Statements like that seething from the lips of a tattered, tortured and poetic young woman in the 1970s hit the eardrums with powerful resonance, especially in this part of the world. How could a largely atheist country not fall in love with such a bold statement?

Thirty-odd years later, the question is: Will Patti Smith's once-brazen and forthright persona be tempered and tame with the onset of parenthood, personal loss (her brother Todd and husband Fred Smith) and Christianity? She no longer performs "Gloria" and lately has been known to remind audiences that J.C. died for everyone's sins — including hers.

Once they get the hang of it, it's easy for fans to allow an artist to repent. However, when it comes to the music, they may not be quite so forgiving. Touring behind her recent release Trampin', Smith has garnered predictably glowing reviews with familiar words like haunting, political and organic. But to more critical ears, the music has mellowed, although the statement still has a sharp bite — not unlike an excellent Bordeaux that wasn't corked properly.

A large portion of Trampin' was reportedly recorded live, with only a few songs remixed with studio tracks. The arrangements, co-composed with longtime collaborators Lenny Kaye and Jay Dee Daugherty, are strong, yet at times woo the listener into a laid-back, even lazy frame of mind. (Czech guitarist Ivan Kral, no longer in Smith's band, is sorely missed.)

When Patti actually sings as opposed to speaking strongly, the effect is completely different. There is a romantic and sentimental intention behind these choices, as if to let the intended lyrical concepts seep in the aural canal with the almost blatantly banal melody. The few songs that the band really picks up a pulse on truly deliver, as in "Radio Baghdad" (a remake of "Radio Ethiopia"). Here, the musical composition provides a perfect platform for her to espouse her dogma. And then it finally happens: From the back of a borrowed demon's throat, Patti growls and schizophrenically groans about the obvious yet deplorable state of present world affairs. Apparently her fire of ire has not fully faded, though this would be something best witnessed in the flesh.

Nor has the enthusiasm ebbed among Smith's fan base in Europe. Earlier this month, French Culture Minister Renaud Donnedie de Vabres deemed Smith "one of most influential artists of women's rock 'n' roll" as he ham-handedly bestowed the performance poetess with the Commandeur of the Order of Arts and Letters — the highest honor of the order, previously given to the likes of William Burroughs and Susan Sontag.

In Prague, the literary, artistic and musical communities are in a quiet tizzy over the imminent performance of their "misplaced Joan of Arc." In fact, the only way to get a ticket to her concert at this point is on the street. "We've been sold out for over a week," a disbelieving young Archa Theater staff member says.

Právo music journalist Alex Švamberk explains the attraction this way: "People saw her as a great artist like Lou Reed or John Cale, Iggy Pop or the MC5," he says. "She rocks, but she is also intellectual. People felt a connection between punk, new wave and Patti."