Ringing ears show changes in concerts

The first time I attended a concert, Elvis Presley was performing at Joe Albi Stadium. That was in the late ‘50s, when I was in junior high.

When I was in high school, I went to see some guy in the old Spokane Coliseum. I don’t remember his name, but one of the songs he sang was “Hit the Road, Jack.”

My date’s ex-boyfriend’s name was Jack, and I thought the song delightfully appropriate. As I recall, there was a lot of appreciative applause and a fair amount of female screaming at both these concerts, but the songs were good, I could understand the words, and my ears didn’t ring for days afterward.

This year for Christmas, I received a ticket to see country-western singer Toby Keith. I was excited about this because Toby Keith seems to share my conservative political views.

His recording, “I Love This Bar,” is right on the money.

Before Toby came out, a female vocalist came on stage wearing some really nice-fitting jeans and showing off a very young navel. There was a lot of appreciative noise from the audience, but I can honestly say she was so loud I understood only a few of the words she sang, and I didn’t recognize any of the tunes.

I did, however, clap my hands in appreciation of her navel.

The lady was on for maybe half an hour – what is called an “opening act.” They always have opening acts for really big-name artists.

Their purpose is to get the audience loosened up for the main event by giving them a chance to stand in a long line and buy 50-cent beers for $5. The second opening act this night was some guy who, I was told, was famous for singing about how his wife’s clothes came off when she drank tequila. I think I might have known her.

His name might possibly have been Joe, but it might also have been Orrin or Gustave. I couldn’t hear so well.

I was told afterward that he sang the wife-tequila song, but I don’t know when, as I couldn’t understand anything he said. Either the arena had developed the acoustics of your typical high school locker room, or the guy who controlled the volume thought he was in an 80,000-seat open-air stadium.

It was so loud the feedback garbled everything.

By the time this second opening act finished, most of the audience had at least three beers under their belts. Then, Toby Keith finally materialized on stage amid smoke, cannon fire, confetti and fireworks.

His appearance was preceded by a ridiculous, ear-splitting video in which he was doing all sorts of fantastic things with his Ford truck while he and his dog were pursued by aliens. The audience, many of whom were drunk and didn’t realize their eardrums had burst, screamed.

Up in section 121, I covered my ears. Then, it got loud.

I have always rated toothaches at the very top of the pain chart, with earaches a close second. This was both.

Something in my inner ear began vibrating wildly, and I was pretty sure if I opened my mouth, my fillings would fly like shrapnel into the mob.

Evidently, Toby was singing, but whatever he said was beat down by a thunderous, throbbing, voiceless cacophony of electric guitars and bass drums.

This wasn’t country-western music. It was just noise – the amplified screech of a train hitting the brakes and then plowing into a truck full of dynamite.

I survived by keeping my hands over my ears. I can honestly say I didn’t understand a single word Toby Keith said, sang or shouted.

At the end, there was more cannon fire, tons of confetti. There were dancing lights and fireworks.

As I left the Arena, I felt like an alien.

Everyone else seemed to have had a good time. Evidently I was the only one whose ears were ringing.

Obviously I was the only one who felt cheated

I also felt very old.