Oscar Levant Gets the Anthology He Deserves

Original 78 RPM packaging of Oscar Levant’s recording of “Rhapsody in Blue” (from Amazon.com)

At the end of last month, Sony Classical released an eight-CD anthology that covers all of the recordings for Columbia Records made by pianist Oscar Levant. One wonders what Levant would have thought of this had he lived to see the day. (He died of a heart attack on August 14, 1972. He was 65 years old at the time.) There is a good chance that he would have come up with a withering wisecrack about the title of the album: A Rhapsody in Blue; the extraordinary life of Oscar Levant. (The remaining text on the cover is “pianist, composer, author, comedian and Hollywood star; his complete piano recordings.”)

Long before Lenny Bruce introduced the concept of “sick humor,” Levant had mastered the art of mining humor from a dysfunctional lifestyle. His Wikipedia page includes a generous sampling of his one-liners, the most appropriate being “I only make jokes when I am feeling insecure.” Nevertheless, he was one of the most significant pianists of the twentieth century; and, while “box office draw” is never a fair metric, he could play to a larger audience than either Vladimir Horowitz or Arthur Rubinstein. Indeed, he was invited to play at the White House when Harry Truman was President. (Truman, himself, was an amateur pianist.) When hosting Levant as a guest on his television program, Jack Paar told the story that, during the limousine ride back to the hotel after his gala White House evening, Levant said to his wife, “Now we owe them a dinner!”

Levant’s reputation as a pianist had much to do with his interpretation of the music of George Gershwin. In Rhapsody in Blue, the fictionalized film biography of Gershwin, Levant played himself. He then topped that role by channeling Gershwin himself in the film An American in Paris. Gene Kelly may have been the star of that film, but Levant had a tour de force of his own. In an entr’acte between two of the film’s episodes, his character (a pianist, of course) dreams of playing the solo at the beginning of the third movement of Gershwin’s concerto (in F). This is given an almost complete account, during which the camera discloses that Levant is also the conductor and pretty much every member of the orchestra. We also see Levant the pianist taking a very formal bow, while a Levant in the audience is shouting “Bravo!”

What is important about the Sony release, however, is that the breadth of Levant’s repertoire extends far beyond Gershwin. Indeed, it is so diverse that each of the eight CDs has its own distinctive identity. As a result, I find myself in the unlikely position that the only way to do justice to this release is to consider each of the CDs one at a time. As might be guessed, the title of the first CD is Oscar Levant Plays Gershwin, and there is no better way to begin my account.

As might be expected, this CD includes both the piano concerto and “Rhapsody in Blue,” along with “Second Rhapsody” and the variations for piano and orchestra on the theme from Gershwin’s son “I Got Rhythm.” This makes the concerto the lengthiest selection, but it is probably also the most significant. As was recently observed, the concerto was first performed by the New York Symphony Orchestra on December 3, 1925 with Gershwin himself at the keyboard. However, it was not recorded for the first time until 1928. Pianist Roy Bargy performed with Paul Whiteman and his Concert Orchestra in an abridged arrangement made by Ferde Grofé. As a result, the first “real” (i.e. complete) recording had to wait until 1942, when Levant performed the concerto with Andre Kostelanetz conducting the orchestra of the Philharmonic Society of New York (which would subsequently merge with the New York Symphony Orchestra to form the New York Philharmonic).

These days, if Kostelanetz is remembered at all, it is for instrumental albums he made for Columbia that became the first wave of what would later be called “easy listening.” That reputation obscured the competence behind his dedication to bring recent works by living composers into the repertoire. In 1942 he was probably the best conductor around to introduce Gershwin’s concerto to the listening public, performing it the way Gershwin wrote it; and there could not have been a better choice for soloist than Levant. (Full disclosure: it was from the LP of that recording that I first really got to know Gershwin’s concerto.) To this day Levant’s reading can still be taken as a “gold standard;” and it is impossible to find fault with his on-the-ball engagements with Kostelanetz’ conducting.

This brings us to the two rhapsodies. Both of these are “original version” recordings, reminding the listener that both of these pieces went through revisions after their original composition. This is particularly significant where “Rhapsody in Blue” is concerned, because those purchasing the score will probably find themselves with a copy of the 1942 version published by New World Music Corporation, while New World first published the “original version” in 1924. Both of these versions were scored by Grofé, the earlier for Whiteman’s band and the later for full symphony orchestra. As a result, just about every recording made uses the 1942 version, which includes two extended passages (one of which involves solo piano work) that were added to the 1924 version.

However, the first complete recording of “Rhapsody in Blue” was made in 1935, prior to the 1942 version. This “original version” recording was made by pianist Jesús María Sanromá with Arthur Fielder conducting the Boston Pops Orchestra, a recording which is now available on a French reissue. Levant’s recording, made with Eugene Ormandy conducting the Philadelphia Orchestra, was made much later in 1945. Those who have become familiar with the many recordings of the 1942 version will undoubtedly recognize that passages are missing, but we now have the benefit of two recording by two different pianists of the score as Gershwin originally wrote it.

Morton Gould conducts the Morton Gould Orchestra in the performance of “Second Rhapsody,” as well as the “I Got Rhythm” variations. Both of these pieces tend to be relegated to the shadows behind the concerto and the “first” rhapsody. In both cases, however, Levant and Gould make it clear that these pieces should not be hiding behind the more familiar works. Both compositions rise to the same high spirits encountered in the energetic passages of the earlier works, and they definitely deserve more attention in the concert hall.