1:45 pm: After Mark’s testimony, I spend some time walking through the merch tents taking photos. When I talked with Matt from Anathallo a few weeks ago, he told me to check out the blatant consumerism of this subculture, and I must admit that it’s surprising—or at least it’s different from what I expected, based on what I’ve experienced at other festivals and in the DIY scene. Bands setup their merch typically at the back of the tent where they’re playing (the Main Stage has a separate merch tent for that evening’s performers), but many have taken up more permanent residence in one of the two large merch tents. Selling recorded music seems almost secondary to these groups; instead, they have tons of t-shirts and other wearables. Lots of small groups have managed to convince kids that the best way to support their ministry is to buy a t-shirt, so all week I’ve been seeing a lot of shirts from Free Hugs, To Write Love On Her Arms, and Abort73.com. Plenty of other groups sell shirts with Christian messages, and there’s no lack of individuals proclaiming their faith on their chests or backs—an especially annoying shirt that I see more than a few times reads “I am not ashamed to tell the world that I love Jesus,” and I can’t help but wonder how frequently those shirts are worn outside of Cornerstone. In other words, Cornerstone is a safe space to wear these slogans and shirts, where you’re surrounded by like-minded individuals, but what about when you’re back in the real world, not necessarily surrounded by Christians in your daily life? How do these messages translate to daily life? How does this particular brand of ethics via consumption work outside of Cornerstone? Are these young people consciously ministering to their peers, or is it just another t-shirt with a cool design?

I’m walking past the Tooth & Nail booth when one of the staffers announce that all CDs will only cost $3 for the next five minutes only, so I quickly buy the last Haste the Day CD and the new Underoath LP. I also end up buying a one-year subscription to both HM and Relevant magazines, chalking it up to research needs. I really have no clue just yet how important print magazines are to this scene, and my intuition is that they’re not very important, or at least not anymore, especially since CCM ceased publication in 2008, but at the very least they can clue me into some hyped bands and issues facing contemporary Christian subcultural youth. I get a sample issue of each magazine, planning to flip through them later.

2:00 pm: The Burial is playing again, this time at the Anchor Stage. I don’t yet know what the Anchor’s ministry actually is, and will look them up when I get a chance later at home. This set is a bit more rough than the previous set I saw, and David’s vocals are strangled, probably from singing/screaming every day this week. At one point of between-song banter, he mentions that he feels blessed to be performing at Cornerstone despite feeling like the performance itself isn’t up to par. At another point, he discusses the responsibility that brothers and sisters in Christ have to keep each other from sin, and that while he’s seen some amazing things at Cornerstone this year, he’s also seen a lot of flesh, bare skin, and immodest clothing and that as a community we would best be served by individually being more modest in our dress to not encourage lust. Specifically, he asks ladies to stay away from uncovered bikini tops, and asks the guys to avoid going shirtless. This moralese is a strange bit to hear from a metal vocalist at a summer music festival, although his “Stay Virgin” T-shirt is at least commensurate with this perspective.

After The Burial’s gig, I head back to my car to drop off the stuff I bought (CD, LP, magazines), and make a few calls before going for a walk around some of the outer reaches of the campgrounds. I circle the western edge of the midway, although I don’t go as far as the campsites near the western side gate, and take a leisurely stroll down the lake shore drive. There appear to be more permanent vacation houses over near the lake, complete with signs prohibiting parking and camping on those properties, and I’m wondering whether these are permanent campsites for the festival, JPUSA buildings, private residences unconnected with JPUSA or Cornerstone, or something else entirely. Later I learn that these are mostly vacation residences used when the campsite is rented out as a convention/retreat center, and that some are permanent campsites—apparently, for a while, JPUSA offered lifetime campsites to groups/fundraisers to raise funds, and these could be the fruition of those agreements. I relax at the beach a little bit—noting without irony the lack of modesty in some of the beachwear I see people wearing—before strolling down the Main St. of generator stages again

I spend Friday morning back at the dorms catching up on email (turns out there’s a lot) and typing up some brief notes and impressions—mostly reminders to myself of things not to forget when I sit down later and type up and flesh out my handwritten notes. I’ve been taking regular notes, but I’ve also been tossing around in my head this feeling that there are effectively two Cornerstone festival here this week. The first one—the mainstream one, to be blunt about it—is printed up in a nice schedule book with a colorful map: it’s the one scheduled by the organizers, with a lot of thought given to layout, set times, etc. The other Cornerstone festival—the fringe/peripheral/underground one—is the one that takes place in an improvised manner on the generator stages along the main road. You can spend all day just walking past these stages, seeing bands that just showed up to play someone’s impromptu stage without being booked, and never enter the fest proper for the ‘official’ sets.

By the time I finally get back to the festival on Friday, it’s already after noon, but I’m feeling like that’s just fine—there really isn’t anything for me to do in the mornings, other than check out another Bible study or worship service. I grab some coffee and walk around a little bit before sitting down and checking out the schedule to see what I want to do first. I see that there’s actually a Bible study with Cool Hand Luke over in the Jesus Village Tent scheduled to start at 1:00 pm, so I head over there to check it out. Cool Hand Luke’s another band that my sister Esther told me to check out if I can; all I really know about this band is that the lead singer (who also doubled as the drummer) was interviewed extensively for the Cornerstone documentary Why Should the Devil Have All the Good Music? I take a seat in the tent next to a friendly girl who ends up leaving halfway through the session. The lead singer comes out and introduces himself—Mark Nicks—before starting his discussion. His session is less a Bible study than it is a testimony with some personal insight into a particular Bible passage, and I actually find it really inspiring, informative, and introspective into how a specific musician is using his faith to continue charting a path through his life.

He starts with a passage that begins at Mark 11:12, in which Jesus curses a fig tree for not producing fruit outside of its season. He pages back to a passage that demonstrates that Jesus knew when fig season was, and asks what we can take from this passage? The message that Mark takes away is that God expects great things of people, regardless of whether or not they’re ready to be fruitful in the calling to which He’s brought them. After going through this passage, Mark steps back a little bit and goes into the testimony portion of his talk.

