Schoultz’s Lo-Fi Motel

I was hanging out recently at the apartment of a friend when I noticed she had one of those cute little turntable/cassette/CD player combos that look antiquated and compact and you see in catalogues and finer department stores.  It wasn’t long before I spied her stash of thrift store LPs hid inconspicuously in her overstuffed bookcase.  I peered and filed through them.  There was not much that tripped my trigger, except for an album highlighting a season of the 1967 Green Bay Packers which I damn near considered swiping from her (Hey, she hates football and the Pack in general.  No loss to her).  She insisted I pick out something to play, and I chose a Cat Stevens album because that was the closest of what she had that I thought I could relate to (it was one of his last, late 70’s/early 80’s efforts.  Not good), but I couldn’t help but notice that there were more than one Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass slice of vinyl lurking between the show tunes, crooners and opera offerings.  I resisted yanking them out.  But why?  To be quite honest, Herb Alpert mystifies me.  And not in any good way, either.  Why?  Because no matter where you run across used records (talkin’ the vinyl here, lads) you are certain to run across plenty of Herb Alpert.  Goodwill, Salvation Army, garage sales, pawn shops, it doesn’t matter.  Herb Alpert WILL be there.  With that many Herb Alpert records lying around, it is only logical to conclude that during Herb’s heyday (the early to mid-1960’s) it seems reasonable to say that Herb Alpert and the T-Brass sold as much, if not more, albums than The Beatles at one point.  If John Lennon was correct, and not merely being all British and cheeky, when he said that The Beatles were bigger than Jesus, then Herb Alpert was at one point bigger than the Fab Four and the Messiah.  At one point.  The question remains, when did Herb Alpert fall out of our collective musical conscience and into the used bin?  Did his fans die in mass over the span of decades or did they simply get bored with him?  And who bought his albums in the first place?  I’m not sure, but I’m guessing that they drank a lot of Manhattans before and after dinner, had a den in the basement complete with a tiki bar and new-fangled metal fireplaces, drove V-8’s, and mowed their lawns like religion.  Oh yes, and I’m sure they hated the damned, dirty hippies. Passionately.  But hey, who doesn’t?

One truth remains, Herb Alpert’s never took on the retro-lounge hipster cool of say, the space-age bachelor pad sounds of Esquivel.  Having Herb Alpert records on display cannot even qualify as an ironic statement seeing as they are so damn easy to run across.  Don’t get me wrong.  I’m not dissing Herb.  The guy is talented.  But the weird factor remains.  How did everyone all at once fall out of love with Herb Alpert enough to donate his discs?  If Herb Alpert was bigger than the Son of God (at one point) and all those HA&TB albums are lying around everywhere without former owners…then the rapture has already happened, citizens.

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