As symphony orchestras across the country struggle with shrinking budgets, aging audiences, dwindling subscription rolls and rising deficits, a new strategy for fighting these woes and related ones may be coming from St. Paul, Minn.
Earlier this year, the St. Paul Chamber Orchestra, a widely respected ensemble directed by conductor Hugh Wolff, took the bold step of appointing jazz singer-improviser Bobby McFerrin to its “creative chair.” In previous seasons, this somewhat loosely defined position had been held by John Adams and John Harbison, both classical composers in the traditional mold.
By selecting McFerrin for the job, which involves conducting and youth-education responsibilities, the St. Paul organization shattered enduring stereotypes regarding symphonic conductors. Certainly McFerrin was the first St. Paul Chamber Orchestra conductor to hold multiple Grammy Awards for jazz-scat recordings and to have had an international, multimillion-selling pop hit (1988’s “Don’t Worry, Be Happy”).
“I don’t know exactly why they thought I’d work out-I suppose the timing was just right,” says McFerrin, who, at the very least, has generated considerable press attention during these early days of his St. Paul tenure.
“We had such a gratifying musical experience together (during McFerrin’s first appearance at St. Paul’s podium, in February), that it just seemed that it would fit.
“Maybe they thought that I could bring to kids the sense of the joy of music making, and also that I could bring to the orchestra an audience that is not really familiar with classical music. Maybe I could show listeners that classical music is alive and well and fun to play and not as out of reach as a lot of people might think. I hope so.”
Surely McFerrin, who will conduct members of the Chicago Symphony Orchestra in a New Year’s Eve concert in Orchestra Hall, is bound to reach listeners who otherwise might shudder at the prospect of sitting through an evening of Beethoven and Bizet. The man’s very manner-complete with his rubber-limbed gestures and his ebullient facial expressions-seems likely to disarm those who might otherwise feel uncomfortable in a symphonic concert hall.
That McFerrin also happens to be a virtuoso vocalist who can sing the intricate melody line to a Vivaldi Violin Concerto as easily as he can riff on the chord changes to “Body and Soul” seems likely to enhance his appeal to broader audiences. And that’s what symphony managers across the United States have been trying to draw.
McFerrin has conducted two concerts with the St. Paul Chamber Orchestra, and the critical response has been mixed.
Last month, the New York Times applauded him, noting that “the orchestra responded enthusiastically to Mr. McFerrin’s leadership on Wednesday with performances of a refinement and subtlety that came as a surprise. . . . The music pulsated even at slow tempos, breathed even at quick ones.”
The St. Paul Pioneer Press disagreed, asserting that McFerrin was “over his head” in Ravel’s “Le Tombeau de Couperin” and “swamped” in Haydn’s Symphony No. 102 in B-flat. “His lack of stick technique showed up first in the second movement of the Ravel, with its repeated rhythmic figures. As the movement went on, these became more and more sluggish, making any attempt by the players to phrase useless.”
McFerrin, who took up the baton unusually late in life, at age 40 (in 1990), acknowledges that he still is a long way from mastering this most elusive of musical arts.
“It’s true that there’s just so much to learn,” says McFerrin, who will offer music of Mozart, Faure, Tchaikovsky and others during his CSO concert.
“When I conducted my first concert, I did it for my 40th birthday. I wanted to do something that I wouldn’t forget, something that would just shake me in my boots.
“And at the time I thought, `That was interesting. OK, let’s party now.’
“But then I started getting all those calls to guest conduct, even though orchestras were aware that I had been studying conducting less than a year and that I knew only one piece. But I guess it was my name (recognition), the people I was drawing (into the concert hall) that appealed to these orchestras.
“And every time I conducted another concert, I grew to love it more.
“So far, I think I’m doing OK. I’m still concerned about technique, and I definitely haven’t gotten to the point where I don’t think about technique while I’m conducting.
“When I first open a score, I still go into shock. I think, `Oh, my goodness, what’s going on here?’
“So I’ve had to work on score reading, ear training, sight reading, all the things that I hadn’t really worked on since college now are part of my morning ritual. But what fun.”
McFerrin, who does not dream small, says he considers Carlos Kleiber and Leonard Bernstein his podium heroes. Both represent an openly emotional approach to the baton in which the conductor attempts to inspire players rather than merely direct them.
“Carlos and Lenny are it for me because of their sense of freedom and joy,” McFerrin says. “Kleiber is really interesting, because he’s the only conductor that I’ve watched who really doesn’t beat (time)-he really is riding on the phrases.
“With him, it’s like watching the Zen of conducting, and that’s my goal, because at this point I’m conducting (or gesticulating) too much, and I know it. Believe me, I know my technical faults.”
At the same time, however, McFerrin appears to bring to the podium a spirit of adventure and improvisation that defines his jazz work but that one doesn’t often encounter in a symphonic setting. On some occasions, McFerrin has been known to ask musicians-in the midst of a concert-to play a piece for which they have no scores. He also has asked players to put down their instruments and sing along with him.
Clearly, McFerrin relishes applying the freewheeling spirit of the jazz club to the more formal rules of the concert hall.
“I’m sure my improvising background affects what I do in many ways,” says McFerrin. “There simply are certain things that I like to leave to the moment. I like to leave space for a last bit of inspiration.”
Where all this fascination with conducting will take McFerrin is anyone’s guess. Though some critics will consider him an interloper from the world of jazz, McFerrin seems determined to make a go of this. He recently moved his family from San Francisco to St. Paul, committing their future, as well as his own, to his podium aspirations.
Meanwhile, he has not given up on jazz, with one and possibly two new vocal recordings to be released next year.
It’s an unconventional approach to a music industry that prefers to pigeonhole artists in one category or another. But unconventional moves always have been McFerrin’s mode of operation.
When “Don’t Worry, Be Happy” became an international phenomenon, for instance, McFerrin dropped out of sight for a year and a half.
“I did it because prior to that I was away from home so much, I was becoming a stranger to my wife and kids,” says McFerrin, 44. “And I started thinking, `This ain’t worth it.’ I mean, fame comes and goes, but my family is forever.
“So I just made a decision, even before `Don’t Worry,’ that I was going to take a sabbatical.
“And when `Don’t Worry’ became a hit, the record company was screaming like crazy: `You don’t want to tour? You’ve got this big hit and you don’t want to tour? What’s wrong with you?’
“And I just said, `Forget about it,’ and it was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.”
Now, with his family in St. Paul, he can concentrate on classical music and, he hopes, to spread word of its joys.
“I think that the future of music rests in musicians’ remembering that what we’re doing is playing music.
“The very first command that your music teacher tells you is, `OK, play!’ We forget that music should be playful.
“And if I can do anything with these kids (who attend the youth concerts of the St. Paul Chamber Orchestra), it’s to try to remind them about the joy of music. We don’t work-we play.”