After finishing the last Cool Hand Luke tour, Mark needed a job. He has new priorities since getting married eleven months ago, and needs to be very mindful of the needs of a family as opposed to the needs of a single young man. He had had a remote job for Google that he attempted to keep while on tour, but the strict responsibilities didn’t allow as much flexibility as he needed and it ultimately didn’t work out. So when he arrived back in Nashville after the last tour, he started working through a temp agency at a corporate print shop. After being happy with his work there, albeit uninspired, he was eventually offered a full-time position (when they laid off a more senior staffer). It’s clear to him that he has to choose between taking this full-time position or finding another job. There are a lot of mixed emotions wrapped up in this decision, as taking this job would effectively mean the end of large-scale touring for the time being, a difficult thing to give up since music has been his ministry for eleven years. Another tension is the idea that taking the job would mean that he’s settling into a status quo normalcy, that he’s selling out DIY for the American dream. Anyone who’s seen him play and who’s talked to him knows that he’s “not a fan of the American dream,” Mark says: “I think it’s a lie.” The ultimate question for him, then, is how best to balance his ideals, responsibilities, and calling?

Okay, so on to his calling. Mark is inspired by the theological writings of John Piper, by the hyperrealist visual art of Salvador Dali, and by the contemporary composition of Philip Glass (second cousin of This American Life’s Ira Glass, for all you radio nerds). These are all great men with lots of education and discipline, and Mark feels that even though he’s inspired by their works and would like to follow in their footsteps, his lack of training precludes him from doing this at his age. He feels called to pursue additional music ministry, to work with his wife Brandy on incorporating art into ministry, and to start a church, but feels inadequate. At this stage, he looks to the Bible for answers to these conflicts, and comes across both the passage in Mark 11 discussed earlier and John 15:1, which carries a very DIY message. His ultimate insight is that maybe he doesn’t necessarily need substantial schooling or training to pursue ministry or art—God will provide him with the strength and wisdom he needs to bear fruit now. His first ministry is to his wife and family, ministering to their needs, and taking the full-time job doesn’t preclude him from pursuing additional ministry in the future. His pastor has counseled them perhaps God has sent this job so that he can have some stability in the short term to prepare for additional ministry. Mark is very humble about this, and when he talks at his gig later that night, he’s very emotional about this dramatic change and turning point in his life.

I should add that since seeing his testimony in July, I’ve spent substantial time with Mark and Brandy. They are two of the most down-to-earth, honest, sincere, and hospitable people I’ve met since starting this research project. If you want to learn more directly from Mark about his perspectives on his music and his ministry—or even if you’re just happy to read random ramblings about Batman and 90s’ era indie rock—check out his Tumblr.

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All photographs by Andrew Mall. Soundtracked by The Wedding’s “Last Stand,” off of Polarity (Brave New World, 2007).

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5:00 pm: I walk back to the patio that overlooks the Main Stage to grab some free spaghetti, only to find that the line is at least 45 minutes long. I settle in for a long wait, preferring to get some free food over dropping money over at the food court. I end up talking to the three friends from Muskegee, MI (two guys and a girl) in line behind me while I’m waiting. The two guys are in a band together named Audrey, and came to Cornerstone last year for the first time after wanting to come for a few years. They were close to convincing their parents to let them come the previous year, until their parents found out how much it was going to cost! This year is the girl’s first time at Cornerstone. Compared to this year, they had a worse experience last year due to the prevalence of metal bands and trendy fans; this year the whole festival is much more diverse, and in their opinion the Main Stage lineup is also a lot better. Cornerstone is different from other festivals they’ve been to (like Unity and Icthus) because it’s more diverse and more accepting of alternate experiences and perspectives—they appreciate the “positivity”—and they do plan on coming back in the future, as long as they can get off from work. Their own local scene died a while back and they don’t have much of a chance to hear bands they like on the radio: the older scenesters back home didn’t take the younger generation seriously, so there was really no one to sustain the scene as the older members started leaving the scene; there was rampant fighting for a while and the scene had a really bad reputation, but they’re slowly rebuilding it, with a lot of basement and church shows (and no fighting!). Faith really isn’t a big deal for these three, but they appreciate when others are honest about their faith (instead of putting on a façade for the Christian audience) and they’re not being preached to.

6:30 pm: I take some time to write up some more notes after enjoying my spaghetti, and then head over to the Main Stage for some of the bigger bands. I catch Project 86, but am not very impressed. Haste the Day, however, are pretty heavy, and the encourage some serious moshing and circle pit action. This is another band who talks about their faith during the between-song banter, and the singer mentions that they’re a Christian band, and they play music to glorify God, and that we should all learn to exhibit God’s love in our everyday interactions with people. There’s no preaching, no altar call, and they get right back to rocking after this brief interlude.

After Haste the Day’s set, I decide to head back to the midway—I’m hungry, and I want to be sure to get a seat for David Bazan’s set in the Gallery Tent. I get a vegetable wrap and eat it standing up—it’s been a long day!—and then buy a cup of coffee before heading over to Gallery. The previous band—Gasoline Heart—is finishing up, and there’s still plenty of seats available. I expect Bazan’s set to be pretty crowded, and when he finally takes the stage, I’m not disappointed—at one point I look back and see that not only are all the seats taken, but people are standing up outside the tent and behind the seats. David Bazan is definitely highly anticipated.

In between the two sets, however, I get to talking with the guy sitting next to me. He’s this totally friendly guy, a bit younger than me, named Matt. He recently relocated from Terra Haute, IN to Nashville after reprioritizing his life to focus on being less selfish and more in tune with his friends and community. This is his third Cornerstone, but he wasn’t here last year. This year he’s here with All The Day Holiday, and I mention that I really enjoyed their set. We talk about the profusion of heavy music throughout the set, relieved to have found some common ground with both ATDH and Bazan. He grew up listening to a lot of emo and Christian hardcore, and we have a few favorite bands in common, like The Get Up Kids. We also talk a little bit about Bazan, and he tells me the story of how Bazan went on a tirade against organized Christianity and closed-mindedness last time he performed Cornerstone, and this is the first time he’s been invited back in about four years or so. This story is hearsay, Matt promises, but it’s good nonetheless—Bazan has always been vocal about his criticism of organized religion and church, believing instead that faith ought to be more personal and less didactic. Matt and I exchange phone numbers before we part, since I tell him that I’m considering coming out to Nashville later this year. He tells me to call him if so.

