flop, and she switched to Warner Brothers to record her next album. After releasing Come Upstairs, her single 'Jesse' went to #1 on the charts.
Carly's second child, Ben was a sickly infant, constantly fighting off fevers. When he turned three years old, he was diagnosed with a dysplastic kidney, meaning his body was toxic much of the time. He had to have his kidney removed as a result.
Carly used to dream of singing a song for a movie as a child, and in 1976 it came to fruition. Marvin Hamlisch called and asked her to sing on the new James Bond film The Spy Who Loved Me.
Carly teamed up with Michael McDonald (of the Doobie Brothers) to record the hit single 'It Keeps You Runnin'.
Carly won a Grammy Award in 1972 for 'Best New Artist'.
Carly married James Taylor on November 3, 1972. The couple welcomed their first child, a daughter they named Sally in 1974, the same year that she released her hit single 'Haven't Got Time For The Pain'.
Carly met Jerry Brandt in 1969, he offered to be her manager, and she accepted. She made him a demo tape that he took to Clive Davis at Columbia Records, who wanted nothing to do with it. He then presented the demo to Jac Holzman at Elektra, he signed her in 1970.
Carly landed a job as the lead singer for the rock band 'Elephant's Memory' in 1968. No one got along, and she loathed playing the shows, the clubs were always filled with a thick layer of cigarette and marijuana smoke. She kept losing her voice and the sound systems were terrible, so she left the band after one summer. They went on to become John & Yoko's band.
Carly decided to attend the Julliard School of Music in 1970 to learn to notate music, a talent that she no longer knows how to use.
Carly's sister Lucy soon grew tired of her mental state, as she started to develop stage fright, and anxiety attacks. She left the duo, married a psychiatrist, and had her first daughter, Julie. Carly wrote the song 'Julie Through The Glass' for her niece.
Carly's late nights at the clubs took their toll on her studies and homework at the private school she was attending, so she dropped out to pursue her dreams. She moved to the South of France with her boyfriend.
Carly and Lucy were noticed and signed to their first recording deal with Kapp Records in 1964, with Harold Leventhol and Charlie Close as their managers.
Carly was kicked out of the family choir at age twelve for being obnoxious and willfully disobedient.
You can share a link to this page with your friend!