White kids rallied to rock groups in the past. The went to outdoor concerts, they went to planetariums where they could hang out with each other, listen to Pink Floyd and watch the light show. They held up cigarette lighters in stadiums as they swayed together, led by their favorite group onstage.

Today, it's evangelists who run the rock shows, sans rock stars. They watched their kids defect to rock and roll in the 60s and 70s, and the smart evangelists watched closely, to pick up the styles that attracted kids. Kids like to go to large stadiums and arenas where there are lots of other kids to hang out with. They like to see their favorite stars onstage, and when the stage is too far away, they like to see the stars projected onto a large screen. They like light shows. They like audience participation, as when rock stars yelled "Are you ready to rock, Cincinnatti?" and the audience roared "Yes!" and the stars then called on the audience to "put your hands together and sing along with me now."

The white rock stars of the past are gone, replaced by hip hop. And although there are lots of white kids who adore rap, it's not the same as when kids went to see rock stars and felt like they were part of the show, part of the act. So evangelists stepped in. They built huge arenas, they put large screens onstage, they got some fancy lighting and they exhort the crowd: "Are you ready to accept Jesus, Cincinnatti?"

White Christian Baby Boomers accepted Jesus when they had to move to the Sunbelt for jobs in the late 70s and 80s. If you wanted to have a social life in those towns, it was Jesus or nothing. The church was the center of life down there, but it wasn't the old church of hellfire and damnation. The church still had an evangelist in a suit and tie, but now his hair was a little shaggy, he wore some hip boots, he looked like the kind of guy who would go to a rock concert with you. He said he liked rock and roll, but rock and roll didn't have he was seeking. He wanted something better, something different. He strutted the stage like Mick Jagger, he pulled off his tie and loosened his collar as he became more exciting telling his story of personal redemption. And at the end he asked, "Can I get an amen? Put your hands together everyone, and let's hear it for JEEEEsus!"

That was where the Baby Boomers started to accept evangelical churches, instead of laughing at them. Gone was the porcine evangelist of the past, damning rock music and long hair and Communism under a tent. The new evangelist was here and he knew you were hip and he made Jesus hip, too. It was ok now for Baby Boomers to go to church, because they built a new church, a big church, a megachurch where sometimes three or four evangelists traded off, waving their hands in the air for Jesus, sweating like Roger Daltrey on the big screen behind the stage. Fuckin A!

Today's kids are studied by marketers for trends, and it's not just producers of consumer goods who conduct the testing, or who pay for the results. It's evangelical churches. They saw what a mistake the Old Guard made when it demonized rock and roll and peace and love and long hair. Keeping up with the latest trends is crucial to evangelicals, and with the gargantuan amounts of money they haul in every year, they market Christian rock stars, they put on massive shows for teenagers. They put up a tent, but instead of boring the kids to death with pleas that they love Jesus, they hire some of the best skateboarders around to show up and teach the kids how to have fun.. with Jesus thrown in at the end.

Karl Rove isn't the only conservative who saw the potential of marketing as a tool to create new trends in politics and religion, instead of waiting for new trends to form by themselves, like rock and roll did.

It's mainstream churches that seem as uncool to young people these days as the revival shows of the past seemed uncool to their Baby Boomer parents and grandparents. The rock opera "Tommy" was a lot more prescient than we thought. Except that kids aren't tearing down the new prophet yet. And with today's evangelicals aiming a constant stream of marketing strategies at them, they may never get around to saying "We're not gonna take it."