by Ryan Raul Bañagale
February 12, 1924, was a frigid day in New York City. But that didn’t stop an intrepid group of concertgoers from gathering in midtown Manhattan’s Aeolian Hall for “An Experiment in Modern Music.” The organizer, bandleader Paul Whiteman, wanted to show how jazz and classical music could come together. And as a part of that he commissioned a new work by a 25-year-old Jewish-American upstart named George Gershwin.
Gershwin’s contribution to the program, Rhapsody in Blue, would go on to exceed anyone’s wildest expectations, becoming one of the best-known works of the 20th century. Beyond the concert hall, it would appear in iconic films such as Woody Allen’s Manhattan and Disney’s Fantasia 2000. It was performed during the opening ceremonies of the 1984 Los Angeles Olympics, and if you ever fly on United Airlines, you’ll hear it playing during the preflight safety videos.
But Rhapsody isn’t some static composition stuck in the past; rather, it’s a continuously evolving piece of music whose meaning has changed over time. Rhapsody in Blue is a living, breathing entity that reflects the dynamic cultural landscape of America. It captures the spirit of the roaring 1920s while transcending it, allowing each generation to find new resonances within its sweeping melodies and jazz-infused rhythms. This piece isn’t just a historical artifact; it’s a mirror reflecting the complexities, the aspirations, and the creative energies of both the past and the present. Each performance, each interpretation, adds another layer to its rich tapestry, ensuring that the Rhapsody remains as relevant and vibrant today as it was at its premiere.
Whiteman commissioned Gershwin to write Rhapsody sometime in late 1923. But as the story goes, the composer forgot about his assignment until he read about the upcoming concert in a newspaper on January 4, 1924. Gershwin had to work quickly, writing as time allowed in his busy schedule. Manuscript evidence suggests that he only worked on the piece a total of 10 days over the span of several weeks.
Accordingly, he relied on the familiar melodies, harmonies, rhythms and musical structures that had started to garner him acclaim as a popular composer for the Broadway stage. This music was increasingly influenced by early jazz, as the improvised, syncopated and blues-infused sound of Black musicians such as Louis Armstrong made its way north from New Orleans. Gershwin also mingled with, and was influenced by, some of the great Harlem stride pianists of the day, including James P. Johnson and Willie “The Lion” Smith.
Despite being quickly cobbled together, Rhapsody in Blue ultimately sold hundreds of thousands of records and copies of sheet music. Gershwin’s own performances of the work on tour also helped boost its popularity. Programming Rhapsody for concerts today has become somewhat of a double-edged sword. A century after it premiered, it remains a crowd favorite – and almost always guarantees a sold-out show.
Its success has opened the piece to criticism – particularly that Gershwin appropriated Black music, offering a whitewashed version of Harlem’s vibrant Black music scene. This is not only just a critique by 21st-century music historians. Shortly after its premiere in 1924, some Black artists were put off by the Rhapsody. But rather than calling it out in print, they did so through their own art.
In 1929, blues artist Bessie Smith starred in a short film called “St. Louis Blues,” based on the song of the same name by composer W.C. Handy. It features an all-Black cast, including members of the Fletcher Henderson Orchestra and the Hall Johnson Choir. Instrumental and vocal versions of Handy’s song provide the full sonic backdrop for this 15-minute film – with one very pointed exception.
Smith plays the part of Bessie, an unrequited lover to a duplicitous gambler named Jimmy. In the final scene, after a previous falling out, Jimmy and Bessie reconcile in a club. They embrace on the dance floor to the strains of “St. Louis Blues.” But unbeknownst to the love-struck Bessie, Jimmy carefully picks her pocket and unmercifully shoves her back to her bar stool. After Jimmy flashes his newly acquired bankroll, the opening clarinet glissando of Rhapsody in Blue begins. During this brief, 20-second cue, Jimmy boastfully backs out of the club, bowing and tipping his hat like a performer acknowledging his ovation.
It’s hard not to see the subtext of introducing Gershwin’s famous piece at this moment: Just as Jimmy has robbed Bessie, the film suggests that Gershwin had pilfered jazz from the Black community.
