In the 1990s, a middle-aged, stuttering jazz pianist unexpectedly became the best-selling male artist in Europe, outselling even Michael Jackson. His name was John Paul Larkin. But the world knew him as Scatman John. John was a lifelong stutterer, a recovering addict, and a musician who spent decades playing jazz in obscurity. Then, in his fifties, he achieved sudden global fame in the alien genre of Eurodance - or house music, as it’s known in the US. His stutter made him a remarkable scat singer: the freezing of his spoken syllables translated into astonishing speed and precision when he sang. Fame arrived when he alchemized his stutter into a global hit, Scatman (Ski-Ba-Bop-Ba-Dop-Bop).‍

Ostensibly, this authorized biography tells the story of a man who turned what nearly destroyed him - his stutter - into the thing that set him free. But at its core, this is a book about shame, visibility, and the cost of hiding who you really are. Although Scatman John remains culturally visible today (his music has been streamed more than half a billion times and is all over the internet as memes), his life beyond the so-called “novelty hits” has never been fully told. Until now.

I knew John, and I was given access to his unpublished memoir fragments, private letters, and the inner circle of friends, family members, and musicians who knew him best. I traced his life from a deeply traumatic childhood through addiction, recovery, and finally, international fame. When John became “the Scatman,” it was not the gimmick people assumed, but the public culmination of a lifelong internal struggle, and a radical act of self-acceptance made visible.

As a stutterer myself, I want readers not simply to understand stuttering intellectually, but to feel what it is like to stutter. Stuttering is a neurological condition, not a psychological one, and stigma and misunderstanding remain widespread. The book argues that what the world labels a ’defect’ can become a source of strength, agency, and connection. John came to believe his stutter was not a problem to be solved, but a way of processing his creativity, spirituality, and belonging.

I hope readers approach this book with curiosity, not necessarily nostalgia for novelty ’90s pop songs, though that’s okay too! You don’t need to love that era, the music, or even Scatman John himself to recognize the human story underneath - about what happens when we stop running from ourselves, and from unhelpful labels society places on us.