Before the Oscar-winning screenwriter Cameron Crowe began working in the movie business, he was a music-journalism prodigy, securing a cover story for Rolling Stone at age 16 and becoming a contributing editor at the magazine. Years later, after piling up notable film credits including “Fast Times at Ridgemont High” and “Jerry Maguire,” Mr. Crowe documented his youthful adventures in “Almost Famous.”

It wouldn’t be surprising to see any of these popular flicks represented on Broadway, given the enduring appetite of audiences, and consequently producers, for such fare. Yet it stands to reason that “Almost Famous” would be the first to arrive, considering how centrally music — particularly classic rock, that manna for so many of the baby boomers and older Gen Xers who can afford theater tickets — figures into the story. 

To his credit, Mr. Crowe, who wrote the book and co-wrote the lyrics, did not take the lazy route of making “Almost Famous” a jukebox musical — not quite, anyway. While the score incorporates hits by Led Zeppelin, Elton John, Stevie Wonder, and the Allman Brothers — the band that was the subject of Mr. Crowe’s breakthrough article — most of the tunes are originals by co-lyricist Tom Kitt, who as a composer, orchestrator, and arranger has lent his theatrical and pop savvy to shows ranging from “Next to Normal” to Alanis Morissette’s “Jagged Little Pill.”

“Almost Famous” unfolds in 1973, and Messrs. Kitt and Crowe have dutifully provided songs, some catchy enough, that evoke the era. I even detected echoes of Mr. John’s “Rocket Man” and the Youngbloods’ earlier hit “Get Together,” from 1967, in a couple of ditties. 

Audiences aren’t going to flock to “Almost Famous” to hear new material, though, any more than they would attend a Rolling Stones concert for that purpose. Happily, the musical at least offers something more than nostalgia; at its best, it’s at once a satire of the rock music industry — and the press that covers it — and a valentine to the music itself, as well as to the fans who truly appreciate and sustain it. 

When we meet William Miller, the character based on Mr. Crowe — played here by Casey Likes, with the right mix of casual precocity and endearing awkwardness — he is 15 and starry-eyed, and about to land his first professional gig, courtesy of proto-punk icon Lester Bangs. The dean of disaffected rock critics, Bangs was at the time editor of Creem, an influential and edgier alternative to Rolling Stone, whose publisher Jann Wenner had fired Bangs for being too scathing in his commentary.

After grimly informing young William that rock & roll is over — “You got here just in time for the death rattle, the last gasp, the last grope” — Lester agrees to let the lad interview the band Black Sabbath, “and make Ozzy Osbourne answer for that unspeakable gruel he calls lyrics.” As played by a sublimely cranky Rob Colletti, Lester pops up in the musical’s funniest moments, an ironic angel hollering over William’s shoulder. “Don’t make friends with the rock stars,” he warns.

Being a teenager and a social outcast, William of course is bound to succumb to temptation. No sooner has the novice journalist been rebuffed by Black Sabbath’s handler than he’s falling in with a gaggle of groupies who direct him to members of the opening band, Stillwater. Although a group named Stillwater did flicker in the ’70s — on the same label and in the same Southern vein as the Allmans — this one is fictional, though obviously inspired by Mr. Crowe’s experiences, with a megalomaniacal frontman and a sensitive but self-absorbed lead guitarist.

When Rolling Stone gets word of William’s talent and sends him on the road with Stillwater, he bonds with the queen of the groupies and the guitarist’s sometime flame, who calls herself Penny Lane. Penny is played by rising star Solea Pfeiffer, making her Broadway debut after lending her glistening soprano to high-profile productions of “West Side Story,” “Evita,” and “Hamilton.”

If Penny’s folky ballads showcase little of the range and color of Ms. Pfeiffer’s voice, she projects all the sexiness and warmth the role requires, and manages a convincing platonic chemistry with Mr. Likes. As the guitarist, Chris Wood makes a sympathetic solipsist; other standouts include Drew Gehling’s goofy lead singer and Anika Larsen’s wry take on William’s helicopter mom, who gets her own number, “Elaine’s Lecture,” with the refrain: “Rock stars have kidnapped my son.” 

“Almost Famous” almost always works better with such winking gestures than it does with sappier ones. You’ll definitely want to stick around for the exuberant curtain call, an affirmation that rock music has definitely not taken its last gasp — not on Broadway, certainly.