JAZZ : Memories on the Golden Trail of ‘Star Dust’

Stardust, n : a vast multitude of various small stars mashed together in the night sky and suggestive of dust particles; a feeling or impression of romance, magic or ethereality.

“Stardust,” n : a musical show, opening next Sunday at the Wilshire Theatre, celebrating classic American standards--its title taken from the lyric by Mitchell Parish to Hoagy Carmichael’s melody.

That “Star Dust” is the most popular song of the 20th Century is scarcely arguable. It has lived through every decade from the ‘20s, starting as an obscure instrumental, growing slowly to fame in its vocal incarnation during the ‘30s, outlasting wars and musical revolutions, recorded by a thousand artists--vocally or instrumentally, with top sales honors going to Artie Shaw’s non-vocal version (estimated to have sold 15 million worldwide since 1940).

What was it about “Star Dust” that triggered its staggering impact? Why is it a standard performed to this day?

The song has a complex, confusing history. In the upcoming show it is accorded what has long been the regular treatment, as a slow, ethereal ballad, starting with the famous verse (“And now the purple dusk of twilight time . . . steals across the meadows of my heart . . .”) segueing into the nostalgic chorus (“ . . . When our love was new, and each kiss an inspiration” . . .).

It wasn’t meant that way. Hoagy Carmichael (1899-1981) composed it as a snappy, upbeat fox trot. It was strictly a fast instrumental when he recorded it himself as a pianist or leader on a series of early versions, starting in October, 1927.

“It really didn’t hit me when Hoagy played it for me,” recalls Mitchell Parish, now a sprightly, still-active nonagenarian. “It was just another swing tune. But then Victor Young wrote an arrangement for Isham Jones’ orchestra in the tempo it’s known by today. That was what inspired me to write the lyrics, and in 1931 the vocal versions began to come out.”

There was no particular breakthrough year, though Bing Crosby’s 1931 version was of great value in popularizing the lyrics, a reflection of Tin Pan Alley’s more romantic mood at a time when such ditties as “Piccolo Pete” and “Puttin’ on the Ritz” were typical of that era’s frivolous output.

Beyond question, Parish’s words and the conversion to ballad format set “Star Dust” on the road, though it was not an overnight hit. Like another non-smash hit, “Begin the Beguine,” it crept up to world-class renown on sheer simple memorability.

Nevertheless, once established, it gained separate strength as famous instrumentalists--Art Tatum, Fats Waller, Coleman Hawkins, Benny Goodman--found charm in its unusual structure. Unlike the typical A-A-B-A form, it had an A-B-A-C chorus, starting very basically on a minor cadenza that swooped down and up--built, as Artie Shaw has said, “very much like an improvised cornet solo by Bix Beiderbecke, who was Hoagy’s idol.”

Musicians also came to realize that “Star Dust” began with a verse that had its own identity. In 1961 Frank Sinatra recorded a version that simply took this verse as a song unto itself, omitting the chorus.

Along with all these virtues, another factor came into play that was totally unrelated to the forces that make hit songs today: As Parish points out, Walter Winchell, whose daily gossip column asserted tremendous power in the 1930s, fell in love with the song and quoted lines from it over the years.

Although, in the age of rap, literate lyrics might seem to be in minimal supply, there has never been a real shortage. After the time of Cole Porter and Irving Berlin came songwriters like Stephen Sondheim and such sensitive word-crafters as Alan and Marilyn Bergman. The recent title tune of Shirley Horn’s “Here’s to Life,” with words by Phyllis Molinary and music by Artie Butler, eloquently makes the case for continuing beauty in lyrics and melodies.

What would happen if Mitchell Parish were to take “Star Dust” to a publisher today as an unknown, unrecorded song?

“Well, they wouldn’t want to hurt my feelings,” he says, “so they’d just say it wouldn’t sell records, it’s too good for today’s market. They’d get rid of me with that kind of compliment.”

Fortunately Parish, at 91, refuses to accept those warped values. He believes that a class song, given the right exposure, will emerge from the pack. “Not that I don’t like to keep up with the times,” he adds. “Jerry Garcia of the Grateful Dead is a good friend of mine who appreciates the standards. He wants to write a few songs with me, so we might just do that.”

Whether or not that improbable collaboration comes about, it is unlikely that the work of the writer who gave us “Star Dust,” “Deep Purple,” “Sophisticated Lady,” “Moonlight Serenade,” “Sweet Lorraine” and about 700 more will be forgotten as long as the art of songwriting survives.

“Star Dust” copyright 1929 Mills Music Inc. Used by permission.