In September 1988, a road-tattered Bobby McFerrin made the defining decision of his career. His frothy single "Don't Worry, Be Happy" had sold a million copies and ascended to No. 1 on the pop chart. Superstardom was ripe for the picking. This is when Bobby McFerrin decided to go home, to rest, to be with his family. He planned to take a year off. The hiatus lasted 18 months. By then, "Don't Worry, Be Happy" was but a distant memory."I didn't tour at all," McFerrin said in a phone interview. "The record company wanted me to open the Grammys that year. I wanted to stay home with my family. Three days before my sabbatical started, I took a Polaroid picture of myself standing at the airport with my bags. When I got home I put it by my phone. Whenever I'd answer the phone, before I'd go anywhere to perform or do anything, I'd look at myself in that picture. And I'd say no. I'd look at my face, my droopy body, and realize it couldn't go on. The offers were coming in like crazy — Warren Beatty wanted me to be in Dick Tracy — but I wanted to have a real life."
He makes it sound so rational, doesn't he? But in the world of show business, McFerrin's retreat was tantamount to heresy. The platinum ring is there, dammit; you reach for it. The brilliant singer/composer took a pass and has no regrets.
Not being a megastar has freed McFerrin to tackle myriad creative endeavors, most of which have nothing to do with the charts or huge concert grosses. He is best known for his solo performances, where he appears barefoot on stage and wantonly improvises his way through a set full of high jinks and surprise but is anchored by an innate musicality. His rich, multi-octave voice has always been, always will be, a marvel.
One of McFerrin's strongest professional passions has become conducting, which he's done with many of the world's major symphony orchestras. It currently makes up about a third of his career. His upcoming appearance with The Florida Orchestra will be his third. Of course, McFerrin doesn't just walk out to applause, take the podium and start wielding the baton. He spices up his guest conductor gigs with the spontaneous, audience-interactive vignettes that are known as his stock-in-trade. He might single-handedly sing and act a portion of The Wizard of Oz. He might tackle a brief classical piece, one-man-band style. In short, he'll inject some lighthearted fun into the often-stuffy environment of the symphony hall.
"It might be anything," says Florida Orchestra librarian Ella Fredrickson of McFerrin's musical antics. "He might sing over the top of the orchestra, although not this time, as far as I know. A wonderful thing he did last time he was here was give the audience different harmony parts to 'Ave Maria,' and then he sang over the top of it."
Though he likes to ham it up, make no mistake: McFerrin comes to conduct. He got the bug in 1990, when the San Francisco Symphony requested his presence on the pedestal to celebrate his 40th birthday.
"As far as I was concerned that [one appearance] was the extent of it; I never expected to conduct again," McFerrin says. "Lo and behold, another one came my way, and then another, all these invitations. Then I began to really study it as I went. I'm feeling a lot more comfortable and relaxed, but I still don't feel that I'm a conductor. People will say, 'Hey, Maestro,' and I nip that in the bud. 'My name's Bobby and I'm not a master. I'm not.'"
Fredrickson respectfully disagrees: "He's like any other guest conductor. He's in charge, bringing whatever musical attributes he can lend to it. I don't think the musicians look at him as the 'Don't Worry, Be Happy' guy. He's accomplished. He's done his dues. He's in a different circle now."
Contact Senior Writer Eric Snider at 813-248-8888, ext. 114, or snider@ weeklyplanet.com.
This article appears in Feb 19-25, 2003.