Another musical response to Rhapsody emerged in 1927 from Gershwin’s stride pianist friend, James P. Johnson: Yamekraw. Publisher Perry Bradford billed the work as “not a Rhapsody in Blue, but a Rhapsody in Black and White (Black notes on White paper).” Of course, the “black notes” were more than just the score itself. Johnson demonstrates how a Black musician would approach the rhapsody genre.
Gershwin once described Rhapsody “as a sort of musical kaleidoscope of America – of our vast melting pot.” The problem with the “melting pot” metaphor is that it asks immi[1]grants to leave behind cultural practices and identities in order to assimilate into the majority population. And that’s just what Whiteman’s musical experiment at Aeolian Hall a century ago was all about: He sought, as he put it, to “make a lady out of jazz.”
As the concert’s program read, “Mr. Whiteman intends to point out, with the assistance of his orchestra and associates, the tremendous strides which have been made in popular music from the day of the discordant Jazz … to the really melodious music of today.”
In other words, he wanted to fold the era’s popular jazz music into classical music – and, in doing so, draw out the inherent beauty in the beast, making it more acceptable to mainstream white audiences.
If Gershwin’s Rhapsody is meant to be heard as a “musical kaleidoscope of America,” it is important to remember who’s holding the lens, what music gets added to the mix, and how it has changed once admitted. But it’s also important to remember that 100 years is a long time. What the culture values, and why, inevitably changes.
The same is true for Rhapsody in Blue.
And that is why audiences return again and again to its vibrant fusion of classical music and jazz. From the famous opening clarinet glissando to its rhythmic energy and rich harmonies, Gershwin’s piece showcases a blend of tradition and innovation. The piece features a host of memorable melodies and an improvisatory feel, especially in the piano, creating an atmosphere of spontaneity and joy. As you listen, enjoy the dynamic contrasts and emotional range that make this work a timeless celebration of innovation and creativity, one that continues to uplift and inspire.
Ryan Raul Bañagale is Associate Professor and Chair of Music at Colorado College
by Ryan Raul Bañagale
February 12, 1924, was a frigid day in New York City. But that didn’t stop an intrepid group of concertgoers from gathering in midtown Manhattan’s Aeolian Hall for “An Experiment in Modern Music.” The organizer, bandleader Paul Whiteman, wanted to show how jazz and classical music could come together. And as a part of that he commissioned a new work by a 25-year-old Jewish-American upstart named George Gershwin.
Gershwin’s contribution to the program, Rhapsody in Blue, would go on to exceed anyone’s wildest expectations, becoming one of the best-known works of the 20th century. Beyond the concert hall, it would appear in iconic films such as Woody Allen’s Manhattan and Disney’s Fantasia 2000. It was performed during the opening ceremonies of the 1984 Los Angeles Olympics, and if you ever fly on United Airlines, you’ll hear it playing during the preflight safety videos.
But Rhapsody isn’t some static composition stuck in the past; rather, it’s a continuously evolving piece of music whose meaning has changed over time. Rhapsody in Blue is a living, breathing entity that reflects the dynamic cultural landscape of America. It captures the spirit of the roaring 1920s while transcending it, allowing each generation to find new resonances within its sweeping melodies and jazz-infused rhythms. This piece isn’t just a historical artifact; it’s a mirror reflecting the complexities, the aspirations, and the creative energies of both the past and the present. Each performance, each interpretation, adds another layer to its rich tapestry, ensuring that the Rhapsody remains as relevant and vibrant today as it was at its premiere.
Whiteman commissioned Gershwin to write Rhapsody sometime in late 1923. But as the story goes, the composer forgot about his assignment until he read about the upcoming concert in a newspaper on January 4, 1924. Gershwin had to work quickly, writing as time allowed in his busy schedule. Manuscript evidence suggests that he only worked on the piece a total of 10 days over the span of several weeks.