10:00 pm: David Bazan plays morose singer/songwriter stuff, but he has a sense of humor about it. He plays a couple of Pedro the Lion songs, at least one cover (Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah”), some new stuff, and takes questions from the audience. I’ve seen him before, and this is standard procedure: he allows the audience to ask him practically anything they want, and answers as honestly as possible. After hearing Matt’s story about the last time Bazan was at Cornerstone, he seems a little reserved, perhaps less likely to say something that could be interpreted as being offensive. In interviews he’s discussed the Christian scene with disdain, but it’s pretty clear that he’s happy being here.

12:00 am: Flatfoot 56 is supposed to start playing at midnight, but the previous band runs a little long, so it takes a while for them to get setup. Camp Busted Guitar recommended that I come out to see Flatfoot, and it’s only as I’m standing there that I realize I’ve seen this band before—they’re Chicago South Side punks who play smaller venues in the city, and I actually brought one of my DePaul classes to a show of theirs at the Beat Kitchen two years ago. They didn’t strike me as particularly Christian at the time, and I’m interested in seeing them in this context. It turns out that the punk kids here truly love this band, love the mayhem they inspire, and the Underground Tent gets really hot, smelly, and dusty soon after they start playing. I stick around for a while, but I’m getting tired, and want to check out The Chariot before heading back to the dorms.

12:30 am: Okay, so I don’t really know what to make of The Chariot. Their sound is murky, muddy, dark, and rather hard for me to get a full sense of, but it’s along the lines of experimental hardcore. The band members are climbing along the lighting rigs, one of them is blowing fireballs out of his mouth, and it strikes me as rather dangerous and perhaps ill-fitting of Cornerstone. There is, however, a huge crowd here, and the first group of kids I spoke with earlier today told me to expect insanity at this set. I’m still not very sure what I make of them. Neither The Chariot nor Flatfoot 56 discuss their faith or reasons for being at Cornerstone while I’m watching them perform tonight. I’m getting pretty tired and head back to the dorms, my head spinning.

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11:00 am: I arrive at Cornerstone early enough on day 2 to catch the full Bible study lead by Todd of The Burial. He still looks pretty metal—shaved head, huge goatee, somewhat stocky—but he’s standing on the stage with his Bible and not with his guitar and bandmates. He looks rather vulnerable, actually, and maybe even a bit unsure of himself and his ability to lead the discussion. There’s a good-size crowd of people here, about four dozen, and I do see many of the red wristbands that I’m learning to associate with bands and their guests, so I think that many of his friends have come to hear him speak. He mentions that he feels a bit uncomfortable trying to impart wisdom in this format, but he feels that his divine appointment is evident through the people who have shown up to hear him speak. His narrative, while a bit rambling, has some pretty substantive points about one’s relationship to God and one’s responsibilities as a believer:

• God is calling on his followers to tear themselves and their hearts up in distress over the state of the world
• Let’s be honest with ourselves about our goals and God’s plan
• People tend to dwell more on God’s blessings than on his judgment—let’s use His impending judgment to work with our brothers and sisters in bringing each other further along in our faith
• Don’t be selfish but generous; seek God’s kingdom and will first, and everything else you need will be given to you according to His will
• Look for answers from God instead of making your own plans without first seeking His will
• Passive disapproval of others’ sins isn’t enough—we need to be active, and work towards providing answers to worldly problems
• There’s no gray area between glorifying God and not glorifying God—all lives and works are devoted to one purpose or the other, and we need to be absolutely clear with ourselves where we stand
• “If it’s not building up your spirit, then it’s no good. It’s wasted time.”
• Ultimately, we need to be completely honest and real not just with ourselves but with God

After the Bible study, I stick around a little bit to hear the female-fronted praise band for a few songs—this is a bit more soulful than you would hear in church, but it’s acoustic-driven, and nowhere near the aggression that heard from other bands throughout the week—before heading out for another walk. My goal today is to find a group to chat with, and I walk around one of the RV areas before heading out to Main St. I stop at the Chasing Canadia generator stage because the band (whose name I don’t catch) seems pretty decent, despite the amateur setup. I walk further down Main St., towards the beach and Main Stage, and pass a group of young adults that might want to chat. On my way back I just stop, ask them how they’re doing, tell them I’m doing a research project on Cornerstone, having never been here before, and do they want to chat?

Turns out that this group of young adults is totally cool. Half of the group is from Toronto, and the other half is from St. Louis—they met at the meWithoutYou record release show in Philadelphia a few weeks ago, and made plans to meet up at Cornerstone. While half of the group came to Cornerstone for the first time last year, this year they brought with them friends who hadn’t yet been. Those who were here last year spent a lot of time checking out new bands, and this year they’re taking it easier, enjoying the communal vibe and fellowship with each other. The like that Cornerstone is a huge, friendly community of people who all love music, just like them and their friends. Their faith is important to them, and it bothers them when they hear bands giving lip service to Christianity without it being an obvious focus of their lives—it’s pretty clear that some bands discuss their faith at Cornerstone only because it’s so expected here. Many of them still live with their parents, and are at a weird in-between stage in life where church youth group doesn’t have anything to offer them, but they feel awkward participating in church as adults, peers of their parents. Cornerstone provides a safe space where they’re surrounded by like-minded people who face similar challenges. Another thing they really like about Cornerstone is that it’s safe for non-Christians, because while faith is very visible, it’s not forced upon people—attendees can choose the degree to which they participate in faith initiatives (they mention the Bible study that I attended earlier in the morning as a case in point—”It’s there if you want it,” one of them says).

They’re pretty generous—the whole time we’re speaking, one of the guys is cooking some potatoes on a camp grill and passing it around, being sure to include me. I take out an unopened bag of trail mix and pass it around to everyone as well. A couple of girls walk up and give us invites to a free spaghetti dinner on the patio/basketball court overlooking the Main Stage this afternoon at 5pm. This weird dude walks up later to talk about how another group of campers is demonstrating the best way for Christians to disengage from the world: through converting their vehicle to run on vegetable oil and living an entirely self-sustaining lifestyle. Although his preachy demeanor could have been met with distaste, the group I’m sitting with listen to him respectfully. After he’s done, I expect his talk to inspire discussion among these kids, but they seem more interested in jumping in the lake and checking out some more bands. I thank them, snap a couple of pictures, and leave.

