Herb Alpert Whipped Cream & Other Delights Re-Whipped (2006)

From newyorker.com April 2006

Last spring, during the broadcast of the Preakness Stakes, Bob Costas interviewed Jerry Moss, the owner of Giacomo, the horse that had won the Kentucky Derby. He noted that Moss, along with the trumpeter and producer Herb Alpert, had founded A. & M. Records. Near the end of their conversation, Costas held up his old copy of an A. & M. classic, the 1965 Alpert album “Whipped Cream & Other Delights,” which, as most American males Costas’s age know all too well, featured on its cover a photograph of a young woman clad, rather meagerly, in what appeared to be whipped cream. Costas asked Moss the name of the model. Dolores, he said.

“All hail Dolores!” Costas exclaimed.

Alpert, who happened to be watching on TV, was moved. He decided to send Costas a poster of Dolores, mit Schlag, upon which he wrote, “Dear Bob, can’t stop thinking about you. Love, Dolores.”

It was a variation on a sentiment that decades ago fogged the minds of many young men, as they gazed at the album cover and attempted to ascribe personalized come-hitherhood to the woman staring back. In the picture, she sits holding the stem of a rose in her left hand, above which the inner portion of a bare breast protrudes from the foam. She is licking cream from the index finger of her right hand, and a dollop of the stuff rests atop her forehead, like a tiara. (This is the only real whipped cream in the shot. The rest is shaving cream.) The image still seems a little raunchy, in a home-movie kind of way, but in the virtually pornless atmosphere of the suburban mid-sixties it was—and we’re relying on the testimony of our elders here—the pinnacle of allure. The Whipped Cream Girl, as she came to be known, helped make Alpert and his Tijuana Brass even more famous than his loungy arrangements, smooth trumpet work, and suave song production destined them to be. The album shot to No. 1 and stayed on the charts for more than three years. Alpert would say, when performing live, “Sorry, but I can’t play the cover for you.”

“When that record broke, Tijuana Brass was catapulted onto another planet,” Alpert said the other day. Initially, he had reservations about the cover. “In 1965, to see an image like that I thought was maybe pushing it a little too far,” he said. “I thought the censors would be down on it. But in 2006 it looks pretty darn tame.”

Last month, a new version of the album was released: “Whipped Cream & Other Delights Re-Whipped.” Various artists made remixes of the original songs, over which Alpert laid some new trumpet solos. It’s slick stuff. But, with all due respect to Alpert, who is a serious cat with serious cred and, as of a few weeks ago, a spot in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, the most momentous revision may well be the one made to the cover art. There’s a new Dolores, whose name is Bree Condon. If you adjust for palette size (the CD jewel box having, sadly, a fraction the area of a record sleeve), the Re-Whipped Cream Girl shows much more skin than her predecessor did. Bree is lying on her belly, in a strapless whipped-cream bikini, with not a splotch of cream (or a retouched pixel) out of place. Dolores, by contrast, looked as though she had emerged from a cream-pie fight—stray flecks everywhere. Even the whipped cream on Bree’s index finger has been heavily styled; it resembles an impaled Martini olive. She reveals more, yet suggests less.

Alpert, who had to be talked into doing the remix, is fond of the new cover. “The girl is beautiful,” he said. “I think it’s a little more accessible. There’s so much product in the stores these days that it doesn’t hurt if your eye goes to something that has a little eye appeal.”

Eye appeal, however, is near the top of Alpert’s list of deleterious trends in popular music. “A lot of it is so corny,” he said. “It looks like professional wrestling to me. These people dress up in their getups.” He blames television: “People started listening with their eyes.”

