MHSchool: McGraw-Hill Music 2005

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Opening:

"Fascinatin' Rhythm" — Spotlight on Music, Book 5, page 186, CD 10:19 [Duration- 3:22]. Sung by Ella Fitzgerald; accompanied by Nelson Riddle Orchestra, Nelson Riddle, conductor. (One refrain is heard, then the recording continues as house lights are dimmed, a picture of George Gershwin is revealed, and the Announcer, Reporter, the Music Professor, and Paul Whiteman take the stage. The Announcer goes to the microphone under the sign showing the station call letters. The reporter goes to the other. The Music Professor, Olin Downes, and Paul Whiteman sit nearby.)

Announcer:

Yes! "Fascinatin' Rhythm"— a great song from that most fascinating of popular music composers, George Gershwin— and last night's concert was his most fascinating creation to date — the world premiere performance of "Rhapsody in Blue" — the first concerto ever written for piano and jazz orchestra!

Welcome, listeners, to the broadcast of "News from the World of the Arts" from radio station WNNN (or your choice of letters) in New York City — dateline February 13, 1924. This is your anchor person, (insert the reader's real or imagined name). For details we switch now to one of our reporters in the field, (insert the reader's real or imagined name).

Reporter:

Last night, Paul Whiteman's innovative and daring concert, "An Experiment in Modern Music," took place in Aeolian Concert Hall at 34 West 43rd Street. Ticket prices ranged from 55 cents to $2.20. Whiteman enlarged his usual group of musicians to 23 players for the occasion, many of them "doubling" on more than one of the instruments, which included: a banjo, an accordion, flugelhorns, a euphonium, a celesta, a heckelphone (a type of bass oboe), bass clarinets, a basset horn, and an octavin (a cross between a clarinet, a bassoon, and an oboe). What sounds there must have been!

All the top, first-string music critics in New York came to the concert — something of a triumph for a "pop" concert, as you might guess. There was much excitement generated for days before the concert itself. One writer said that, for all the pre-concert notices, the event might have been a fight for the heavyweight championship of the world! The audience was jammed with a "who's who" of great musicians: Fritz Kreisler, Jascha Heifetz, Sergei Rachmaninoff, Leopold Stokowski, John Philip Sousa, and Igor Stravinsky, to name just a few. Maestro Paul Whiteman, himself, is here to describe the scene. Mr. Whiteman?

Whiteman:

Yes, I'll be glad to! Well, 15 minutes before the concert, I sneaked around to the front of the theater to take a peek. It was a near riot! There were four times as many people trying to get into the concert hall as we had room for. Everyone was pushing and shoving each other! I was truly terrified and would have called the entire thing off at that point if I could have!

Reporter:

But you couldn't — and you didn't, and we can certainly be glad of that. I hear the stage area itself looked quite unusual! Tell us about it, Mr. Whiteman.

Whiteman:

You can call me "Pops." Everyone does. Well, the stage setting was really exotic, with Chinese Mandarin figures, and an Oriental backdrop — all very "in" these days. We had things hanging all over — gongs, frying pans, tin pots — even an ear trumpet, which we used as a trombone mute. The whole event, of course, was my idea in the first place! And a very good idea it was, too, if I do say so myself!

Reporter:

Thanks, Mr. Whiteman — er, "Pops!" Now, for a description of the music itself, we hear from Olin Downes, the famous music critic. Mr. Downes?

Olin Downes:

Thank you. The musicians were like nothing I had ever seen in a concert. For example, the clarinet player wore a battered old top hat. Sometimes he even played into it. The man with the trombone, on occasion, picked up a bathtub or something from the floor and blew into that. The instrumentalists beat time with their feet and fidgeted around nervously when they weren't playing — things that never happen at the symphony. And then there was Mr. Whiteman, who does not conduct — he trembles, wobbles, quivers — he is, in short, a piece of jazz jelly, conducting the orchestra.

Whiteman:

Well, really!

Olin Downes:

Sorry, but it's true, "Pops!" To go on, the early part of the concert consisted of older popular music, which was to serve as historical background to the "modern" jazz in the later part. Actually, the audience didn't really like the concert at first; but, then, late in the long evening, came "Rhapsody in Blue" with George Gershwin at the piano, and the evening simply exploded! You can't imagine what a shock it was to all of us in this year of 1924. This was not a simple jazz treatment of a song, but a serious composition in jazz style, written by a pop composer! It began with a long, clarinet trill — followed by an outrageously impudent upward slide on the instrument. People could hardly believe their ears. It was like a statement that this music was going to be different — that it was going to be American — and that it was going to be jazz! One gorgeous theme followed another — one hardly finishing before the next began. Gershwin's piano virtuosity was absolutely dazzling. Halfway through there came the almost indescribably glorious slow theme; then, a truly thrilling no-holds-barred ending with a crashing version of the clarinet melody that began it all. When it was over, people could not stop clapping. They loved it!

Gershwin:

(Appearing on stage) Can I say something now?

Announcer:

Why, of course! Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce none other than George Gershwin himself! Congratulations on last night's triumph, George!

Gershwin:

Uh — you can call me Mr. Gershwin!

Announcer:

Oh, right. Mr. Gershwin. Now you have instantly become an immortal composer, I guess it's the least we can do. Can you tell us how you came to compose "Rhapsody in Blue," Mr. Gershwin?

Whiteman:

I told you already — it was my idea! And how come George gets to be "Mr. Gershwin," while I'm still "Pops?"