They’ve given me the names of a few bands to check out, one of whom is supposed to be performing right away on one of the generator stages, so I take a walk back up Main St. to see if I can find them. Turns out I can’t, or perhaps I already forgot the name, but I continue for a stroll to see what else is going on. I pass the first (and one of very few) female-fronted hardcore band I’ve seen here, performing at a rather amateur generator stage. Next I stop to catch my breath at a tent-covered generator stage where a synth-pop band is setting up. Their Nintendo beats and bounciness aren’t enough to hold my interest, however, so I decide to walk through the campsites again to find another group to chat with. This time I end up walking down a road that leads through the reserved group sites—most of these are youth and church groups, and the people I pass appear to be rather engaged with each other. I feel weird about interrupting their conversations and continue walking. Eventually I come to a fork where the lower road leads down to Main Stage and the upper road leads up to another RV site. There’s a campsite with another group of young people, and I decide to talk to them on my way back down—first I want to get a few pictures of Main Stage without anyone there. I take the upper road, find the patio where they will be serving free spaghetti later tonight, take a few pictures, and walk back down.

3:00 pm: I hail this second group—“Camp Busted Guitar”—and ask if they’d like to talk to me for my research project. Our conversation is less directed than the previous group’s—the dynamic is far more one of a group of friends hanging out with multiple conversations going on at any given moment; my questions just form one of many discussions. This group of friends is from all around Illinois, and not one single town. They camp in this location every year, introducing new friends to the experience, converging at Cornerstone where it feels like family, where people fully understand you. Most of them are between 18–23 years old, and while there are a couple of first-timers here, most of them have been coming for a while, some as long as 6 or 8 years. The long-timers originally came with their church youth group, but Cornerstone has since grown to feel like their home, their community, the best week of their year, certainly the best part of their summer. At least one member of this group—one of the older guys—enjoys the freedom to act up and be loud and roudy, a side of his personality that he can’t really indulge in at home. They’ve tried to explain to non-Cornerstone friends why it’s so special, but instead find it easier to bring newbies to the festival every year—and every time, every first-timer “gets it.” One thing that they note is that one’s first Cornerstone experience is always the best—upon repeated returns, it’s never better than the first time, when everything was new.

They come from all walks of life: they work at various jobs, go to school, one guy’s in the Army, another claims to be a vagabond. While some have been to other festivals—they mention Cave Fest and Warped Tour—but Cornerstone is always better, primarily because of the people and community: everyone is so friendly, it’s like having a 30,000-person family. They listen to a lot of punk, metal, and don’t limit themselves to Christian bands. In fact, they’re all irregular church-goers—one guy tells me that he’s all about DIY, has a problem with authority, and doesn’t enjoy being told what to do, and that while he does have his own moral code, it’s not dictated by any one church or religion; others’ life drama and laziness prohibit them from attending church regularly. That said, many of them grew up going to church, and appreciate and respect the bands that are passionate and honest about their faith. Like the previous group—and I can already tell that this is a common theme at Cornerstone—they can tell when bands are talking about faith just because it’s expected here. Many of them don’t really have an active local scene at home, and typically have to drive long distances for live music they are actually interested in. They appreciate the musical variety at Cornerstone, and how the community isn’t really insular—they talk a little bit about tearing down the walls between subcultures, and note that you can see preppies, jocks, goths, metalheads, punks, etc. all engaged in fellowship together.

4:00 pm: After chatting with Camp Busted Guitar for a while, I take a couple of pictures and thank them. They encourage me to stop by next year and ask more questions! I leave, walk down the road for a little bit and find a space to sit on the grass, eat some food, and complete my notes from the interview before I forget it all. I head down to Indoor/Encore 2 to see The Wedding, a band recommended by Relient K last night and by the first group I hung out with this afternoon. The tent is pretty crowded—a good sign—and I work my way around to the other side. This band is pretty awesome, super-tight metalcore with a great attitude. They’ve got a good performance going on, the music is really tight, melodic, muscular, and the audience is totally into it. I’m digging it a lot, and really want to check their recordings, but I don’t see a merch setup. I get some good pictures, they come out for an encore, and actually end with the signature riff from Black Sabbath’s “Ironman.” Seems pretty ballsy to me, since Sabbath is one of those bands that has been consistently pointed at by Christians who claim that aggressive rock is linked to Satanism.

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All photographs by Andrew Mall. Soundtracked by The Burial’s “Intro,” off of Age of Deceit (Sancrosanct, 2009).

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2:15pm: After checking out some more generator stages, I stroll down Main Street a bit further, and I see a huge crowd spilling out of the Indoor/Encore 1 Stage. My sister, a previous attendee, told me that if I see a huge crowd I should follow them, because they probably know something I don’t. I end up seeing my favorite band all day, All The Day Holiday, from Cincinnati OH—they’re already halfway through their set, and they’re actually pretty awesome. Live it’s a good blend of guitar-based, experimental indie rock—I write in my notebook that they sound like a cross between Explosions in the Sky and Death Cab for Cutie—and it’s a nice departure from the heavy bands I keep running into and passing by on the generator stages. More electronic elements come through on the record, and it’s pretty obvious that these guys have listened to a lot of Radiohead. There are a lot of people here—the tent is pretty massive, but there are at least 200–300 people here—and it looks and feels like a community, with everyone sincere in their support for the band. I really enjoy their set, and when they announce that they’re selling their new CD for only $5, I decide to search them out later in the merch tent and pick up a copy. It ends up being the first CD I buy at Cornerstone, and—significantly, as someone pretty devoted to vinyl—the first CD I’ve bought in two years.

