Herb Alpert walks up a long driveway at his rambling Malibu estate, wincing slightly after having woken up around 3 a.m. with a cramp in his left calf.
“It’s still kind of seizing,” the trumpeter says as he leads me past a garden lush with moist-looking tropical plants.
This, Alpert accepts, is the reality of life at 91. Yet the only reason he’s out here racking up steps by the hundreds on a recent morning is because he was tooling around in his sculpture studio before I arrived. And the only reason the sculpture studio is so far from his music studio — there’s also a studio devoted to his painting — is because of his huge success over the last 60 or so years.
“So I can’t really complain,” he says.
A Los Angeles native who got his start writing songs like Sam Cooke’s “Wonderful World,” Alpert has lived here in Malibu since 1972, a decade after he released “The Lonely Bull,” his debut album with the Tijuana Brass. The LP’s title track, inspired by a bullfight Alpert caught in Mexico, went to No. 6 on Billboard’s Hot 100; more than a dozen finger-snapping Top 40 hits followed, including “A Taste of Honey,” “Spanish Flea” (also heard as a theme song on TV’s “The Dating Game”) and “This Guy’s in Love With You,” which took a rare Alpert vocal turn all the way to No. 1.
What’s more, these inescapable tunes came out on Alpert’s own label, A&M Records, which he “formed on a handshake,” as he puts it, in 1962 with his business partner Jerry Moss. The label quickly became one of the biggest independent record companies in music, with acts such as Carole King, the Carpenters, the Police, Peter Frampton and Janet Jackson, as well as a beloved recording studio complex on La Brea Avenue. (Moss, who with Alpert sold A&M in 1989 for a reported $500 million, died in 2023.)
After years working on his own and with his wife, the singer Lani Hall, Alpert revived the Tijuana Brass name in 2024 and launched a tour that will stop Sunday night at the Hollywood Bowl. We sat down in his gear-stuffed music studio to talk about it and much more.
I’m sure you heard that John Mayer and McG bought the former A&M Studios last year. I wondered what your emotional investment is in the place at this point. I don’t have an emotional investment. Once I left the lot, I was out of there — I didn’t look back. I wanted to paint, I wanted to sculpt, I wanted to make music. I wasn’t thinking about the business.
What’s an A&M success story you took particular pride in? Cat Stevens. I heard this kid — he was a kid at the time — at the Troubadour, just him and a guitar, and I got goosebumps. It was so beautiful and so honest.
What was Karen Carpenter like? She was a doll. She didn’t know how great she was — didn’t think she was a great singer. One hell of a drummer too. Go onto YouTube and search Karen Carpenter’s solo on drums — it’ll knock your socks off. But she was innocent. She was lucky to have [her brother] Richard because Richard knew what to do with her in a very gentle way.
Even at the Carpenters’ smoothest, I hear deep sadness in Karen’s singing. I think that’s a standard ingredient to great artists. Listen closely to Miles Davis and you’ll hear the same thing.
Karen struggled with her mental health, which her fame didn’t help. Did you ever feel responsible for what she went through? I’ve gone over that question so many times in my head: If I hadn’t picked them out and signed them, would the same result have happened?
Where have you landed? I don’t have an answer.
In a recent documentary about you, you’re talking about “Wonderful World” and you say that nobody knows what a hit record sounds like. That’s your feeling now based on years of experience. But did you think you knew when you were young? I didn’t know then either. “Wonderful World” was a demo that Keen Records put on a shelf. When Sam started selling records on RCA Victor, they pulled it out as a lark, and it ended up one of the biggest-selling singles Sam ever had. I’ve told this story before, but at A&M a guy played a record for me — I said, “Man, this record stinks.” Well, I was turning down “Louie Louie.”
Why didn’t you understand “Louie Louie”? It was out of tune. It was too long. I didn’t know what the hell they were saying.
That’s why it’s great. Probably so. But did they have another hit record? Sam used to say, “Close your eyes when you listen to a new artist — don’t get swayed by whether they’re beautiful or they’re handsome or they can dance their ass off.”
OK, but you were like a heartthrob in the ’60s. What am I now — chopped liver?
I don’t think you can say your success had nothing to do with your looks. I don’t think it did. You know that sadness you were talking about? It’s in my horn.
I agree. But it didn’t hurt that you looked great. It didn’t hurt once I had a hit record. It wouldn’t have given me a hit record.
Let’s talk about your song “Rise.” Got lucky with that.
In what way? My nephew Randy, who’s one of my managers, he wanted me to take some of the Tijuana Brass records and do a little disco number with them. So we go into the studio with a bunch of great musicians, start playing “Taste of Honey” at 120 beats per minute. I got nauseous — I said, “Man, I ain’t doing this.”
