Judy Collins, Dirty Ed McCurdy, rabbit holes, and deep thoughts

Ed McCurdy and his best known song

I am turning 71 Sunday. Last night (Thursday, although it will be Saturday by the time I hit “Publish) I treated myself to a concert — a Judy Collins concert. So this piece is partly my own little private review of the concert, even though (sorry, Judy) I illustrated it with a photo of another musician, and a deceased one at that.

I had to wear both hearing aids and glasses to this concert or I would not have been able to hear or see much of anything. In fact I probably would not have survived the short drive to the film theater where it took place without my glasses. Such are the ravages of old age. But Judy Collins herself is 84, so why am I complaining? She is very proud of her ability, at 84, to still hit the upper ranges of coloratura soprano voice (and so she should be) and I feel that she arranges her songs to sort of spare her energy for these soaring peaks where she is showing off a bit for the crowds.

This photo is not from the concert I attended but she had the same haircut, dress, and twelve-string guitar. Her only accompaniment was a man on a grand piano, whose first name I caught, but then forgot.

(I should mention here, that apart from being 98% deaf, I have not attended that many concerts in my life, so take that into account if you’re going to give too much credence to my opinions, and having no musical training and scant…