Roadshow

I’ll admit, I approached *Roadshow* skeptical that a book about *touring*—a subject that often veers into cliché—could hold my attention for nearly 16 hours. But Peart, ever the outsider even in his own band, flips the script. This isn’t a chronology of Rush’s hits or a name-dropping fest; it’s a diary of a man who treated the road like a monastic retreat. His descriptions of the ‘gearhead ballet’ of load-ins or the eerie stillness of an empty arena at dawn are so vivid, I found myself pausing to rewrite my own travel memories in my head. Sutherland’s performance is a standout—he doesn’t *act* so much as *channels*, letting Peart’s dry wit and occasional melancholy breathe. His delivery during the ‘Overtime’ interludes (Peart’s fictionalized alter-ego’s rants) is particularly brilliant, walking the line between satire and confession. That said, the audiobook isn’t without its stumbles. Peart’s digressions into motorcycle maintenance or the logistics of tour catering will test the patience of listeners hunting for juicy rock lore. And while Sutherland’s voice is rich, his reading of Peart’s more abstract passages occasionally lacks the poetic punch they deserve—like hearing a great drum fill played on a practice pad. Still, the payoff comes in the cumulative effect: by the final chapter, you’ll feel the weight of those miles, the way Peart does. It’s not a book about fame; it’s about the strange, beautiful grind of a life spent in motion. If you’ve ever romanticized the road—or needed to reconcile its romance with its reality—this is your audiobook.