Gershwin:

Well, "Pops," don't feel bad. You've got an even more impressive title — "The King of Jazz!" — and I do give you credit for the idea of this piece. When I was born in Brooklyn, in 1898, I never dreamed of anything like this; and, by the age of 15, when I got a job plugging songs on the piano for customers in the Remick Company in "Tin Pan Alley," I thought I would be doing that for the rest of my life. But, when "Pops" decided to put on this crazy, serious jazz concert, and asked me to compose a concerto for it, I was already busy writing musical comedies. I even forgot he had asked me to compose it.

Reporter:

So, how did you come to compose it?

Gershwin:

In January, I saw it announced in the paper! Wow! I decided then that I would just have to compose something, for the sake of my own reputation and I decided to make it a rhapsody for piano and orchestra. Suddenly an idea occurred to me. There had been much chatter about the limitations of jazz, and misunderstandings about it. Jazz, they said, had to be in strict time. It had to cling to the currently popular dance rhythms like the fox trot and the Charleston. I decided, if possible, to kill the misconceptions with one sturdy blow.

Reporter:

Did you have a magic moment of vision as to how you would do this, Mr. Gershwin?

Gershwin:

I certainly did! It was on a train to Boston that I suddenly heard — even saw on paper in my imagination — the complete construction of the rhapsody, from beginning to end — including the final section based on the rhythm of the train itself. I heard it as a sort of musical kaleidoscope of America — of our vast melting pot, of our unduplicated national pep, of our blues, of our metropolitan madness.

Reporter:

What was your inspiration for the slow main theme?

Gershwin:

Well, I was at the home of a friend — rattling away without a thought of rhapsodies in blue or any other color. All at once I heard myself playing a theme that must have been haunting me inside, seeking outlet. No sooner had it oozed out of my fingers than I knew I had found it. I don't believe that the rhapsody took more than three weeks to write, on and off. As you may know, the great composer and arranger Ferde Grofé orchestrated the "Rhapsody" for me.

Reporter:

How did you come up with the "blue" part of the title, Mr. Gershwin?

Gershwin:

Well, I really can't stay to answer that, right now. I'm on my way to a big party — in MY honor!

Professor:

Can I can answer that for you, George?

Gershwin:

Go right ahead, Professor. (George leaves.)

Professor:

Blues is a kind of jazz music based on the tradition of the spiritual. It's usually written in a scale called a "blues scale." Here's a chart that shows the differences between the more usual major scale and a blues scale:

MAJOR SCALE:	C	D	E	F	G	A	B	C
BLUES SCALE:	C	D	Eb	F	Gb	A	Bb	C

Listen as I play first a major scale, then a blues scale. (He plays each scale.)

The blues scale features notes referred to as "blue" notes. In a major scale, these are flat 3, flat 7, and sometimes flat 5. In "Rhapsody in Blue" the "blue" notes really make it sound like jazz. (He, or an "assistant," plays the following melody lines without, then with, the melody lines: page 2 last score, last line before the piano entrance. (Play as if in Ab major: No Cb, Fb, Gb; then, as written.) page 13, Measures 1–4 (Tempo Giusto) (Play as if in C major: No Bb, D#, F#; then, as written.) page 26, Measures 1–7 (Play as if in G major: No F natural; then, as written.)

Now, listen to the main middle melody in "Rhapsody in Blue" (page 29) and decide if it is in the blues scale. (It is played.) What do you think? If you think it is not, you're right! It's in major. George is not here to ask why, but there are several possible explanations. One might be that George wanted to show that a melody did not have to be in the blues scale to sound "jazzy." Another might be simply to make contrast more with the rest of the themes, which use "blue" notes rather extensively.

Another way that George made the piece sound "jazzy" was to use jazz rhythms. There's lots of "syncopation."

Reporter:

Lots of what? What's syncopation? Sounds like a disease of some kind.

Whiteman:

No, my friend, syncopation refers to rhythms in which accented sounds, or silences, are found in unexpected places.

Professor:

May I illustrate?

Reporter:

Please do, Professor. (He holds up another large chart with the following numerals on it.) Say the following, clapping every time you say "one":

12 3 4 1 2 3 4 1 2 3 4

(All, including the audience, say it together. He turns the chart over to reveal the following variation.)

Now, try saying the following, strongly accenting and clapping on the numbers shown in bold.

1 2 3 4 1 2 3 4 1 2 3 4

(Note: It's fun to do the pattern in the following way: "clap pat L. pat R." and so on.)

There are lots of examples of these "groups of threes" in "Rhapsody in Blue." Here are a few of them (He, or his "assistant" play some, or all, of the following:)

page 7, measures 6-7-8

page 6, measure 10

page 8, measure 2

page 10, measures 4-5-6

page 27, measures 5-6-7-8-9-10-11-12

page 31, measures 5-6-7-8

page 33, beginning on bottom score

Throughout, you will hear strong contrasts between sections in strict tempo and rhythm, as in early jazz, and those with considerable rhythmic freedom.

Downes:

Oh, you mean we're going to get to actually hear "Rhapsody in Blue?"

Reporter:

Well, yes, we are!

Whiteman:

Oh! It's a good thing I brought along my baton! But I don't have my orchestra! And where's George?

Announcer:

Well, actually, "Pops," we're going to hear it played by (Fill in the names of the recorded or live performers). (Whiteman looks crestfallen.) But afterward, you can lead the chorus in a song by Gershwin.

Whiteman:

Oh, good. That's more like it! So, let's hear my "Rhapsody in Blue!" Get on with it! What are you waiting for?

Announcer:

For all of us to get out of the way, I guess, — and I believe its still George Gershwin's "Rhapsody in Blue," "Pops!" (They leave the stage.)

Whiteman:

You can call me "Mr. Whiteman."