In the spirit of Elena Passarello's brilliant pop
cultural observations, I'd like us to consider the hype man.
In hip-hop, the hype man is a sort
of backup rapper, a secondary MC, a lyrical laborer of love.
The hype man's job is to keep the party live,
to accentuate the artist's work.
Some say the hype man starts with Creole and MC Cowboy
of the group Grandmaster Flash and the Furious
Five, Cowboy being the first to press an audience
to "throw your hands in the air," still a staple
at hip-hop shows.
The greatest hype man, and certainly the most well-known,
has to be Flavor Flav of Public Enemy.
Complimenting Chuck D's depth of voice and message
with high-pitched, enthusiastic interjections,
Flavor Flav brought the hype man to new heights.
And I know Passarello appreciates
this master of the form.
In the acknowledgments section of her first essay collection,
she calls Caroline Casey, quote, "The best hype man this side
of 'Terrordome'-era Flavor Flav."
The title of Passarello's first essay collection,
Let Me Clear My Throat, shares its name with the 1996 song
by DJ Kool.
In a way, the song "Let Me Clear My Throat"
is the epitome of the hype man.
The live recorded track is largely
composed of audience-amping antics
over slamming saxophone-infused beat.
And it's a perfect title for a collection of essays
about the human voice.
One of the many things I love about Passarello's work
is tracing these references.
It makes me feel welcome, like I'm
sitting with a friend sharing inside jokes
as she shows me things that fascinate her.
Perhaps we can even extend the hype man connection
to some of Passarello's essays, for example,
in "Communication Breakdown," where
she examines the infamous and possibly campaign-ending
Howard Dean scream of 2004.
"The 'b' and 'y' of Dean's scream," Passarello writes,
"are flat F in the fifth octave, the same lofty pitch Robert
Plant finds at minute 2:09 and 2:11
in 'Communication Breakdown.'" I like to imagine Howard Dean
as Led Zeppelin hype man, on stage in tight pants next
to Plant, joining voices for that raspy, "biyahhh!"
Thanks, guys.
Passarello's essay, "A Monstrous Little Voice with T. Foley,"
shows us a ventriloquist dummy named
Hector answering a questionnaire in an effort
to discover his voice.
But who is the hype man in that relationship--
the dummy or the handler?
In her new collection, Animals Strike Curious Poses,
a title referencing a line from "When Doves Cry"
by Prince, Passarello tells us about Mozart and his hype man,
the starling named Vogel Staar.
She writes of how the partnership began, quote,
"So what kind of murmur began that spring day in Vienna, when
a 28-year-old Mozart, jaunty in his garnet coat
and gold-rimmed cap, strolled into a shop
to whistle at a starling in a cage?
That bird must have zeroed in on Mozart's mouth
as the man whistled the 17-note opening
phrase from his recent piano concerto."
Passarello adds that, "No matter how the starling got the song,
on May 27, 1784, it spat that tune
right back at the tunesmith."
Perhaps like a hype man would.
All the essays in Passarello's modern bestiary,
Animals Strike Curious Poses, deal with the relationship
between animal and human, detailing
animals named by people dating back to 39,000 BP
with the mammoth Yuka, all the way to 2015 with Cecil
the lion.
With stirring description, vigorous research,
and illuminating musings, she guides us
through the lives, and often demises, of these animals,
ultimately allowing us to consider
our own post-industrialization relationship with animals.
As my time as this evening's hype man
ends, and we welcome Passarello up here,
I'll say that Passarello's writing entertains, enthralls,
and leaves me staring into the middle distance,
wondering what it means to have a voice or to be human.
She's a powerful writer and magnificent reader.
To borrow a phrase from the hip-hop legend Rakim,
Elena Passarello knows how to "move the crowd,"
and she knows how to move the crowd.
Let's bring the funk, bring the noise for Elena Passarello.
[APPLAUSE]