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The introduction traces American composers’ attempts to write and stage jazz-operas in the 1920s. By examining the motivations behind these efforts, it provides a historical framework for understanding the significance of opera and jazz in the United States during the period of conversion. This narrative is paired with details on the emergence of sound in Hollywood cinema, focusing on the negotiations made by studio engineers and executives to determine the function of the voice in the construction of national identity. It explains why the screen was a more amenable place for the combination of opera and jazz than the stage had been.

This chapter discusses Erich Korngold's Das Wunder der Heliane (1927) with Ernst Krenek's Jonny spielt auf (1927). Korngold's Heliane, his intended magnum opus and the other major event of Vienna's 1927–1928 season, was, like Jonny, a high-profile document of an “opera crisis.” Reasonably enough, the two works have been read as antithetical: what could a “jazz opera” featuring a blackface bandleader and a slapstick death by train have to do with a “timeless” morality play culminating in not one but two resurrections? In Heliane, Korngold set out to eclipse the Gustav Mahler of the Second and Eighth symphonies. Jonny, conversely, offered music seemingly determined to leave the feelings cold.

This chapter presents the text of an article about the success of the revival of George Gershwin's one-act jazz opera Blue Monday, which was published in the December 30, 1925, issue of the New York Times. The article describes the show as the most vivid grand opera ever provided from native and local materials by an American composer and lauds the performance of Paul Whiteman's Orchestra. It also notes that unlike its 1922 version, Blue Monday had become the main feature of the show.

Porgy and Bess, which could now be considered as much a “folk” as a “jazz” opera, occupied George Gershwin and Dubose Heyward for about two years, from the fall of 1933 to its Broadway premiere on October 10, 1935. The aspect of the novel Porgy that initially earned the most praise—its portrayal of Charleston's blacks—became over time its most controversial feature. Moreover, the main characters belong to a larger community that itself takes center stage, a group victimized within by substance abuse, violence, quackery, and superstition, and without by racism, injustice, and nature, yet still hopeful and inspiring in its compassion and faith. The work's use of popular dialects and musical idioms, and its congeniality to improvisation and varied vocal styles mark it a folk opera.

This chapter looks at Bley's most ambitious work to date: Escalator over the Hill (1971). Though the work is colloquially referred to as a “jazz opera,” its creators called it a “chronotransduction.” Widely considered Bley's greatest achievement, the musically unclassifiable Escalator over the Hill is an epic, somewhat impenetrable work of art, one that nourished Bley's proclivity toward musical boundary crossing and her genuinely collaborative nature. It was the first record released in her own name, and every aspect of this production belonged to Bley, from composing, arranging, playing, singing, and conducting to editing and mixing the tapes and preparing the master. Ultimately, the elaborate instrumentation of Escalator over the Hill reflects Bley's eclectic tastes, as well as the serendipity and haphazardness of her casting; having little money to pay performers, Bley notoriously drew in everyone she could, plus their relatives and roommates.

This chapter explores Ernst Krenek’s setting of John Donne’s poem, ‘The Flea’. Krenek’s work is an exuberant piece of twelve-tone writing, referring back, not without irony, to his Viennese heritage, and friendships with all the leading artists and intellectuals of the day. Here, there are some enjoyable glissandos covering broad spans. Rhythms may appear complex, but the plethora of quintuplets and other varied divisions of beats should, in fact, create a spontaneous, flexible impression to the listener. The vocal line proceeds in uninhibited, expressionistic fragments throughout, with the piano providing some startling dramatic interpolations. Extremes of dynamic abound. One suspects an element of affectionate parody, yet veering dangerously close to losing control.