The prize included further training and, eventually a contract - though, as a black singer, he was skeptical about his prospects. In 1953, he won a contest sponsored by New York’s Metropolitan Opera. (As part of his training regimen, he warned Robert away from gospel and pop.) His studies at Chicago Musical College were interrupted by the draft after a three-year stint in the Army he returned to complete his degree.Īfter college, Robert performed on Broadway and with a number of opera companies before setting his sights on the big prize. The choir director recognized his talent, offering private instruction that included classical vocal technique. Still, his goal was to teach English, and when he auditioned for his high school choir, it was reluctantly. attracted notice at an early age for his singing ability. Born in 1921 as the son of a traveling Baptist preacher, Robert Sr. was a renowned opera singer and voice instructor. McFerrin grew up in an august musical environment his mother Sara was a soloist at the McFerrins’ Episcopalian church. Such a move would have been hard to explain to his parents. Already a Grammy-garlanded jazz musician, he quickly returned to that world rather than, say, guesting on Baywatch. (As such, it was anathema to Chuck D, who dissed the song in Public Enemy’s earthshaking “Fight The Power.”) Unlike the Beach Boys, however, McFerrin essentially declined to attempt a suitable follow-up.
(Haters of UB40’s “Red Red Wine,” which hit #1 a month later, may disagree.) Like “Kokomo,” “Don’t Worry” was created by the product of a musical family, offered ersatz island flavor, and promised some sort of getaway from modern ills. The first chart-topper without any instrumentation, it sounded, almost by definition, unlike anything else on the radio.
Six weeks before it topped the Hot 100, Bobby McFerrin’s “Don’t Worry Be Happy” became the ultimate left-field #1, 30 years ago this week. Still, “Kokomo” was but the second Cocktail selection to pull this off.
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Hardly anyone plays the song anymore, but it still represents something to a certain cohort, even as the movie whose soundtrack it graced - Cocktail - is barely remembered. Marketers were happy to oblige, renaming bars and resorts in a bid to snare some of this longing. This anodyne ode to middle-class escape fulfilled its own prophecy: Folks deluged Key West with calls, looking for the mythical Kokomo. “Kokomo,” which I wrote about in the summer, was like that. If something lands just right, it can live within the mood, extend it, and even infest other areas. I think of it like this: Any given chart run has a certain chemical makeup, depending on whatever fumes (infatuation, joy, nostalgia, longing) our creaking capitalist system is belching out at the moment. If you’re going to use the Hot 100 to discern the state of radio-listening (and streaming) Americans, it’s generally better to consider the chart in aggregate, rather than focusing on the top.
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