“Why the [expletive deleted] do you want to re-read that [expletive deleted] book?” To be honest, it was a fair question. My brother’s basement library has enough books to rival a major league library. Choosing Bruce Thomas’ The Big Wheel was the equivalent of walking into a fine dining restaurant and asking for Hamburger Helper and I’ll take a Banana Pudding Pop for dessert, thank you.

I had decided to re-read several books related to life on the road in the world of music, including Sam Shepard’s Rolling Thunder Logbook, Larry Sloman’s On The Road With Bob Dylan, and, most precariously, Thomas’ The Big Wheel. Thomas, former bassist with Elvis Costello and the Attractions, is still an outcast in Planet Costello, and this book is allegedly a large part of the reason for this.

I first read this book when its second edition (a surefire and utterly distressing sign that there is indeed no justice in the publishing world) was published in 2003. To say I disliked it is being too mild; upon first reading, I couldn’t recall a less interesting, more pompous, and completely inane piece of writing (other than one of my own blogs). The insights into the touring life were the worst kind of pseudo-philosophical nonsense that a college kid might write after studying Sylvia Plath for a semester. Thomas was prone to massive fits of existential ponderings; the simple act of watching a lousy television show from his hotel room could plunge him (and the reader) into page after page of post-modern angst. He also came across as a snarky, sarcastic, bitter ex-musician (from a bassist, no less). Perhaps worst of all, he completely botched a reference to Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas.

A second reading hasn’t really changed these opinions. However, there is actually a decent amount of comedy in this book, if the reader can look past its many flaws and accept it as, at best, a grossly exaggerated account of life in the Attractions. For example, Thomas tells a humorous story about how he assists a friend in transporting “wellies” all over the English countryside. Of course, nothing goes according to plan; the van filled with wellies (which I’m told by a British friend are either shoes, jimmy hats, or Filipino hookers) breaks down, Thomas “borrows” a tire from a nearby car, cops intervene, and the harebrained scheme takes several days and results in no profit.