Elena Passarello’s essay collection, Let Me Clear My Throat, isn’t explicitly about the DJ Kool track that shares a similar name, but it resonates with the same raw, visceral energy. While the iconic “Let Me Clear My Throat” song is a direct call to attention, a sonic boom demanding listeners to get ready for something impactful, Passarello’s book achieves a similar effect through the power of the written word, dissecting and celebrating the multifaceted nature of the human voice. Just as a DJ might sample and manipulate vocal sounds to create a compelling rhythm, Passarello masterfully weaves together history, science, and pop culture to explore the voice in its myriad forms, revealing its profound influence on how we perceive the world.
The initial reaction to Paul McCartney’s 2012 Olympic performance, as noted in the original article, highlights a critical aspect of the voice: its evolution and vulnerability. While McCartney’s legendary status is undeniable, the performance subtly underscored that even iconic voices change over time. This sets the stage perfectly for understanding Passarello’s exploration in Let Me Clear My Throat. The book delves beyond mere vocal talent, venturing into the very essence of what the human voice represents – its capacity to elevate, to destroy, to define eras, and to become deeply intertwined with personal and collective identities.
Passarello, an actor and writer, approaches the voice as both a performer and an analyst. This dual perspective allows her to dissect the instrument with both artistic sensitivity and intellectual rigor. She doesn’t just focus on singing; instead, she broadens the scope to encompass the voice in its entirety, from the operatic heights of Farinelli to the devastating C note that allegedly felled Enrico Caruso. The book investigates how a voice, even a single, ill-timed shout, like Howard Dean’s infamous scream, can dramatically alter public perception and even political trajectories. Through interviews with a diverse cast of vocal professionals – singers, actors, auctioneers, politicians, and even an Elvis impersonator – Passarello paints a rich tapestry of vocal experiences, demonstrating how voices shape realities for both speakers and listeners.
One of the standout essays, “Double Joy: Myron Cope and the Pittsburgh Sound,” exemplifies Passarello’s unique approach. Here, she delves into the distinctive Pittsburgh dialect, a linguistic melting pot born from industrial-era immigration. She uses the late Pittsburgh Steelers broadcaster Myron Cope as a focal point, arguing that his appeal wasn’t rooted in conventional vocal beauty but in a joyful, almost raucous energy. Cope’s voice, with its “ripped-to-shit phoneme” delivery, became a sonic emblem of a working-class Pittsburgh that was fading away, a nostalgic reminder of the city’s industrial past in its post-industrial present. Passarello’s writing throughout the book is characterized by this kind of sharp, insightful analysis, often punctuated by unexpected bursts of informal language, mirroring the very spontaneity and range of the human voice itself.
While some essays, like the exploration of crows in popular music (“And Your Bird Can Sing”), might seem lighter in tone, they are consistently anchored by Passarello’s engaging and intelligent voice as a writer. She guides the reader through seemingly disparate topics with the warmth and wit of a knowledgeable friend, seamlessly blending journalistic investigation with academic depth. Her writing is marked by meticulous research and a willingness to explore diverse subjects, from cinema history to the cultural significance of the “rebel yell.” Passarello’s strength lies in her ability to make complex topics accessible and fascinating, much like a captivating professor who draws students into their subject matter. Her description of Frank Sinatra’s “weary pain” as a “Beau Brummel pain” is a perfect example of her talent for concise, evocative metaphor.
In “The Soprano,” Passarello recounts a Russian vocal coach’s simple yet profound lesson: “My dear, the voice is like a small dog. Sometimes is good dog, sometimes is bad dog. That is all.” This encapsulates the unpredictable and sometimes uncontrollable nature of the voice, challenging the American ideal of constant self-improvement. The essay further explores this theme through the lens of Judy Garland’s legendary 1961 Carnegie Hall performance. Passarello portrays Garland’s voice that night as possessing a “disturbing emotional vertigo,” a raw and unfiltered expression of a life lived on the edge. Garland’s voice, even in its vulnerability and pain, remained a source of perfect artistic expression, a stark contrast to the physical and emotional turmoil of her life. The poignant image of Garland’s voice box placed beside her body in the autopsy highlights the almost separate existence of the voice, its power and perfection sometimes detached from the physical being.
Ultimately, Let Me Clear My Throat is a powerful debut that announces Elena Passarello as a significant voice in contemporary essay writing. Echoing Henry Miller’s sentiment about embracing life with awareness and joy, Passarello’s writing, while not flawless, is marked by a genuine enthusiasm and a wide-ranging curiosity that is both infectious and intellectually stimulating. Just as the “Let Me Clear My Throat” song uses vocal samples to create a dynamic and memorable experience, Passarello uses her writing to sample and explore the vast landscape of the human voice, creating a book that is both informative and deeply engaging. For anyone fascinated by the power of vocal expression, and indeed, the power of communication itself, Let Me Clear My Throat is a compelling and rewarding read.
