I went to the Warped Tour for the first time the summer before my freshman year of college. Because I hadn't yet begun to live in Berkeley, most things about the concert were pretty overwhelming, and I ended the day with a third-degree burn on my forehead from standing too long in the sun. When I revisited the Warped Tour last Saturday, I was surprised to find that the tour (or perhaps my solar tolerance) had changed.

There were seven stages, a lot of bands and scads of attendees, but the whole spectacle was a lot more manageable. The most "rock 'n' roll" moment I sat through was when a young lead singer stepped up to his mic and yelled, in what I imagine was supposed to be an irreverent transition, "Yeah, I have herpes!" I guess it's better his adolescent idol worshippers found that out sooner rather than later-but would a real rock star have given them fair warning?

I don't know if the Warped Tour has gone soft, but it's definitely found religion. Let me explain why I'm writing about this in my column. When the pilgrims got off the Mayflower, the only thing of contemporary relevance they brought with them, aside from a particularly virulent strain of smallpox, was Presbyterian Puritanism. Thus, Christianity is the quintessential Thing of Import, a far-reaching movement that found a home in the U.S. but started somewhere else.

Now, if rock 'n' roll is "the devil's music," it would make sense for religion to stay as far away from it as possible. Religion is, however, very close to the Warped Tour's heart; Christian music is determinedly, righteously, awesomely present there, and both Relient K and Norma Jean played the main stage.

Matt Thiessen, the tall, kindly frontman of Relient K, met guitarist Matt Hoopes in church when they were in second grade. When I asked him if his faith informed his music, he told me, "Yeah. I mean, it affects my entire life ... using that and changing it into music and stuff is really cool and probably the most important thing we've done as a band."

Mr. Thiessen was very honest about the relationship between his convictions and his creative products. This was something I appreciated, because the Christian rock movement has birthed another, equally incongruous phenomenon-the Christian musician who claims his religion is defining but irrelevant. I asked Cory Brandan, Georgia metalcore outfit Norma Jean's vocalist, the same question I'd asked Matt Thiessen about the connection between his creed and his art. Brandan told me that there was none, aside from his choice of subject matter.

"Sound can't have a belief," he told me, "I can't clap my hands and have you tell me whether it's evil or good or Christian or not."

That's true, Mr. Brandan, but I get the impression that metalcore is a little more than the clapping of hands-though tour founder Kevin Lyman would probably disagree.

"I never realize they're Christian when I'm booking them a lot of the time," he says, "I really don't look at that. I look at good music that can win an audience." And the audience draw is what a concert tour is all about. Lyman adds that, on Warped Tour, "there'll be a Bible Study sign and there'll be a poker game going on next door … it's a utopia in a parking lot." But Mr. Lyman's asphalt paradise boils down to commercialism, the reason for the mainstream manageability of the tour itself.

Or, as Mr. Thiessen put it, "If you work at Pizza Hut it doesn't matter who comes in and buys your pizza."

Tags: THINGS OF IMPORT