Recently, Lisa and I were sitting in the waiting room of our chosen auto mechanic shop and we soon noticed the office wasn’t playing your run-of-the-mill, ubiquitous easy listening station.
You know the kind…they play soft rock and pop songs. Other versions of them play classic mellow oldies. “Fourteen in a row, commercial free!” This station wasn’t one of those. It played a unique variety; a little bit of everything.
It was a little bit country; a little bit rock and roll.
Just as the two of us were commenting on the unique background music enveloping the building’s lobby, I got a real blast from the past.
I hadn’t thought of Herb Alpert in years. You might remember him from his late 70s trumpet-based instrumental called “Rise” or his one vocal hit, “This Guy’s in Love With You.”
On the morning in question, the radio station wasn’t playing either of those tunes. They went straight back to my childhood for the up-tempo, latin-flavored hit “A Taste of Honey.” You might recognize it even if you couldn’t name it. It was a popular tune even before it was covered by Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass.
“A Taste of Honey” was the first track on their 1965 LP “Whipped Cream and Other Delights.”
My folks had a cache of records that were frequently played as the soundtrack of my childhood, especially during our days in Memphis. I never gave much consideration to the meaning of the somewhat provocative album cover – the one with the young lady swathed in whipped cream (what 6-year-old would?) – but I sure remember hopping and bopping around our mediterranean-themed living room, dancing to the upbeat Tiajauna tune.
As an aside, I read the whipped cream lady is now in her late 70s (which makes sense if you do the math). My folks, as a young married couple, were surely more attracted to purchase the LP because of the music rather than the late 60s album cover!
This was the same era when I enjoyed playing in the ‘spaceship’ end table (that was a part of the furnishings of our living room). That was the room that housed the stereo (and the albums) and so if my folks put on one of their records – and it happened to be Herb - I’d enjoy the fun.
Some of my folks other selections from the era – Carpenters, Anne Murray or even some of my mom’s Elvis records – were frequently played in our home but weren’t nearly as much fun for a little shaver. Too mellow. But these high-energy brassy selections were a different story.
That era was especially fun for me. Shielded from the outside world of war, assassinations, civil rights, and unrest on our college campuses, the late 60s were all about play and discovery for me. If I didn’t have my Tonka trucks in the sandbox out back digging and building, I took my toys up the stairs to my attic playroom and imagined the ceiling joists and pink insulation represented the moon.
Thanks to my dad’s sage guidance, I never went for a moon walk!
My dancing to Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass might’ve, on occasion, resembled THE moon walk, however, as I slid around on the hardwood parquet.
My childhood was fun and I love remembering it. And that day, in the waiting room, thanks to the eclectic playlist of a yet-to-be-identified regional radio station, I had a nice trip back in time.
JG
Originally posted 1/21/2015
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