3:30 pm: I end up back in the Sanctuary Tent, where the Day of Metal is in full swing, in time to catch The Burial. They’re easy to classify as metal/screamo, and their Myspace page classifies them as “Christian / metal / death metal,” which is semantically confusing, to say the least. This band isn’t as tight as The Overseer, but I get the sense that they have more passion for what they’re doing. They’re definitely not amateur, however, and the lead guitarist—a guy named Todd, I find out later—has some really good licks. The tent is mostly populated by metalheads, young and old alike. Today there’s also a small merch corner here specializing in Christian metal CDs and t-shirts, and the graphic design isn’t different at all from what I’ve seen outside of the Christian scene: gothic lettering, fantasy scenes, all black, and so on.

Near the end of the set, the band takes a break between songs to talk a little bit about their beliefs, and why they’re at Cornerstone. It’s mostly Todd speaking, and he’s reminding people to fight against letting the Devil inside (both individually and communally), to allow God to be a part of the festival experience, and to engage in conversation with and learn from each other. He quotes a Bible verse—“seek ye first the kingdom of God”—and also claims that this music, this fellowship, this gig, “this is our sanctuary, this is our worship.” It leaves me wondering how worshipful crushingly loud and aggressive metal can actually be—Christian metal this abrasive is a new experience for me—and what about the circle pit in here, is that also worship? The band then encourages the audience to get more physically engaged with the music: “Don’t worry about looking foolish while headbanging,” Todd says, “because the only one watching who matters is God, and He doesn’t care how you look.” The audience appears to be receptive to the music—it’s hard to escape when the volume can be physically felt—but what about the message? Like most death metal and grindcore, the lyrics are practically unintelligible, and were it not for the between-song preaching and witnessing, the nature of the band’s message as Christian would probably not be very clear at all. Nevertheless, I’m intrigued, and make a note to check out the Bible study they’re leading the next morning, and perhaps another set if I can. I wander around the merch tents afterwards, eat some more food, and follow the crowd out to the Main Stage.

5:45 pm: I don’t really know what to expect of the Main Stage, but I quickly see that it’s probably what I should have expected based on other festival experiences: a huge pro music festival stage with an extension that bisects the crowd, like I’ve seen at Lollapalooza, nestled at the bottom of a bowl like Alpine Valley. It’s got a huge video screen, pro sound tent with spotlights, multiple cameras (including a remote arm), a number of concession tents, and a merch tent. At the crest of the hill are another couple of concession tents. There are tons of people milling about the stage on foot, lots of people spread out in lawn chairs, behind the crowd, and many more on blankets sitting on the hillside. Oh, and golf carts—apparently the Main Stage is a sufficiently long distance from the campgrounds (maybe a half mile?) to prompt some people to drive their golf carts out here, and said golf carts are parked both inside the bowl at the bottom of an access road (which continues along behind the stage for load-in/out) and at the crest of the hill—some people even watch the show from inside the golf carts. It’s rather humorous.

As I walk up to the crest of the hill, I see a small group giving away food: they have a huge pot of tomato soup cooking, they’re making four grilled cheese sandwiches at a time over a camping grill, and just giving the food away. I’m one of many people taking them up on their generosity. The group cooking and serving the food is fairly young, likely late teens and early 20s, and I ask one of the guys why they’re doing this. He says that they’re part of a Bible study group from Quincy IL (only about one hour away) and they just decided to do something nice for everyone. He doesn’t go out of his way to witness or preach to me, and this is my first taste of unconditional Cornerstone generosity.

The first Main Stage band is Capital Lights, an unremarkable pop/rock group clearly enjoying themselves. I took no notes about their music, which means I was unimpressed, but I did note how they’re being explicit with their faith: the lead singer stops at one point, and says “I know this is a Christian festival, but not everyone knows what that means”—and apparently what it means is that the band has a “deeper purpose,” and that “each one of us is deeply in love with Jesus Christ.” He continues talking a little bit about what it means to have Jesus in your life, and ends by appealing to the audience: “If you’re here today and you don’t understand that [Jesus]…” then come talk to the band, talk to those around you, and find out what Christ means to those who have come to Cornerstone for fellowship.

6:30 pm: KJ-52 takes the stage. The “52” in his stage name comes from the parable of Jesus feeding the masses with five loaves of bread and two fish. This is bland white boy party rap, totally clean, inoffensive, and deadly boring. He does do a lot of crowd interaction, getting people to dance, throwing complementary souvenirs out, and convincing the crowd that they’ll end up on his video blog, but there isn’t much musical substance to back it up. I can’t really tell how this fits into Cornerstone, both musically—this is the only hip-hop I actually hear all week—and philosophically: he only mentions his faith in passing, and his music doesn’t really seem to be inspired by his faith, aside from staying away from potentially offensive language. Perhaps that’s all it takes—he’s okay because he’s clean?

8:00 pm: Red. Not much to say other than they’re bland hard rock, stuff you hear a million times a day on modern rock radio, without anything special. The highlight is a straightforward cover of Duran Duran’s “Ordinary World” (off of the 1993 eponymous “wedding album”), complete with a note-by-note solo. Inoffensive and utterly forgettable.

During set changes, which last a good 20–25 minutes, commercials are broadcast on the giant screen. Here’s a list of the commercials I remember:

• Nutrilite, some type of health supplement promoted by Amway.
• Compassion, an organization that allows you to sponsor a child, providing them with food, water, medication, clothing, education, and—this must be stated—religion.
• Green: Book Zero, a fantasy novel that concludes a series by Ted Dekker. I’m intrigued enough to google it later, but annoyed enough by the never-ending promotion that I don’t even bother reading the website to know what the book and series are about. The commercial references timeless series that present humanity’s ethical battles as fantasy, including both C.S. Lewis and Tolkein. I doubt Dekker is even remotely as good.
• The band Dekree. Based on the commercial alone, I easily predict I will absolutely hate this band.
• Buy your tickets for next year’s Cornerstone at the merch tent! Because the best souvenir is the one that brings you back next year. Guaranteed to get the best prices by purchasing at the fest.
• Also, check out Cornerstone online to relive some of your favorite moments through their carefully selected and screened photos and videos. Not once did I see someone who looked like a staff photographer or videographer in any of the tents and at any of the gigs I attended. Needless to say, they certainly didn’t appear at the generator stages. So, the documented Cornerstone, who’s festival is that one? Documentation—both formal and informal—provides yet another set of perspective streams to consider.
• HM magazine

