Joining in on the vocal side of things was a young member of the orchestra's singing group, the Rhythm Boys. Bing Crosby, whose instincts were always attuned to jazz, helped further the cause and the orchestra began mixing in more improvisation. At the forefront was Bix, who would soon spiral out of control and end up tragically, but never failed to dazzle audiences and his bandmates.
The music is a little different than what we're all used to from later jazz, but it's outstanding in its own way, with a life and vitality that's infectious. You can almost imagine the flappers dancing, accompanied by guys in fur coats who are giddy from guzzling bathtub gin.
While all of this was going on, Whiteman and his press agents worked to popularize a new nickname - the King of Jazz - and it stuck. (Although it's been disputed ever since.) He ended the decade by taking his orchestra to California, making a technicolor sound movie - one of the first - that was filled with Hollywood glitz, but is interesting to watch for the historic aspects of the music and the film itself.
Crosby - who loved to party - fit perfectly into the frenetic Hollywood lifestyle, and felt perfectly at home. He was soon finding spots in movies and became a star and a singing icon. Bix wasn't so fortunate. Talented but troubled, he died in 1931 at just age 28, but is still remembered for his unique style and talent.
During the depression, Whiteman struggled to keep his orchestra going and soon found that fans preferred the newer swing bands. He eventually retired from an active musical life and died in 1967. His musical reputation has undergone a certain amount of revisionist treatment after years of disparagement, and he's now given credit for introducing many new jazz stars and also for attempting to further the jazz movement.
From the album, Bix N Bing - with Paul Whiteman:
"There Ain't No Sweet Man That's Worth The Salt Of My Tears".
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