Accordingly, he relied on the familiar melodies, harmonies, rhythms and musical structures that had started to garner him acclaim as a popular composer for the Broadway stage. This music was increasingly influenced by early jazz, as the improvised, syncopated and blues-infused sound of Black musicians such as Louis Armstrong made its way north from New Orleans. Gershwin also mingled with, and was influenced by, some of the great Harlem stride pianists of the day, including James P. Johnson and Willie “The Lion” Smith.
Despite being quickly cobbled together, Rhapsody in Blue ultimately sold hundreds of thousands of records and copies of sheet music. Gershwin’s own performances of the work on tour also helped boost its popularity. Programming Rhapsody for concerts today has become somewhat of a double-edged sword. A century after it premiered, it remains a crowd favorite – and almost always guarantees a sold-out show.
Its success has opened the piece to criticism – particularly that Gershwin appropriated Black music, offering a whitewashed version of Harlem’s vibrant Black music scene. This is not only just a critique by 21st-century music historians. Shortly after its premiere in 1924, some Black artists were put off by the Rhapsody. But rather than calling it out in print, they did so through their own art.
In 1929, blues artist Bessie Smith starred in a short film called “St. Louis Blues,” based on the song of the same name by composer W.C. Handy. It features an all-Black cast, including members of the Fletcher Henderson Orchestra and the Hall Johnson Choir. Instrumental and vocal versions of Handy’s song provide the full sonic backdrop for this 15-minute film – with one very pointed exception.
Smith plays the part of Bessie, an unrequited lover to a duplicitous gambler named Jimmy. In the final scene, after a previous falling out, Jimmy and Bessie reconcile in a club. They embrace on the dance floor to the strains of “St. Louis Blues.” But unbeknownst to the love-struck Bessie, Jimmy carefully picks her pocket and unmercifully shoves her back to her bar stool. After Jimmy flashes his newly acquired bankroll, the opening clarinet glissando of Rhapsody in Blue begins. During this brief, 20-second cue, Jimmy boastfully backs out of the club, bowing and tipping his hat like a performer acknowledging his ovation.
It’s hard not to see the subtext of introducing Gershwin’s famous piece at this moment: Just as Jimmy has robbed Bessie, the film suggests that Gershwin had pilfered jazz from the Black community.
Another musical response to Rhapsody emerged in 1927 from Gershwin’s stride pianist friend, James P. Johnson: Yamekraw. Publisher Perry Bradford billed the work as “not a Rhapsody in Blue, but a Rhapsody in Black and White (Black notes on White paper).” Of course, the “black notes” were more than just the score itself. Johnson demonstrates how a Black musician would approach the rhapsody genre.
Gershwin once described Rhapsody “as a sort of musical kaleidoscope of America – of our vast melting pot.” The problem with the “melting pot” metaphor is that it asks immi[1]grants to leave behind cultural practices and identities in order to assimilate into the majority population. And that’s just what Whiteman’s musical experiment at Aeolian Hall a century ago was all about: He sought, as he put it, to “make a lady out of jazz.”
As the concert’s program read, “Mr. Whiteman intends to point out, with the assistance of his orchestra and associates, the tremendous strides which have been made in popular music from the day of the discordant Jazz … to the really melodious music of today.”
In other words, he wanted to fold the era’s popular jazz music into classical music – and, in doing so, draw out the inherent beauty in the beast, making it more acceptable to mainstream white audiences.
If Gershwin’s Rhapsody is meant to be heard as a “musical kaleidoscope of America,” it is important to remember who’s holding the lens, what music gets added to the mix, and how it has changed once admitted. But it’s also important to remember that 100 years is a long time. What the culture values, and why, inevitably changes.
The same is true for Rhapsody in Blue.
And that is why audiences return again and again to its vibrant fusion of classical music and jazz. From the famous opening clarinet glissando to its rhythmic energy and rich harmonies, Gershwin’s piece showcases a blend of tradition and innovation. The piece features a host of memorable melodies and an improvisatory feel, especially in the piano, creating an atmosphere of spontaneity and joy. As you listen, enjoy the dynamic contrasts and emotional range that make this work a timeless celebration of innovation and creativity, one that continues to uplift and inspire.
Ryan Raul Bañagale is Associate Professor and Chair of Music at Colorado College
