Gershwin’s An American in Paris was commissioned by Walter Damrosch, who also conducted the world premiere in Carnegie Hall. The date was December 13, 1928, and the orchestra was the newly amalgamated Philharmonic-Symphony Society of New York, to use its full, official title.
For this premiere, George Gershwin’s friend Deems Taylor wrote, in collaboration with Gershwin, a description which reads, in part, as follows:
While Mr.Gershwin has been heard to hope-and probably not in vain-that his new work can be absorbed and enjoyed as a piece of orchestral music, he admits that An American in Paris (which, oddly enough, was largely written in Paris) follows a fairly explicit story. What follows is based upon Mr.Gershwin’s own version of the succession of events, augmented by a few details supplied by the helpful commentator and—as yet—unrepudiated by the composer.
You are to imagine, then, 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 brief episodes introducing four real Paris taxi horns (imported at great expense for the occasion). Thes have a special theme allotted to them (the driver, possibly), which is announced by the strings whenever they appear in the score.
Having safely eluded the taxis, our American apparently passes the open door of a café where, if one is to believe the trombones, “La Maxixe” is still popular….. The American’s itinerary becomes somewhat obscured. It may be that he continues down the Champs Elysees; it may be that he has turned off—the composer retains an open mind on the subject…. Indeed, the end of this section of the work is couched in terms so unmistakably, albeit pleasantly, blurred, as to suggest that the American is one the Terrasee of a café exploring the mysteries of an Anise de Lozo
An 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-side 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 that the whole episode is simply a musical transition. The latter interpretation may well be true, for otherwise it is difficult to believe what ensues: our hero becomes homesick. He has the blues; and if the behavior of the orchestra be any criterion, he has them very thoroughly.
However, nostalgia is not a fatal disease nor, in this instance, of overlong duration. 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 American get together, no matter where….Paris isn’t such a bad place after all; as a matter of fact, it’s a grand place…and 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!..Edward Downes (From Program Note “New York Philharmoni Charity Concert in Bangkok)
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