After having some success as a music writer and a McSweeney's cool kid, Kennedy tells how he became an unlikely marketing guy at a major record label and how he was always waiting to be exposed as the fraud he thought he was. (Been there--that's how I became a book publicist. Still waiting to get found out myself.) It's not an unlikable story but it seems to lack the punchlines Kennedy thinks he's putting out there. While reading Rock On, I kept waiting for the big laugh that I thought was just around the corner but was only occasionally rewarded with a sort of knowing chuckle. It does show the absurdities of working for a huge international record company but it lacked the fun I thought this book was going to be. Being a McSweeney's cool kid must be enough to get published and get blurbs and get signed to good houses like Algonquin but I still don't get it and I never have. So what does that tell you? Fans of McSweeney's will be rolling in the aisles over this one, and I will be surrendering my lunch money to them. History repeats.