Another thing that bothers him is the tendency toward profligacy; he laments the scarcity of restraint and feeling, in jazz playing, at least, if not in edible-outfit design. (Just as there can be too much flesh, there can be too many notes.) “When Bill Clinton was inaugurated,” Alpert said, “they had ten saxophone players at the party. It was mostly the young guns, but Gerry Mulligan was in there, too. Afterward, he called me and said, ‘Man, you know, these young guys, they know all the modes, they know all the chords, they can play high and low and fast, and they can do amazing things, but the one thing they don’t know how to do is leave the bone alone.’ ”

Herb Alpert Is… (2020)

From reelviews.net

It’s probably fair to say than an individual’s appreciation of John Scheinfeld’s Herb Alpert Is… is most likely tied to one’s appreciation of Alpert’s music. A pop chart titan in the late 1960s and major influence in the music world during the ’60s, ‘70s, and ‘80s, Alpert is best-known for his trumpet playing and a string of hits so recognizable that even kids today may “know” them (if only for their incorporation in modern songs like the sampling of “Rise” in The Notorious B.I.G.’s 1997 smash, “Hypnotize”). Herb Alpert Is… isn’t a hard-hitting documentary; it’s a love letter to the 85-year old icon (who, being alive both at the time of the film’s making and as I write this, was able to participate). It offers a high-level overview of his career, features interviews with those whose output has been influenced by Alpert (including Richard Carpenter, Questlove, and Sting), and (most importantly) provides nearly wall-to-wall music featuring everything from quick excerpts to entire songs. All of Alpert’s hits are present and accounted for and there are also a few lesser-known tracks.

Unlike many musicians who came to prominence during the 1960s, Alpert didn’t travel a dark road that forced him to overcome adversity. His journey to the top of the charts didn’t lead him through a maze of drugs. He didn’t spend time in rehab. He didn’t contract AIDS or enjoy the debauched “bad boy” lifestyle of many of his contemporaries. He went through a period of depression in the early ‘70s when he discovered that fame was a shallow mistress but his relationship with Lani Hall (they married in 1973) provided the anchor he needed and allowed him to once again reach the top of the charts with the 1979 song “Rise.”

I learned a few things about Alpert’s life. I didn’t know, for example, that he is as avid a sculptor as a musician. I was unaware of the degree to which he has devoted his later years to philanthropic causes. Much of the film’s narrative, however, doesn’t go deeper than a Wikipedia entry. There are fewer personal anecdotes than I might have liked and the movie sidesteps or ignores tangential elements that arguably deserve at least a mention. (These include Alpert’s involvement in Casino Royale, how he felt about General Hospital’s involvement in gaining popularity for “Rise,” and what he thought of “Hypnotize.”)

The movie is most worthwhile for its contemporaneous interview with Alpert, which is far-reaching and includes not only reflections about his music but various memories about his time at the top of A&M (Alpert & Moss) Records which, during the late ‘60s through the ‘80s, was a major force in the music industry. Herb Alpert Is… also offers a treasure trove of Alpert music. The opportunity to hear well over an hour of great music (the end credits list about five-dozen songs!) trumps all other concerns, including limitations and omissions. This movie will likely go down as the definitive documentary about Alpert and, as such, it’s not a bad way to be remembered.

Herb Alpert & The Tijuana Brass Whipped Cream & Other Delights Re-Whipped (2006)

From jambands.com

Forty years ago, a trumpeter’s pop instrumental album rocked the nation. It’s almost impossible to fathom in today’s world, but the original Whipped Cream & Other Delights from Herb Alpert’s Tijuana Brass was a massive phenomenon, attracting hippies and squares, kiddies and grannies, Jews and gentiles, Latinos and gringos, and in the words of the album’s liner notes, “celebrities and the people who make them celebrities.” People were drawn to Alpert’s clever blend of bossa nova, jazz, salsa, and Dixieland rhythms, which he used as the perfect backdrop for his peppy trumpet solos. It also didn’t hurt that a marketing genius turned the world on its head by decorating the album cover with an image of a hot nude model strategically covered in nothing but whipped cream.

