The music of Taylor McFerrin isn’t much like what you’ve heard from his dad Bobby, whose own catalog leans heavy into the vocal jazz and scat-driven spectrum, save for ’80s-era hit (and the reason you know him), “Don’t Worry Be Happy.” Taylor maintains his dad’s style of effortless breeziness while exploring the realms of future soul, post-jazz, and ambient R&B, with heavy shades of hip-hop in the rhythms and funk in the bass lines. Another key difference between the two men, style aside, is that Bobby is classically educated. Taylor is self taught.
My turn-on to Taylor was his luscious, melody-pricked number with Robert Glasper and Thundercat, “Already There,” off 2014 debut Early Riser. He didn’t sing back then, but sophomore follow-up Love’s Last Chance, which dropped in August, reveals a casually elegant and velvety vocal that glides over understated but often ethereal grooves, the latter imbued via his generous collection of vintage (’70s-era) synths.
Taylor McFerrin plays Barboza tonight. I chatted with him in advance of his appearance in Seattle, and was surprised to find that it was not only his first time singing on an album, but pretty much his first time trying to sing professionally at all. Needless to say, there was a learning curve, though gaining self-confidence in his own talent was as challenging as figuring out his style of delivery and being generally out of his comfort zone. Check out our (edited for clarity) conversation below.
Can you tell me a little about the conception of this album? How did it come together? How was it different from Early Riser? Obviously you sing on this album.
This album was a struggle in a lot of ways. I always wanted to sing on a record, be the main singer, but that hasn’t been what I’ve spent most of my time and my career doing. I’ve always been more of a beatmaker and instrumentalist. I got into a good groove the first year or so working on it, and then, I kind of lost my direction, and didn’t feel like I was enjoying what my voice sounded like. I was a few years into the process, so I shifted my idea back to doing an Early Riser Part 2, just started hitting up vocalists to sing on tracks, but a lot of the songs were half recorded, just sitting around. I kind of hit an overall writer’s block two years ago. But just, the pressure of life … if you don’t put out a record, your career’s going to pretty much be over after a while.
I got lucky that Early Riser was really a slow-burning record, so I was able to tour behind it for about three years. But the fourth year, all my shows started drying up and I was also kind of, in that writer’s block phase. It’s not that I wasn’t making music—I actually had hundreds of songs, some were super unfinished, some were kind of close.
I think what got me out of my writer’s block, was working with the R+R=NOW BAND [McFerrin on synth, Robert Glasper on keys, Terrace Martin on synths and vocoder, Christian Scott aTunde Adjuah on trumpet, Derrick Hodge on bass, and Justin Tyson on drums].
That band got put together on a whim, we did a jam show together at SXSW a couple years ago, and it was like, a serious vibe, so Rob wanted to do a summer tour, and it just lined up that none of us had records coming out, we all had a free summer, and then Blue Note was getting so much buzz when they announced the tour, that they were like, ‘You guys down to record a record real quick?’ So we got into the studio and recorded an album in five days, and it really changed my perspective, it got me out of the loop I’d been in mentally, feeling like stuff needed to take so long, that it had to be perfect. That record [2018’s Collagically Speaking] was such a natural process of just trusting the moment. Being on tour with them, in some ways, it got me back into a good groove musically, and then in other ways, it made me miss touring my solo work, you know, like being on stage, presenting myself? So after that run was done, I made a final playlist of the tracks that I’d been working on, and this time I was like, I’m gonna sing, where ever I’m at, I’m gonna really go for this and just force myself to put out exactly where I’m at musically with my voice. And I think just making that decision helped me finish my record.
I had a couple of breakthroughs vocally. The first track that I recorded, that I felt sounded like me and felt natural, was “Love and Distance,” just a couple things about it. I was living in an apartment complex for a while, where I basically couldn’t make loud noises, so it was a struggle recording there sometimes. I pretty much recorded this whole record on headphones. At night, when I was doing scratch vocals, I’d just whisper-sing, but it actually kind of helped me understand I like my voice at a softer, speaking tone, and the breakthrough was that I didn’t really need to try to sing like I was on Broadway or something, really projecting. I think I may get better at projecting and expanding my range moving forward, but when I started listening back to a lot of the demos of me doing these quiet takes, it sounded more soulful, it sounded more natural, so once I found that I liked singing with a softer tone, that combined with just, like, a newfound energy from the tour, it accelerated the process. I recorded all vocals in a six-month period, and then I really wrapped up the record in a studio called Fever Studios, in the valley.