10:30 pm: Throughout the evening, the changing size of the standing crowd down at the stage and the ratio of people walking down the hill vs. those walking up provide a good gauge on the relative popularity of the Main Stage bands. The last one of the night is definitely the most anticipated—although the Main Stage crowd clearly anticipated Relient K, my notes are minimal, which indicates that I wasn’t very into this band. I’m rather tired by this time of the evening, and the band didn’t really excite me. People around me talking about the band excitedly—Relient K haven’t played Cornerstone in a few years: last year they were on Warped Tour, and the year before their bus broke down (and apparently burst into flames?) on the way here. The band does talk about their faith a bit more than the other bands tonight. Their music is inoffensive pop-punk, just the type of safe stuff I would want my kids to listen to if I were a parent. I don’t know any of their songs or records, and make a note—I’ll be making a lot of these notes—to check them out when I get home. One thing that does charm me is their tribute to The Office, complete with a short original melody and then a cover of the theme song itself. “We wrote a love song to a television show,” lead singer Matthew gushes, “which I think everyone should do, at least five times in their life.”

Midnight: After the Relient K set, I walk back over to the Encore 2 stage to see Copeland on my sister’s recommendation. There’s a lot of buzz for the other band playing tonight, Austrian Death Machine, and later when I’m leaving they’re tent—it sounds absolutely brutal. My ears are already killing me, and my head’s hurting—I’ll end up taking some Advil for a headache in the morning—so sticking with Copeland was a good choice. It’s a lot mellower, emo/indie rock, and the audience seems content to chill out after the long first day of Cornerstone. I stick around for about forty minutes before deciding I need the sleep more than I need to hear the band. If I wasn’t alone, it might be a different story, and at the end of the first day I’m definitely regretting not having come with someone. I haven’t really spoken to anyone all day, and I make a resolution to have at least five conversations with strangers over the next couple of days. I drive back to the dorms and do my best to fall asleep, but it’s freezing—the air conditioning is on full-blast, and there’s apparently no way to turn it off. I sleep fitfully because of the chill (having only brought a single fleece blanket), but wake up refreshed and ready to attack Cornerstone for Day 2.

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1:30 pm: After eating through some of the food I brought and exploring the Cornerstone campsites a bit, I find my way to Main St., where all of the generator stages are located. The first one I walk past is rather professional-looking—I later find out it’s the Solace tent, organized by a music promoter based out of Joplin, Missouri—and the music sounds interesting, so I walk in to and catch the last half of The Overseer’s set. This band plays a really tight and melodic version of screamo, with dual vocals from the frontman (Anthony) and guitarist (Darren). The band’s sound reminds me of Jersey faves Thursday, and is much better than I expected. I’m not really sure what I expected, to be honest—everything I’ve read and talked about with others has prepared me for the fact that, by and large, these underground Christian bands are just as good (or just as bad) as their secular counterparts. Essentially, their faith doesn’t necessarily detract from the musicianship, technique, songwriting ability, etc., although the message itself may prove to be a distraction to listeners with different priorities. Nor does the faith message necessarily cover for poor musicianship—not once over the course of the festival do I get the feeling that fans cut bands slack just because their message is positive. If anything, the fans are even more demanding than at other concerts or festivals—after all, there are literally dozens of bands every day for attendees to watch. That said, this band is blisteringly good, they put on a great show—especially given the constraints of the tiny stage—the sound is good in the tent, there are a few kids slam dancing, and everyone seems to be having a good time. At the end of the show, they ask people to come hang out and talk with them afterwards (and they seem really sincere about it!), mention a couple other sets they have lined up at Cornerstone, and quickly pack up their gear—the next band is scheduled to go on in 10–15 minutes.

Okay, so here’s the deal with the generator stages, based on what I observed, read on the Cornerstone website, and heard from attendees. Cornerstone Festival itself books several music tents and the Main Stage, presenting up to 5 or 6 musical acts at any given moment. For a number of years this was just fine, but apparently there was a big hunger for more bands. I don’t know whether or not this demand came from the fans or the bands—it was probably a mix of the two, and the distinction doesn’t even really matter any more—but at some point, people realized that they could bring a generator, plug in a PA system and a few amps, and play throughout the campsites. This went on unregulated for a while, until it got a little out of hand and Cornerstone was forced to bring it in check.

The way it works now: anyone who wants to setup a generator stage officially arranges it with Cornerstone. They apply for a free permit, pay a fee if merch will be sold, and book one of the (presumably limited) generator stage spots. These stages range the gamut of professionalism, from an amateur bunch of kids playing on the grass with only the microphone running through the PA to a full professional production, complete with tent, stage, live sound console, and full miking. The bands range the gamut of professionalism as well, although in terms of style, there are almost uniformly heavy—I hear lots of punk, hardcore, metalcore, metal, screamo, etc. while strolling the drag. Practically all of the generator stages are along Main Street, and you can walk down that road and hear a dozen different bands playing at once. According to the Cornerstone website, 31 generator stages had pre-registered for the 2009 festival.

The stages usually have a whiteboard with that day’s performance schedule written up, which they change daily. Some bands come to Cornerstone not having any performance time yet booked, and quickly network with generator stages to get one, two, or more gigs over the course of the week. These bands are rabid self-promoters, too: they drive around in golf carts with bullhorns, they hang up flyers literally everywhere (including papering the porto-johns), they walk around with handmade signs announcing their next gig, they network with other bands, they pass out flyers and handbills, they offer free food or drinks (the band following The Overseer at Solace promised free Gatorade, but I didn’t stick around to confirm), they get their friends to run PR for them, and so on. It all feels very spur-of-the-moment, and promotes the serendipitous discovery of music, far from the structured schedules and official set times of other festivals.

