In One “Rhapsody in Blue”

Rhapsody in Blue is one of composer and pianist George Gershwin’s most recognizable pieces and an enduring symbol of the Jazz Age. Gershwin originally didn’t want to write the piece. 

Paul Whiteman, an American Jazz bandleader and composer was inspired by an experimental classical-jazz concert held in New York City with Éva Gauthier, a Canadian singer. Wanting to build on this new idea, Whiteman asked Gershwin to write a concerto-like piece for an all-jazz concert that was to be held in honor of Abraham Lincoln’s birthday at Aeolian Hall. 

Located in midtown Manhattan just a few blocks from Bryant Park, Aeolian Building served as the headquarters of the Aeolian Company (which manufactured pianos, organs, and phonographs). From 1912 to 1927, the building also housed Aeolian Hall, a 1,100 seat concert hall and the top of its class in the day.

Whiteman’s orchestra was to give a concert at the venue on February 12, 1924 called “An Experiment in Modern Music.” The premise was an educational demonstration and celebration of American music that also infused jazz into the concert hall. This is the event Whiteman wanted Gershwin at.

Gershwin said no. 

On the grounds that he wouldn’t have enough time to compose and revise the score, he politely declined Whiteman’s invitation. A month and a half before the concert, on January 3, a 26-year-old Gershwin was playing billiards with a friend (the lyricist Buddy DeSylva) when George’s brother Ira (a prominent lyricist as well) interrupted their game with what then would have been akin to a breaking new notification on our phones today (a headline from the New York Tribune). 

The article claimed that George Gershwin had begun “work on a jazz concerto” for Whiteman’s concert. After a phone call the next morning—that, wow would I have loved to be a fly on the wall for—Whiteman convinced Gershwin to compose the piece. 

He began composing on January 7 and a few weeks later passed the score to Whiteman’s arranger (Ferde Grofé). Grofé finished orchestrating the piece on February 4.

February 12, 1924—a snowy Tuesday in New York City. Much has been written and whispered about “An Experiment in Modern Music.” Paul Whiteman and his Palais Royal Orchestra are the talk of the town. Night of, due to underwhelming early pieces and a faulty ventilation system in the concert hall, much of the audience is restless and irritable by the time Gershwin takes the stage.

With Gershwin on piano and 23 musicians in the ensemble, the piece begins with the distinct clarinet glissando that is so familiar to this day. 

What is unfamiliar to this day is that we will never reproduce exactly what was heard that night. Gershwin partially improvised his solo that evening and, after the fact, did not write what he had performed. What was heard that night—at least on the piano solo portion—remains a mystery.

What was clear that evening and in the decades to follow is that this debut would be a defining one for New York City and the Jazz Age more generally.

Three years later, the concert hall would close. And ten years after that, George Gershwin would die from a brain tumor in Los Angeles at the age of 38. 

I sat down this morning, cup of tea in hand, to expand on a note I’ve had sitting in my blog document for probably a year now. “In one Rhapsody in Blue.” Depending on whether you are listening to the more original jazz version or a modern orchestration, the song typically runs between 15 and 18 minutes. At some point, in a Rhapsody in Blue phase, I became obsessed with what I could do in the time it took me to listen to the song once. 

(This is akin to the childhood version of how much can you do while your popcorn is popping in the microwave or the adult version of what can I do before my tea kettle boils. If I find this is a unique-to-me situation, I can live with that. Gamify everything. Etc.)

In any case, the moral was going to be about how I owed someone an email and in my sleepiness last night, I wanted to make a note of it for later. But then I realized it’s something i could do “in one Rhapsody in Blue” (realistically, in half a Rhapsody in Blue) and because of that, I decided to write the email right then before I went to bed.

The moral was going to be about how sometimes you just need to do the thing and oh also listening to a classic piece of music can help.

But then I started researching the history of the song and of Gershwin’s life and of the Aeolian Building and I wonder if the moral is not a little more. 

George Gershwin didn’t want to write Rhapsody in Blue. He didn’t think he had time to do it justice. But when push came to shove—when it was literally printed in the newspaper that he was writing it—he rose to the occasion and wrote a damn amazing piece of music.

It can be nice to think about waiting until you have more time. Until you have uninterrupted focus on the thing. It can be nice to keep things on your terms and your expectations. But oh can’t it be fun to see what you’re capable of? To be pushed outside your comfort zone? To see what you can create? 

I’m sure he’d have liked more time. I’m sure Grofé (the arranger) would have too! 

But sometimes the only time you get is the time you have. 

It can be thrilling to create something beautiful with it.