Forty years later, instrumental albums have come back to prominence, thanks to the work of skillful DJs and pioneers of the electronica movement. Thus, it only makes sense that the rising stars of modern instrumental music ply their craft in a remix of Alpert’s 1966 landmark achievement. And with that notion, Whipped Cream & Other Delights Re-Whipped was born.

Remix producer Anthony Marinelli takes the lead and has his fingers in most of this bowl of Cool-Whip. Whether he’s collaborating with Ozomatli or slicing and dicing on his own, Marinelli typically retains a reverence for Alpert’s original classic. Remarkably, Re-Whipped’s reinvention remains true to Alpert’s vision while taking on a new and vibrant form. Of course, having Herb Alpert around to record new and buoyant solos surely didn’t hurt.

At first glance, Marinelli’s decision to re-jigger the track order is curious, but all questions are answered upon hearing the sheer brilliance of the opening title cut. With the aid of Ozomatli, Marinelli’s re-working of “Whipped Cream” transforms the perky bachelorette theme from The Dating Game into a badass brooding anthem. Using groovy piano and bass licks, he tosses in both acoustic guitar from south of the border and Alpert’s suddenly cool new solo to create an immensely seductive blend. The combination is so successful it nearly dwarves the entire album. With the wave of his hand, Marinelli has birthed an opening track that begs the listener to hit repeat while strutting down the street.

Thankfully, the rest of Marinelli’s numerous contributions to the album have their merits, as well. His space-age transfusion of the gentle “Ladyfingers” becomes an erotic gem, thanks to some clever drum programming and a silky smooth moaning vocal from Kina Cosper. The lead producer is also able to conjure up some pulsating Stevie Wonder-era funk on “Lollipops and Roses” while still preserving the obvious pop leanings of the original. Truthfully, the only time Marinelli fails is when he and Ozomatli take a stab at Leiber and Stoller’s classic “Love Potion #9.” Although Alpert’s inceptive rendition served as a brassy burlesque number, Marinelli’s update places the trumpeter over an intense funk backbeat. Ozomatli adds colorful timbales and stabbing horn parts, and everything is on the right trackuntil Asdru Sierra begins delivering vacuous vocals. In the only lyrics on the entire album, Sierra has no clue what he’s actually singing. He’s more pre-occupied with sounding like Prince, and his wussy R&B-light vocal effectively neuters what was one of Alpert’s most ballsy tracks.

While Marinelli is directly responsible for half of Re-Whipped, he has enlisted some heavy hitters to handle the remainder of the load. By dexterously intersplicing mellow riffs reminiscent of a tropical breeze, John King, of the Dust Brothers fame, adds sly subtext to the previously shallow but nonetheless iconic “A Taste of Honey.” Thievery Corporation are ideal for a remix project like Re-Whipped, and they give a wonderfully atmospheric and dark slant to “Lemon Tree.” Medeski, Martin, and Wood put a spin on “El Garbanzo” that is uniquely their own. The eclectic trio creates a frenetic samba on acid, eventually veering into a cool jazz vibe that is perfect for Alpert’s solo. Speaking of samba, Mocean Worker’s remixing expertise is on display in a seamless take on the groovalicious “Bittersweet Samba” that remarkably sounds as if it was recorded live.

We’ve seen remix projects come and go, but Re-Whipped is a little different. Never before has such a project demonstrated such reverence for its source. It’s not uncommon in these type of remixes to strain one’s ears in a desperate search to find any traces of the original track, but the cuts on Re-Whipped are easily identifiable, which must attributed to the guidance of Marinelli and his collaboration with Alpert. Rather than tearing down the wall and rebuilding it from scratch, Marinelli and crew have decided to merely redecorate it in vivid colors and modern designs. Therefore, Re-Whipped becomes less of a remix album and more of an update. Whipped Cream & Other Delights may be forty years old, but Marinelli and Alpert are proving that with a new coat of paint (or whipped cream) the old beauty can still float your boat.

