Chinese rock is a divisive issue among expat music lovers. Some land in China, see a live rock show and—shocked that the genre even exists here—place Chinese rock solidly in their musical blind spots, singing the praises of bands and musicians and refusing to hold any of it up to a critical light. Others dismiss Chinese rock as a juvenile attempt at copying the West. Both views hit the wrong note, as writer and musician Jonathan Campbell makes clear in his new book Red Rock: The Long Strange March of Chinese Rock & Roll.

Placed in historical context Chinese rock is fascinating for what it represents—it helped shape and was shaped by a generation of young Chinese looking for something more than officially sanctioned pop music and officially sanctioned lives. Red Rock provides that history, weaving the tale of Chinese rock music into a larger tapestry of social change and upheaval that will interest even those who couldn’t care less if ReTROS really does sound like Joy Division.

Campbell is uniquely qualified to write a book on Chinese rock. Not only did he hold it down on the drums for a number of Beijing bands, he is also a journalist who has written for a number of publications including The Globe and Mail. In Red Rock, he successfully meshes his insider access to the scene with a keen sense for narrative to produce a rollicking tale of the birth, growth and cultivation of Chinese rock. The journey starts from the rock obsession of former Defense Minister Lin Biao’s son “Tiger” Lin Liguo, one of the first in the country to have heard rock music, and goes through the reign of Chinese rock king Cui Jian. Finally, the book arrives at the present day, where the music scene has fractured into a wide variety of genres from reggae to ska to metal to electronic, with a festival industry that is ramping up each year and increasing international access and interest.

Campbell’s fascination with the yaogun (Chinese rocker) is evident, and his excitement is passed on to the reader. He opens the book with a scene from a recent MIDI Festival concert, where the band continued to play after the rain had chased away most of the crowd and killed the sound system. It’s this spirit of endurance in the face of obstacles that has kept rock in the PRC alive over the past three decades, and Campbell throws in great quiz night factoids about exactly how yaogun managed to keep the show going in China despite gaps in technology and access. One memorable method was cultivating collections of dakou, clipped CDs from the ’80s intended for the trash in the West that became prized possessions for yaogun’ers who were thirsty for any kind of new music, whether it was Bon Jovi or Karen Carpenter.

In China, context is key, and Red Rock does a good job or providing some. It’s a fun and informative read, and Campbell spends a satisfying amount of time analyzing what rock means to China and what it meant and continues to mean to the West. In comparing the two, he touches on larger cultural issues and changing viewpoints that will resonate with expats who may never set foot in China’s dive bars and live houses.

Red Rock: The Long, Strange March of Chinese Rock & Roll, RMB200, available at Garden Books