Nauseous? The record was big, and I didn’t want to tamper with it. But Randy had written this song called “Rise” with a friend of his. He wanted me to play that at 120 beats per minute too. I said, “Lookit, man — let’s slow this thing down and let people dance closer together.” We recorded it live in the studio. Julius Wechter was playing marimba — dear friend of mine. I said, “What do you think of this thing? Pretty cool, isn’t it?” He turns around and says, “I hate it. That beat — the four-on-the-floor is killing me.” I expected a different answer from him. But it didn’t matter.
What’d you make of the Notorious B.I.G.’s sampling “Rise” for his “Hypnotize”? How could you not like that record? These guys that take your bass line and make a record by pressing a button — I think that’s cheating a bit. But there’s 70 zillion streams on that song. Can’t deny it.
“Rise” was also sampled by the rapper Nas for his song “Power, Paper & P—.” I don’t know how to comment on that one.
A lot of musicians from your generation have been selling their catalogs lately. Have you considered it? There’s no reason to — I don’t need the money.
I wrote about Frankie Valli a few years ago, and he and Bob Gaudio seemed eager to have this company Primary Wave out there finding ways to — Monetize the catalog. I get it. But they don’t have to do that with us. I don’t know if you know what’s happening, but I’m in the heyday of my career right now.
Right now? It wasn’t my idea to get the Tijuana Brass back together again. My nephew, he’s a social media guy, and he went around the world to see what songs of mine were selling the most. Turned out there were about 18 songs. I started listening to the 18, and at the end, I felt happy, I felt joyous, I felt a smile was on my face. I thought, Man, let’s try this — this might be interesting. We started doing it, and we’ve been sold out 50 concerts in a row.
It strikes me that without the Tijuana Brass, you weren’t playing the Hollywood Bowl. Hell no, I wasn’t.
What’s that say to you? That the music is touching people. The times we’re living in, there’s a lot of doubt with what’s going on, and I think people are getting some positive energy from it.
You’re a lifelong Angeleno. Lots of well-to-do folks say that L.A. has gone to hell in a handbasket. What’s your take? I think it’s pretty much the same all over the country.
Which is? Gone to hell in a handbasket. People are confused about where they’re going, whether they’re gonna be able to have enough food on the table, whether they can afford gasoline. I’m not saying it’s all bad — it’s just hard to make sense of a lot of it for a lot of people, including the guy you’re talking to.
Your music has pulled from any number of cultures. Do you think it speaks of your Jewish identity? Most definitely. My father was born in a shtetl outside Kyiv — didn’t speak Russian, spoke Yiddish. He brought his mandolin with him when he was 16 years old on a boat by himself and landed at Ellis Island. He used to play songs for me on the mandolin. When his nostrils flared, I knew he was into it. That kind of got me.
Jewish meets Mexican feels very L.A. to me. I think we’re all a product of our surroundings. In high school I used to go see Gerry Mulligan and Chet Baker, and I was touched by them. Of course, they were loaded.
What kind of guy was Chet Baker? A troubled guy who was a brilliant musician. I gave him one of my horns, and he pawned it the next day. He was sweet but he didn’t have a hold on his emotions.
Not great for living, obviously. But good for music? Well, you’re opening up a whole can of worms. I mean, why did so many great jazz musicians get hooked on drugs? Maybe guys that were hung up on being a human being, they found that getting stoned helped them through the struggle. I recorded Stan Getz the first time he ever recorded without drugs. It was at A&M — he was wearing this red silk shirt that had sweat stains under both arms. He had like 75 reeds on the ground because he couldn’t pick out the right one. He finally found the right reed, got over the anxiety and started playing — same Stan Getz you heard throughout his career. These guys were under the assumption that being stoned would change what they played. I don’t think that holds any water.
Was there a time you thought it might be true? I did experiment with grass once. Turned on a recorder, took a puff, started playing some jazz. Took another puff, started playing some more jazz. I listened to that recording the next morning — it was terrible.
Can we do a little Herb Alpert trivia to finish? Do I have a choice?
“A Taste of Honey” won record of the year at the Grammys in 1966. You’re gonna ask why.
You beat the Beatles’ “Yesterday.” No kidding?
The year after “Taste of Honey,” you were nominated for record of the year again with “What Now My Love.” That one you lost. Remember what you lost to? Not “Louie, Louie.”
“Strangers in the Night.” That’s a real pop song. Love the guy, but not my favorite by him.
What’s your favorite Sinatra song? “Only the Lonely.”
“This Guy’s in Love With You” — great vocal performance. Why didn’t you do more? I’m not a singer.
Sure you are. I know it’s a great performance. But it was one take, man — I did that in one take.
This is what I’m saying. Look, I had an interesting guy in the sound booth who did the arrangements named Burt Bacharach.
I read that you talked with Burt a few times a week until he died. I did, and not about music. We talked about football, basketball, politics, you name it.
What’s your basketball team? Lakers.
Hard to be a Lakers fan these days. Easy to be a critic.
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