An interview with musical sensation Bobby McFerrin

On April 4, TDI writers Rashid Galadanci and Dan O’Brien sat down in a small room in Rollins to interview Bobby McFerrin. As McFerrin made his way over to the couch they were sitting on, he abstractly imitated several instruments to himself before taking a seat. For those who are only familiar with the recordings he made with Yo-Yo Ma, Chick Corea, or Herbie Hancock, it was strange but novel to hear his voice unaccompanied. After a very short round of formal introductions, the following conversation transpired between the two very humbled TDI writers and the ten-time Grammy winner.

Galadanci: You’ve gone way beyond what the average singer, as far as vocal experimenting goes. What led you to break down the traditional limitations of vocal performance?

McFerrin: I didn’t set out to do anything like that. I just set out to find out what this urge was inside me to be onstage by myself and sing. So basically I had to explore that. What I do is I go into a room and turn on a tape recorder and start singing. The idea of singing solo voice is what’s fascinated me the most, and so I came up with a technique that made myself and other people hear more than what actually happened. It’s like being an illusionist and creating an illusion that there’s more than one thing going on. That was the goal. But I didn’t set out to break down barriers or anything like that; I just set out trying to find out what my urge to sing was about.

Galadanci: So when you started out, were you singing more traditional jazz tunes?

McFerrin: I used to sing a lot of traditional jazz tunes. In fact, I started out singing standards in piano bars and with jazz bands. But I always liked to improvise, you know, and so I started the traditional way, but I was always interested in trying out new things.

Galadanci: So was there a certain day when you said to yourself, “I’m going to sound like a flute?”

McFerrin: No, I never, ever, ever set out to mimic or sound like instruments. That was never in my thinking. I wouldn’t listen to a tenor sax and say I’m going to play a tenor sax sound; I wouldn’t listen to a trumpet and say I’m going to play a trumpet sound. I basically just would open up my mouth and see what sounds would come out.

O’Brien: Were there any performers that influenced you?

McFerrin: No, not singers. When I first started out I purposefully stayed away from listening to singers for two years. I didn’t want to cop anyone’s lick. I wanted to make sure I was getting a feel for what my voice sounded like.

O’Brien: In your work as a vocalist, you’re best known for your classical and folk work, but you’ve also performed a substantial volume of world music and folk pieces. How do you approach the different genres you delve into? Do you study one at a time?

McFerrin: No, I approach them all the same way. I walk on stage at a jazz gig the same way I walk onstage when I’m about to conduct an orchestra - the same mindset. Though it’s different kinds of music, I’m the same, the same person, the singer. When I’m standing in front of an orchestra, I don’t sing through my mouth, I sing through my hands, I sing through my eyes. It’s like conducting completes myself as a singer because when I’m singing at a jazz gig - or what I’m going to do tomorrow night - I’m using my voice.

I also like singing through my body, too. And the only way I can do that is getting in front of an orchestra and conducting. I love Mozart, I love Beethoven, I love Ravel, I love Prokofiev. Being able to sing through my body these pieces is why I conduct. I approach everything the same way. Even though it’s different music, it’s like you grew up in a house where your father spoke Italian and your mother spoke Spanish. When your father speaks to you, you respond in Italian, and when your mother speaks to you, you respond in Spanish. And you’re not even thinking about it, it’s the same you, the same person and you respond. It’s the same person, but you’re speaking in a whole other language from a whole other culture with a whole different music that you might’ve heard. So anytime you go into France to speak French, it’s you going into France to speak French. So with me, it’s the same. When I walk into the classical world, it’s me going there; when I walk into the jazz world, it’s me going there.

Everything begins from the same point. The requirements are a little different – in the classical world, you rehearse, you talk about the music.

You can never step on stage with jazz musicians and say B flat here it is and you go. And with jazz musician, you don’t have to count - you just start. But you can’t do that in the classical world. Can you imagine getting up there and just saying (imitating the gruff voice of a jazz band leader) “Mozart symphony number forty hit me one, two.” So you rehearse, you talk about the music, and then you just perform it.

Galadanci: And if you change the key on them?

McFerrin: That’s right. “I want you to transpose all your flats into E flat…”

Galadanci: For a young musician, there’s a lot of pressure to focus on one genre. What would you suggest to an aspiring musician who doesn’t want to be confined to one genre?

McFerrin: Well, you’ve got to find your path. My path started out as a vocalist, and I felt for me there was something missing, so I started conducting. It was just like this piece of a puzzle. I’d finished almost all the pieces in a puzzle, but there was this one piece in the corner that was missing and I just had to fit it in there – classical music was it. It’s very fulfilling to do both. I grew up with Count Basie and Beethoven, so I had to do both.

Wynton [Marsalis] focused on jazz, and he’s right about that. For some people, he’s absolutely right; some people should just study one form of music. But other people like myself - I love bluegrass, I love some country music, I love African music, I love flamenco. You know? For my ears it’s like, “Wow, I gotta explore that, I gotta get in there.”

Galadanci: Do you find yourself drawn to doing fusion or just trying to stick within a genre?

McFerrin: These definitions just get in the way, they really do. I don’t think about any of that stuff. I think about the music that I’m thinking about when I’m thinking about it. That’s just the best answer I can give. When I’m improvising, I draw on everything that I’ve heard that day, or the last week, or the last month. I fuse it inside me somewhere. In one improvisation, I might start out with something that sounds like Bach and wind up with Charlie Parker. So I guess that is a fusion.