Writing his book, one record at a time

Thirty-five years ago, a gangly 22-year-old named Declan MacManus quit his job in a London lipstick factory and adopted the stage name Elvis Costello. Stiff Records was about to release his debut LP, "My Aim Is True," and had signed him to a contract that could support his wife and young son. With the windfall, Costello bought back the copy of "A Hard Day's Night" that he'd pawned to afford the previous month's gas bill.

Costello has never been overly forthcoming about his personal life, so it might be surprising to hear that he divulged this humanizing anecdote, and many others, in one of the best rock-star memoirs of the past decade. His story is more music-oriented than Patti Smith's "Just Kids," less self-aggrandizing than Keith Richards' "Life," and more revealing than Bob Dylan's "Chronicles, Volume 1."

Unlike those books, Costello's memoir hasn't won any awards or appeared on any bestseller lists. The fact is, it doesn't even have a title or a publisher. But from 2001 to 2006, Costello wrote 17 long reflective essays to accompany Rhino Records' full reissue of his 1977-96 catalog. These reminiscences add up to more than 60,000 words -- longer than "The Great Gatsby" -- and they provide the only intimate firsthand look at one of the most written-about pop careers of all time.

But good luck finding them. After the Rhino reissue series, Universal Music bought the rights to Costello's first decade of recordings and reissued them yet again, essay-free, under their Hip-O Select label. Rhino has since stopped releasing even the other '80s and '90s records that included Costello's writings; if you want to own them now, you'll have to find used copies or pay anywhere from $30 to $80 for new ones.

You'd think Costello, who owns the rights to the essays, would be keen to publish them for a broader audience. After all, musician memoirs have become big business. Books by Eric Clapton, Gil Scott-Heron, Jay-Z and Bob Mould have been covered as cultural events, just as Neil Young's "Waging Heavy Peace" promises to be when it arrives this fall.

Chronicling his evolution

The memoir-in-CD-booklets engagingly chronicle Costello's evolution from cantankerous young man to irrepressible middle-aged gadfly and collaborator. Now 57, he has become an improbable ambassador for big-band jazz, New Orleans funk, American roots and Gershwin-indebted orchestral music, to name only a few styles he's indulged. But the liner notes remind the reader that Costello's tastes and ambitions extended beyond rock from the beginning. Remembering the songwriting process for "My Aim Is True," he recalls the mix of influences he stirred into one of his best songs:

Costello pays heed to the required arc of the rock star memoir, though the limited space prevents wallowing in backstage excesses. "I surrendered to temptation, committed selfish acts of betrayal, and destroyed any possibility of trust and reconciliation in my marriage," he admits of his heavy-touring days following 1979's "Armed Forces."

"I was as normal as any young idiot suddenly thrust into the charts and onto the cover of periodicals while being spoken about with exaggerated awe." But he avoids self-pity, writing, "If I seemed a little self-absorbed at the time, then I have to say that much duller songs have been written on the subject."

His 'blue period'

Amid the pill-popping and excessive drinking, Costello found solace in relatively "duller" styles than his own vengeful proto-New Wave. In 1981, he released a country covers album, "Almost Blue." In the essay for that album, Costello explains that his first couple years as a pop star had been so personally and professionally exhausting that he craved a break from his own head.

"I had developed the notion that I might better express my feelings through other people's words and music," he writes. "Country ballads suited my blue mood most of all."

"All This Useless Beauty" (1996), his last record with his rampaging band the Attractions, is a mature and ruminative album, full of songs that Costello had written either for or with other artists.

"None of these lyrics contained any anger toward the characters," he writes, "only disappointment that they had settled for so little. I could just as easily have been talking to myself."