The generator stages actually start hosting bands before the official Cornerstone schedule starts—they can start as early as noon on Monday, while the Cornerstone schedule doesn’t kickoff until Wednesday. During Cornerstone, Wednesday through Saturday, the generator stages have to end by 6:00 pm, presumably so as not to conflict with the Main Stage and other higher-profile evening acts. The sheer number and quality of the generator stages is such that you could spend all day, everyday listening to bands without once stepping into an official Cornerstone tent. With the generator stages and the fellowship I experienced and observed in the campsites, I definitely got a sense that there’s not one but two Cornerstones—the official one run by JPUSA and festival staff, and the community-run one that appears and grows organically, sustained by festival attendees with no (or very little) profit motive (the generator stages can’t charge admission, though some charge bands a small fee to play, especially if they’re allowed to sell merch).

Anyway, after The Overseer, I spend some time walking down Main St. and checking out the various generator stages. I’ve honestly never heard of any of these bands, but I get the impression that very few people have heard of the bands playing the generator stages—these are not well-known acts but young bands with local audiences. Later in the festival, I hear bands discuss their history with Cornerstone—many of them start out playing generator stages their first few times at the festival, but eventually graduate to the official stages after spending time building up their audience. I ultimately wander into one of the official stages—the Label Showcase/Encore 2 Stage—and a band called Take the Sky are playing, but I’m not really impressed.

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Although Cornerstone Festival is open for camping on Monday, and the Generator Stages can start their showcases on Monday also, the first official day of festival programming is Wednesday, July 1. I’ve just driven in from Chicago the day before, and spent the evening quelling anxiety about attending the festival for the first time, and alone at that. I’m feeling better in the morning after a fitful night of sleep. I shower, get dressed, pack my old messenger bag full of food and water, and navigate the local rural roads from Macomb over to Cornerstone farm, outside of Bushnell IL.

I arrive slightly before 11:00 am, and instead of locating the day parking right away, I immediately take a wrong term and drive down the campsite main road for a spell, becoming increasingly embarrassed. After parking I walk down the main road and buy a desperately-needed large coffee from a food vendor who apparently specializes in breakfast—they’re closed later in the afternoon/evening, though I later see some of the same people working the vegetarian food vendor tent at the festival’s midway. I decide to explore a little bit and get a feel for how the festival is laid out, as the map in the official program doesn’t really help all that much.

11:00 am: Instead, I immediately walk into a Bible study at the Impromptu Stage led by Adam, the lead singer of As Bound With Them. He’s focusing on Ephesians 2, considering the Bible as a gospel of redemption, and charging Christians with the responsibility of keeping their brothers and sisters from sin. Faith without action isn’t very much faith at all, he says. In James 5:19–20, we read that believers are responsible for the faith and steadfastness of others, and that we can all be redeemed. After the Bible study concludes, Adam mentions that friends of his in The Burial will be playing later that afternoon and leading the Bible study tomorrow morning; I make a mental note to check them out.

Around noon, I leave the Impromptu Stage and head to the Anchor Stage next door, where I watch a couple of songs by a band who’s name I don’t catch. Whoever they are, they’re playing rather polished acoustic emo/singer-songwriter stuff, but I’m not terribly impressed. I later find out that the Anchor Stage is organized and run by The Anchor Fellowship, a Nashville church that I end up visiting when in town in December. After the band finishes, I walk through the two huge merchandise tents, which appear to be populated mostly by record labels and t-shirt companies. I see tons of CDs for sale, including discount catalog CCM CDs, but very little vinyl—I wonder if vinyl is a trend that hasn’t yet found its way into the Christian rock community? After walking through the merch tents, I explore the midway, locate the Gallery Stage, seminar tents, and food vendors. The midway houses a series of volleyball courts, which prove to be popular later in the afternoon. I also see the Cornerstone market where campers can buy perishables, and see the press tent (which doubles as the Grrr Records Stage) where they appear to be serving a free lunch to those in the know.

As I’m walking down the midway, taking everything in, some art-school-looking dude asks me to answer a question on-camera for the Cornerstone website. I stand there while he adjusts his camera, and then he asks “What is jupusa?” I repeat the question, and it takes me a couple of beats to formulate a soundbite about Jesus People USA, the Chicago-based Christian collective who organizes Cornerstone every year (this is year 26!). He looks extremely disappointed, as if he expected me to not know much about the details and the ministry behind the festival. Perhaps he’s hoping to stump everyone that walks by, or at least every young-looking person?

I’m hungry and haven’t yet eaten any of the food I packed for the day, so I sit down at the tables in the Gallery Stage to eat and write some notes. I end up sitting right next to the first ever Cornerstone Tweetup, which apparently is a big deal to those attending, and feel somewhat out of place. I haven’t talked to anyone, since leaving home almost 24 hours earlier, and I’m surrounded by people chatting as if they’ve known each other forever! I enjoy the calm for a little bit—there are fewer people in this tent then there are milling around outside, and it’s relaxing to catch my breath, eat an apple and granola bar, and formulate a plan for the rest of the day. I decide to start exploring the campsites a little bit, and then see what these Generator Stages are all about. I’ve already spent a decent amount of time exploring, and I figure if I can get a good feel for how the festival is laid out today, and see a few bands to get a feel for both the musical styles represented and the types of audience members, I can focus tomorrow on meeting people and talking to them about their experiences.

I walk behind the Impromptu, Sanctuary, and Anchor tents towards the campsite. There’s a road here that goes through a hilly area, and this is really my first exposure to see what most people are doing this week as far as accommodations are concerned. Over here, campsites typically consist of a large tent or ring of tents, a common area ringed by camp chairs for cooking and gathering, some cooking equipment, and is bounded by the campers’ cars parked on the grass. I’m actually surprised to see all of these cars—I thought that people would setup their campsites and then park their cars elsewhere, but that is not the case. Later I read through the Cornerstone rules/FAQs more carefully and see that cars parked at campsites shouldn’t be driven around the festival, but only for loading in and loading out—those campers who need to frequently leave Cornerstone via car are supposed to park their vehicles in the day parking lot where I parked this morning.

