The bumper on the car ahead of me blared, "Nuke Gay Whales for Jesus." The two cars beside me had Christian ichthuses and a third, the Darwin fish. I checked my pocket again to make sure I remembered the tickets — tickets I bought months ago. Now, as I inched along, it felt more like a parking lot than the road to Lilith.

When I finally got to the amphitheater, along with my contradictory fellow travelers, we were given better-than-usual treatment by security guards. No head-to-toe search for weapons and drugs at this event. The goth-look was noticeably absent, as were dog collars and chains. Few concert-goers had spiked or Koolaid-dyed hair. Clearly outnumbered by women — from babes in arms to seniors — there was a feeling of community and serenity in the amphitheater.

Unlike most of the concerts and albums I've reviewed — Marilyn Manson, Hole, R. Kelly and Cypress Hill, to name a few — Lilith promised talent and genuine entertainment. Recent CDs by Lilith's founder Sarah McLachlan, and regular participant Natalie Merchant contained little objectionable content.

Lilith Makes Her-story

Billed "A Celebration of Women in Music," Lilith has made music history in two short years. Before Lilith, traveling concerts like Lollapalooza were peopled with male artists and spearheaded by male promoters. But Lilith's "celebration" approach, created by folk-rock singer McLachlan, broke the mold. Headliners are women. Influential women. In fact, USA Weekend called McLachlan "the woman most likely to stand out when we look back at artists most important to '90s pop music." The audience is full of estrogen. And the fair's message, both expressed and implied, is feminism.

Most concert-goers agree the issues run deeper than the words of the songs coming from stage. Though they don't always agree on what those issues are. "It was almost like white supremacy, but this was female supremacy," said twenty- something Julie Caylor, a self-described fan of McLachlan and Natalie Merchant, recounting her experience at a July Lilith Fair event in Raleigh, N.C. "There was this big celebration of women which is fine, but I could have done without the male bashing." Of course, not everyone saw it that way. "I don't agree with male bashing," said a woman at the Denver Lilith. "I wouldn't be here if I thought it was that." Another chimed in, "It makes me appreciate women more. It doesn't make me depreciate a man."

In its contradiction, Lilith has created controversy.

Ideologies for Sale

The event is accompanied by a maze of booths — from hardcore feminist groups with liberal political agendas, to environmental causes. Among the items for sale were dresses and jewelry, anti-Christian bumper stickers, personal pocket goddesses and necklaces with two symbols for womanhood joined in symbolic lesbianism. For $60, patrons could purchase sculptures depicting two (sometimes three) women in various sexual poses. Pins proclaimed, "Girls Kick A--," "Born Again Pagan," "Use Condom Sense," and the not-so-tongue-in-cheek, "Sorry I missed church but I've been busy practicing witchcraft and becoming a lesbian" seemed to be popular with the crowd.

Lilith has become as, McLachlan calls it, "a viable commodity." Last year the event grossed $16.4 million, second-highest among 1997 concert series. Early predictions place the gross profits from this year's 57 events around $25 million. Similar results are expected in 1999.

To demonstrate they're not all about money, Lilith organizers boast that a dollar from each ticket purchased goes to charities. Cathy Brown of the Youth Division of American Life League is far from impressed. "Although some of the money raised goes to noble causes like the Breast Cancer Fund and Domestic Violence Shelters," Brown says, "it does not excuse the fact that they are promoting violence to women and children by donating to organizations that provide abortions."

In Denver, NOW (National Organization for Women) and Planned Parenthood volunteers passed out pro-abortion propaganda and signed up recruits. Noticeably absent were organizations representing a conservative view on sexuality. It's hard to miss the "safe sex" emphasis, even though it isn't explicitly endorsed from stage.

Between sets, two women wearing red Trojan T-shirts tossed samples of condoms from overflowing duffel bags to teen girls in the crowd. Trojan was the only corporation with two booths. Banners at the tables read, "Trojan condoms — pleasure and protection concert series — ask me for a free sample." Sadly, I watched many young girls take advantage of the offer, grabbing condoms and stuffing their pockets and purses.

Listen to the Music

Despite its commercial success, concert-goers still say Lilith isn't about money. Instead, for many women, Lilith redefines what it means to be female in the '90s. "They're amazing role models," said one of the girls I talked to. "They're strong, they have an attitude, they don't give a s--- what anyone thinks of them. They just go out there and do what they want to do."

"I just like the music and I can relate to it," said another, when I asked her why she came. And for most in the audience, music was the top draw. I can't blame them; the music was better than a lot of what tops the charts. For six hours, the strains of Lisa Loeb, Cowboy Junkies, Joan Osborne, Paula Cole, Natalie Merchant and Sarah McLachlan filled the air. Second- stage performer Neko Case did open her set saying, "This song is about killing your boyfriend because he leaves you for another woman. And then you kill her, too." Obscenities were few.

Still, I couldn't forget the substance of the headliners' albums. In "Feelin' Love," Paula Cole sings of being "horny" and fantasizes about being tied up for sex and modeling for the centerfold of a porn magazine. In "Someone Out There," the Cowboy Junkies refer to God as "that f---er up there." And Liz Phair, who has built her career on a message of perversity, sings of a casual meeting turned sexual in "Chopsticks": "I met him at a party, and he told me how to drive him home/He said he liked to do it backwards, and I said that's just fine with me/That way we can (expletive) and watch TV." The Indigo Girls (who weren't in Denver but appeared at other Fair events) flaunt their lesbianism in their most recent CD, Shaming of the Sun.

The Undercurrent

Although not officially billed a lesbian event, the gay community promotes Lilith as its own. On the "Lesbian Vacations" web site, you can order Lilith Fair vacation packages. In British Columbia, a gay pride contest promoted Lilith tickets as the grand prize.

At the Denver event, teen girls held hands. Women kissed their lovers on the lips. Masculine looking female couples stretched out on the lawn in gay pride T-shirts. And watching it all were hundreds of impressionable pre-teen girls in the audience.

So what's the Lilith/lesbian connection? "It totally has to do with the type of music, the aesthetics, the very spiritual nature of it.... It's much more spiritual," said one lesbian, holding hands with her lover.

Amy Tracy is a former lesbian. I asked her about the link between Lilith and lesbianism. She recalled how this kind of event reinforced her gay lifestyle, "From the lesbian side of things, you're in your element at events like Lilith. People are affirming who you are." But now she thinks differently, "Lilith sends the wrong message to today's women. Marilyn Manson type concerts are overtly evil, but I believe Satan uses Lilith as well because it comes across as light," Amy says. "But it glorifies self and celebrates womanhood based on an unhealthy pride where women are exalted without partnering with men. No matter what they claim, that's not good spirituality."