Herb Alpert And The Tijuana Brass: Whipped Cream & Other Delights Rewhipped (2006)

From popmatters.com

The original Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass’s Whipped Cream & Other Delights was the fourth largest selling album of the ’60s, behind only discs by Elvis Presley, the Beatles, and Frank Sinatra. The record provided the soundtrack to countless suburban backyard barbecues, pool parties, and graduation festivities. However, the very success of the album caused a backlash against it. Even before the decade was over the music was regarded as cheesy commercial fodder, equated with the vapidity of the middle-class, white bread audience that purchased it. No doubt part of this was due to the title song’s use as the theme for television’s The Dating Game” one of the first and lamest reality-style shows to hit the airwaves. That’s unfortunate, because Alpert and company possessed a horny genius for performing Latin jazz inflected pop.

A word about the Hispanic accents of the music needs to be said. Up until the first half of the ’60s, musicians often colored their melodies with foreign flourishes to provide a touch of exotica. This could be done in a number of ways, through the use of odd instruments (did someone mention the zither and the theme to Zorba the Greek?), language (think of “Sukiyaki”, a hit single sung entirely in Japanese that had nothing to do with the food dish from which the song got its title), or, like Alpert and his band, adding a spicy accompaniment to non-ethnic tunes. This was not considered offensive or condescending. Indeed, the opposite was true. Listeners found this hip and progressive.

It’s been more than 40 years since the original Whipped Cream was released. Alpert has given the tapes to a number of different producers to remix and make ready for contemporary audiences. He’s also provided new solos on a number of the tracks to give them an added kick. The results vary, but this project succeeds overall. The various cuts come off as catchy, electronica-style lounge music. Just like it did four decades ago, this music provides excellent accompaniment for shaking up cocktails and chilling out to.

The best tracks on Whipped Cream & Other Delights Rewhipped are still the same ones that were the most excellent songs on the original album. Generally, the remixers don’t radically cut up the prize material as much as reframe the cuts and add beats and squiggles to them. This is true of Anthony Marinelli’s production of the title track (which also includes the band Ozomatli and Alpert contributing some new riffs), and John King’s remake of the first record’s biggest hit, “A Taste of Honey”. Both versions feature the same engaging instrumental licks that made the originals so damn cool and keep the horny hooks blaring, but in altered contexts.

Other highlights include Medeski, Martin, and Wood’s bluesy subversion of “El Garbanzo”, the Thievery Corporation’s gentle dub mix of “Lemon Tree”, Mocean Worker’s breezy “Bittersweet Samba”, and Marinelli’s funky take on “Lollipops and Roses”. Marinelli remixed six of the dozen songs and supervises the disc’s production. This gives the album a seamlessness that otherwise might be missing when songs are mixed by different deejays.

The same label (Shout!) responsible for this effort also has re-released the original Whipped Cream & Other Delights with two additional bonus cuts. The albums seem to be geared to two separate audiences. The 1965 disc appeals to nostalgia buffs who remember the album from way back when and to fans of that era’s music. This new record would be more of interest to contemporary music enthusiasts. Both albums have their merits, though, and fans of Alpert would benefit by owning both.

Incidentally, the cover art of the older album has become a part of urban folklore. The cover depicted a nubile young woman deliciously covered with whipped cream. The rumor was that if one were very careful, a person could peel off the thin outer layer of the print and be rewarded with a naked picture of the lovely lass. This wasn’t true, of course, but one would be hard pressed to find an album from back in the day that didn’t show signs of someone trying to strip the cardboard of its veneer. The remix CD features a photo of a similar-looking lady (model Bree Condon) in a whipped cream bikini as homage. It ain’t the same, but the fault lies not with Condon. Back in 1965, an image of a naked woman was hard to come by. Now it just takes the flick of a finger on a computer keyboard. Times have changed. So has the music. The fact that Alpert’s holds up so well proves how talented he was and is.