The more elaborate campsites have some type of covering for the common area (open-sided tent, tarp, collection of large patio/beach umbrellas, etc.), tables, recreation equipment (mostly sports equipment, but I also see the wooden bases you need to play bags and a ping-pong table), old furniture (I honestly see a few couches and easy chairs that have obviously seen better days), and so on. I see laundry and cookware hanging out to dry. Less elaborate campsites may just have a single-person tent or lean-to against a car with no cooking equipment—these are people who are probably here mostly for the music and eating all of their meals at the midway, while the larger sites probably belong to youth groups, families, or large groups of friends who are really into the whole camping experience in addition to the music festival aspect. There are also RV sites elsewhere, and with electrical and water hookups they tend to be really elaborate. Sometimes the vehicles are arranged in a way that they provide a degree of privacy to the campsite, but that is not the norm—most campsites face their road, and people seem to be coming and going rather frequently (especially at the sites that are obviously for larger groups).

The road I’m walking along is also the location for Cornerstone’s Burning Brush art series. Here’s the description taken from the website: “This year’s Burning Brush will focus on our outdoor Art Pilgrimage. Our theme is the Parables of Jesus Christ. Come see how these talented artists portray the parables in many different mediums. Take a Pilgrimage Art Walk/Critique with art expert Nancy Hughes, Wed.-Fri. 10 a.m. Meet at Speaker Hospitality.” It’s a nice set-up, and some of the works are pretty good, but right now—and over the course of the rest of the week—as I walk down this path (or “Pilgrimage”) I don’t notice anyone paying attention at all to the artworks, reading the placards, etc. For the most part, people seem to be one of two extremes: either hurrying to get somewhere quickly before the next band starts playing, or relaxing at the campsites completely unhurried.

I’m realizing that as I’m describing my movement through this mini, temporary city, the geography doesn’t translate well to prose. Part of it is my unfamiliarity with the space, and part of it is simply due to my confused sense of direction. I’m used to the grid of the Chicago landscape reinforcing my sense of cardinal direction, and I just don’t have that here. The official map is oriented at a 180º rotation, with north on the bottom—that’s another contributing factor to my skewed directional sense. And of course, not everything is on this map—the road that I walk down behind the Impromptu, Sanctuary, and Anchor tents, through Burning Brush, is not marked on the official map, and neither are many of the informal roads that weave through the campsites.

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Before even arriving at Cornerstone Festival 2009, I had already given some thought to my goals. I was most interested in learning about what it is that makes the festival and the music here special to attendees. What do they get out of it? How does it function in their lives? How do they relate their faith to their musical taste? Clearly these are big questions, and I took some time to break them down into smaller, more manageable things to ask people as I explored the festival and campsite in the coming days. But, having never been before—and attending alone, at that—meant that I was really unsure of how to actually find people who might be willing to answer these questions. I could have the best questions in the world, but I needed to actually talk to people (in addition to observing them) in order for this to work. The prospect of talking to strangers cold made me really anxious—public speaking and teaching experience notwithstanding, I’m still painfully shy in unfamiliar circumstances. My youngest sister, who had been to Cornerstone before, suggested I just make a point of talking to whomever I can. She said that Cornerstone attendees are super-friendly and willing to share and talk to just about anyone interested and interesting.

I did know ahead of time that I was primarily interested in talking to attendees and audience members, and less interested in speaking with musicians and organizers. With the musicians, I know that I can get contact info for many of these bands elsewhere, and work on getting in touch with them through other channels after the festival, as long as I’m clear about asking them to discuss Cornerstone. Before I arrived at Cornerstone, I also wasn’t really all that familiar with most of these bands. That’s all changed now, of course: not only did I see tons of bands at Cornerstone, but I did end up talking to some audience members about which bands are important in their lives, and I’ve since checked out a lot of recordings and a few other Christian rock concerts.

At the time, I had already given some thought about how I might get in touch with some Cornerstone organizers after the festival ended. Cornerstone Festival is operated by Jesus People U.S.A. I also need to take a close look at their marketing materials to get a better overview of the festival from an “official” perspective. After all, if this place bills itself as a Christian music and arts festival, I do need to have a handle on their P.R. and advertising. Perhaps when I return next year, I’ll have a larger circle of contacts and and will be better placed to set up formal interviews with organizers, bands, mediators, etc. that will help me shed light from those perspectives. But this time out, like I said, I wanted to focus on the audience perspective and have the audience member experience.

I calmed down a bit on the drive. The unfolding highway was monotonous, Ira Glass and his contributors were very soothing—much better than putting my iPod on music shuffle—and I just let my mind wander. The last couple months had been incredibly busy: teaching and grading for two classes, writing up a single research project into three different public presentations, travelling for two conferences (one each in Minneapolis and San Diego), my youngest sister’s wedding (and all the family responsibilities that come with having a large number of relatives descend on a single weekend), travelling to Vermont with my fiancee to start planning our own wedding, trying to find a new roommate, and building a new radio station at CHIRP. The last couple months had been jam-packed with other responsibilities, and it was difficult to focus on this project—more difficult than I expected, actually—especially since I didn’t really even know what to expect. Honestly, that’s what made me anxious the most: not knowing what to expect! I’ve been to plenty of music festivals in Chicago to know what I like and dislike about them, but I’ve never travelled far for a festival, let alone been to a multi-day camping fest.

Everything was unfamiliar: the festival surroundings (with very little amenities for us urban cosmopolitans), the camping/dorm experience, the food situation (I’m used to cooking a lot for myself, or easy access to ethnic vegetarian foods), the music, and even the attendees themselves. One thing I was wondering while I was driving was whether or not I was passing others headed to Cornerstone. I saw a few cars that appeared to be headed on summer vacations with camping gear and bikes, and it struck me as odd that people would be leaving on a Tuesday for vacation—wouldn’t you leave on a weekend, unless you had a weird work schedule?—but I had no way of telling. In Chicago it’s pretty easy to pick out the out-of-towners and locals alike headed to Pitchfork and Lollapalooza when those festivals are going on, but I just didn’t really yet know what types of people to expect at Cornerstone.

Well, regardless of my anxiety, I’m interested in talking to festival attendees about their experiences. Writing up these notes the evening before the first official day of Cornerstone was partly a coping mechanism for this anxiety of the unfamiliar—I’m sure that after getting the lay of the land in the morning, the anxiety will mostly be a thing of the past. Instead, I can look forward to enjoying hearing some new music, meeting people excited about these bands, and finding folks who want to share their thoughts, experiences, impressions, and camaraderie.

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