When I don’t make music or when I don’t tour, it really affects my mood. I like having that outlet.
It’s been strange, though, since I’m so new to singing, it’s weird for me to put singing over my production, because I’ve been producing for 20 years. It’s like mixing something I’m so comfortable with, with something I’m super uncomfortable with. Which I kind of love, because it’s making me feel really young again—that energy I had when I first started making beats … This album is like the equivalent of the first beats I wanted to play for people, but with vocals. So it feels great to have accomplished it, and now I feel like I’ve got over a lot of those fears that were holding me back from doing it the last time. So now I have the freedom to be more experimental and expand my range for my next project.
You mentioned that the limitations of your recording space meant you had to record the album very quietly, and it definitely feels like late night music—the music you put on after you’ve been out at the club. Mood music…
The funny thing is, I have this feeling of, like, “I’m done,” when I finished the record. But then, actually singing live and touring is a whole new ball game of starting from scratch.
One of my first shows, Terrace invited me to play at SF Jazz with him, and the band learned three of my songs, and it was one of my first times trying to sing live, and I was like, whoa, I’m not ready to sing with a backing back at this level, it kind of put me in my place a little.
It’s nice right now to feel really humble about my singing, because it gives me a lot of motivation to get better. And also just appreciate singers more. It makes you feel a lot of respect for people who are really masters of their craft. When I was growing up, I was a huge Stevie Wonder fan—he’s one of my favorite artists of all time—but even with Stevie, I didn’t really listen to his vocals or appreciate his writing or singing very much. I was always mesmerized by the instrumentals, the instrumental side of the music. Now that I’m doing vocals more, I can listen to all these old records in a different way, because now I’m trying to figure out their approach, what they were doing, their mic-ing techniques. It’s really similar to when I was listening to the production of songs, and trying to figure out what synths they were using. It’s mentally challenging and fun.
Tell me about your arsenal — you play keys, you sing, you … beatbox?
The only record I ever beat-boxed on is my first EP, the Broken Vibes EP; all the drums on that were beat-boxed drums. But I did a bunch of layers of vocal stuff, it wasn’t a beat-box showcase, it was still the drum parts and I was still playing on top of it. I always do a beat-box song at my shows, to kind of mix it up, some people think I’m really good at it, but I’ve literally never practiced it. It’s something I’ve done since grade school, so I guess I’ve slowly gotten better over time.
I’m much more focused on the production and playing keys and synths. I have a really healthy collection of vintage synthesizers, which is how I connect my sound to the jazz fusion era, and soul and funk, back when they were playing a lot of old synths. There’s just a different vibe with the old synths … similar to how vinyl, you play it and it has a different texture added to sound. Vintage analog synths just bring something magical to recordings to me. I’ve been collecting for a really long time. But I think I finally reached a point that I don’t need another synth. I can get any sound I want. At a certain point, you can have too much equipment, and you don’t even really record songs, you just mess around in the studio making sounds all day. Now I have my final set up now, so maybe I’ll expand at some point and have some huge studio and be really reckless spending money … but I think I’m good for a while.
Most people know your dad from his big ‘80s era radio hit, “Don’t Worry Be Happy,” but he has an incredible background in jazz and classical. What was it like growing up in the McFerrin household? Can I presume he encouraged your musical talents?
Growing up in my house was amazing, my parents were super supportive of whatever I wanted to do, but I came up listening to mostly hip-hop, wanting to make beats, and that was a really different world than … I wasn’t practicing piano, or going to music school and learning how to compose. There was always a big disconnect between how I was making music and how my dad came up learning music. They encouraged me, more by supporting me financially. But then I’d be all secretive, making beats in the basement and not playing them anything. I don’t know if they knew how seriously to take my musical talent.
My parents never discouraged me from anything, but they also didn’t really push me one way or another. They were really hippie about the way they raised me. I’m sure there are good and bad qualities to that. I think the best thing that came out of it was, I had a very slow development process as a musician, but I always felt like I had my own sound and my own approach because I didn’t really have any formal training.
I mostly feel like one of my main talents is, I have a sound and personality that’s unique because of how I came up learning music; most of my education has been from just being in bands with some really incredible players…. I’m always learning on the spot and gaining knowledge from who I play with. I never actually went to music school. I have a high comprehension rate, it’s easy for me to recreate stuff, but I can’t play a single jazz standard, I can’t read music very well, I’m kind of a self-contained producer; if I want to make something, it’s like a puzzle I’m putting together, and I can slowly get to where I want to go, but all that conventional songwriting and theory, I’m not really thinking about that.
