How Jazz Found Itself. Through the Symphonic Poem.

 

The twentieth century awakened early, with the rise of the sun, stirred by the ferment of previous years. The lingering effects of the "long depression" at the end of the 1800s had come to an end, giving way to the splendid opulence of the European "belle époque," the French "cancans," and the Italian "liberty." History was changing, intent on channeling the insurrectionary movements of the '60s into a world conflict: nationalisms would take over, the great political doctrines of the 1800s would become practical applications, and the myth of social "propaganda" would be born. In the wake of great technological discoveries, the twentieth century would soon witness the spread of electricity, the first automobile assembly lines of Henry Ford, and Guglielmo Marconi's radio. Distances would be bridged through communication. It would soon find its reflection in the freshly born cinema of the Lumière brothers, the silent existentialisms of Eisenstein and Dreyer, the bittersweet expressions of Chaplin and Keaton. It would bid farewell to the grand inspirations of Romanticism to embrace the increasingly intricate particularism in art and literature: Dadaism, Expressionism, Futurism would be just a few of the many currents of the new century, some of the many paths that the modern artist would need to traverse to avoid being confined within the restrictive canons of a cultural "movement."

And what about Music? The Art of the Muses, the most sublime. Notably and especially so, it too underwent remarkable upheavals. The nineteenth century left behind the romantic scores of Schumann, Chopin, and Liszt, the lengthy and controversial symphonic digressions of Richard Strauss and Mahler, the monumental epics of Wagner and Verdi. Soon, the romantic momentum would dwindle under the aegis of the new musical Impressionism of Debussy and Ravel, the Dodecaphonic Modernism of Schoenberg, and the early icy electronic experiments of Stockhausen and Henry. Particularism would wield its influence in the musical domain just as in the literary one, crumbling the solid cultural foundations of the past century. But a new legendary era in the History of Music was in the making, a fundamental change emanating from the popular roots where it had just blossomed, in the fertile ground of the most forgotten counterpart of modern history, in the distant realms of "blue notes" alleviating the servile toil of black slaves in America. Thus, the first rudimentary forms of Blues and Gospel were born, and with them, the modern song, the short composition based on the refrain and repetition. Thus, the course of Music changed.

The twentieth century was standing by, waiting for something to happen, for some event to spread the innovations of "black" singing across the globe, for music to evolve toward new forms of composition, listening, and fruition. Thus, right in the early years of the century, the blend between new European trends and the blues song substrate of African communities gave rise to the first great musical transformations of the new course: on the stage of a spiritually and culturally renewed America, jazz was born. And with it, George Gershwin.

Of Russian origin but an American by adoption, Gershwin was the first great disseminator of the Afro-American word, of the rudimentary blues that had just encountered the orchestral improvisations of New Orleans, and the syncopated jazz that was spreading as a new musical entertainment genre in the United States. Gershwin was the first to "dress" jazz. Through classical music.

The year is 1924, when, at only 26 years old, George hands over to Paul Whiteman his most enlightening work, that "Rhapsody In Blue" that drew prolonged applause from the guests of New York's Aeolian Hall, that symphonic poem which in its form does not hide the due tribute to Afro-American "blue notes" and in its content masterfully blends jazz improvisation at the piano and the symphonic setup of the orchestra. An ecstatic performance, perfectly balanced between melody and digression, pianissimo and fortissimo, rhythmic stasis and wandering. In it, jazz lives and shines with its own light, it feeds on the symphonic trends of the nineteenth century to insert itself into them and gives rise to a new musical course suspended between popular song and scholarly improvisation: hidden within are the first offshoots of modern music.

To this latter, Gershwin would give a definitive form through hundreds of short songs inspired by jazz and blues: "Oh, Lady, Be Good!", "Summertime" and "I Got Rhythm" are just a few splendid examples. These compositions would stand as exemplary versions of the Russian's symphonic art, as small pearls of a vast production that in the "long composition" would once again showcase its best. Such is the case with the splendid suite of "An American In Paris", inspired by a trip to France made by George in 1928, a delightful symphonic poem that, adapting the "blue notes" to a more amused context, places itself on the same level as the "Rhapsody" in terms of musical depth and clarity. This vein aligns with the filler music for the great musicals of Fred Astaire from the '30s: not coincidentally, Gershwin would soon move to Hollywood to work on musical scores, just as Minnelli's tribute to "An American In Paris" twenty years later, through the eponymous film featuring Gene Kelly and Leslie Caron, would be no coincidence.

Even traditional concert forms find their niche for the purest jazz, in Gershwin's magnificent performances of the famous "Concerto in F Minor For Piano And Orchestra", where the three movements "Allegro," "Andante con moto," "Andante agitato" echo the best Impressionist resonances of Debussy and Ravel, through a melodic interpretation that makes sound a personal image, which through jazz improvisation confirms its sporadic and subjective value. In concert, jazz gives voice to its primordial instinct.

There are many more pieces in his exceptional musical production, truly remarkable for just 38 years of life: Preludes, Overtures, Waltzes, Operas. Many arrows in the quiver of one of the greatest musical geniuses of the 1900s, one of the first great architects of the transition from classical to popular music.

The twentieth century awakened in him. It was a splendid windy day.


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