GEORGE GERSHWIN is an extremely fortunate young man. At the age of thirty he finds himself in the position to which the average successful composer is rarely ever able to attain under the age of forty or fifty. Having at a very early age achieved a solid success in the field of musical comedy he finds himself financially able to turn his attention to the study and composition of serious music, and this in an age when the aspirant in the latter field must either have independent means or give up the game.

At the moment, this brilliant young man in addition to several musical comedy scores, has to his credit three man-sized compositions in the more austere realm of serious music, the “Rhapsody in Blue,” introduced to New York by Paul Whiteman in 1923, a Concerto for piano and orchestra, played by the New York Symphony Orchestra under the direction of Walter Damrosch in 1925, and “An American in Paris” which was given its premiere a few days ago in Carnegie Hall by the Philharmonic Symphony Society, Walter Damrosch leading the band.

It is the last-named work with which we are concerned at the moment. Mr. Gershwin wisely refrains from any attempt to classify the work under any of the more usual forms of musical nomenclature; calls it “An American in Paris” and lets it go at that. As a matter of fact “symphonic piece” would probably fill the bill.

Now while the practice of quoting to any great length the program notes supplied on such occasions is a most reprehensible habit, we find it quite impossible to resist reprinting parts of the amusing “blurb” furnished by Deems Taylor to elucidate the proceedings. According to Mr. Taylor:

George Gershwin

“You are to imagine an American, visiting Paris, swinging down the Champs Elysees on a mild sunny morning in May or June. . . . Our American’s ears being open, as well as his eyes, he notes with pleasure the sounds of the city. French taxicabs seem to amuse him particularly, a fact that the orchestra points out in a brief episode introducing four real Paris taxi horns (imported at great expense for the occasion).

“Having safely eluded the taxis, our American apparently passes the open door of a cafe, where if one is to believe the trombones, La Maxixe is still popular. Exhilarated by this reminder of the gay nineteen-hundreds he resumes his stroll through the medium of the second Walking-theme, which is announced by the clarinet in French with a strong American accent.”

After several other minor adventures this American winds up somewhere over on the Left Bank. “Indeed,” says Mr. Taylor, “the end of this section of the ably, albeit pleasantly, blurred, as to suggest that the American is on the terrasse of a café, exploring the mysteries of an Anise de Lozo.

“And now the orchestra introduces an unhallowed episode. Suffice it to say that a solo violin approaches our hero (in the soprano register) and addresses him in the most charming broken English ; and, his response being inaudible—or at least unintelligible— repeats the remark. This one-sided conversation continues for some little time.

“Of course, one hastens to add, it is possible that a grave injustice is being done to both author and protagonist, and if the behavior of the orchestra be any criterion, he has them very thoroughly.

“Just in the nick of time the compassionate orchestra rushes another theme to the rescue, two trumpets performing the ceremony of introduction. It is apparent that our hero must have met a compatriot; for this last theme is a noisy, cheerful, self-confident Charleston, without a drop of Gallic blood in its veins.

“For the moment Paris is no more; and a voluble, gusty, wise-cracking orchestra proceeds to demonstrate at some length that it’s always fair weather when two Americans get together, no matter where . . . . The blues return but mitigated . . . . the orchestra in a riotous finale, decides to make a night of it. It will be great to get home, but meanwhile, this is Paris.”

Now how on earth after an interpretation such as that, can any critic be expected to embark on the usual solemn analysis or discussion customary when a new work is presented for the first time. It’s out and out disarming. But let us try to be serious. Gershwin has written a delightful, clever and extremely amusing little work. To look for profundities where none are intended, or to cavil at resemblances here and there which narrowly graze being quotations, would be like reproaching Beatrice Lillie for not being a Duse.

The thematic material if not of startling originality (downright trite in one instance) is quite adequate and although not developed to any very great extent, is cleverly, even expertly, handled. The orchestration throughout is pungent, witty or sentimental as the situation demands.

While Deems Taylor’s narrative written to explain in detail the somewhat ribald adventures of this young scamp, is a great help in one way, we feel that it is not absolutely necessary. The music, given the title, is suggestive enough to swing its larky way along without further explanation.

Three themes termed “Walking- themes” are used in succession; then the sentimental episode (of which Mr. Taylor chooses to believe the worst) and last of all, following the “blues,” comes the triumphant Charleston, sweeping on to a grand smash at the end.

Source: Outlook, 2 January 1929