God bless the girl who posted this. It’s 14 minutes long, but it’s sooooo worth it. It’s from the concert we saw a couple of weekends ago.
Incidentally, that wobbly note toward the beginning of “Deportee” settled a debate. Ron thought she was Auto-Tuned because there was a slight echo in the mic. I was appalled by the very idea. I hate electronic pitch correction with every fiber of my being, for the same reason I hate performance-enhancing drugs and the designated hitter, and it would destroy my faith in humanity and probably cause a rip in the space-time continuum if Judy Collins cheated and used it.
“Judy Collins,” I assured Ron, “does not need #@$&!*% Auto-Tune.”
“I think she’s Auto-Tuned,” Ron insisted over the roar of the applause at the end of the song.
I glared at him. “No. This is not Cher. This is Judy Friggin’ Collins. I guaran-damn-tee you she is not Auto-Tuned.” (You can tell when I’m getting really wound up about something, because I speak in tmeses.)
And then she started singing again, and she missed that note, and I relaxed, safe in the knowledge that the space-time continuum would continue to operate unmolested for the time being.
Emily
Red Fork Hippie 