It’s been awhile since I’ve written a little editorial. I think the last time I wrote something that wasn’t a news piece or an album review, the snow was still falling and everyone in Chicago was miserable. Now that the sun’s burning from five in the morning ’til about nine o’ clock at night, everyone’s smiling and it’s time I get my mind brewing with some ideas. Sigh, what a burden, huh?

I’m a modest guy. Furthermore, I give credit where credit’s due. This piece came to mind a couple of hours ago, when the death of George Carlin really hit me. He was without a doubt my favorite stand up comic of all time. I, along with fellow staff writer Jay Ziegler, followed his new acts on HBO each and every two years or so. There’s something troubling, or confusing though. I don’t know why I never saw him live. Maybe I was too busy spending money elsewhere (Springsteen certainly didn’t help) or maybe I never had the time, but it stings now… it’s a regret that I’ll have ’til death.

Then, like a smooth stone skipping across a calm pond (how poetic), I drifted on this concept and thought about a few other artists or acts that I regret not taking the time (or the money) to see. The list goes on and on, most of them were far beyond my time, but a good many were still around when I was hitching rides from my cousin to shows here and there. With that being said, I decided to concoct a little list that puts some of these past artists in the spotlight again. These are the ones I’ve adored for quite some time, yet never had the chance to see. Thanks again, George.

Elliott Smith

Without a doubt, my greatest regret. To this day, “No Name #3″ stands near the top of a list that includes what I consider to be music’s most beautifully arranged songs. His voice, the fragility and honesty, that seemed massaged by the light acoustic guitar work was both heartbreaking and endearing. I’ve never been so emotionally empowered by music than with Smith’s songwriting. In Roman Candle, X/O, and even his post-mortem record From A Basement on the Hill, everything hits different areas of the heart, and it’s the only time where I’ll welcome the depressive, angsty feeling of wanting to be alone, of wanting to stare into nothingness for hours on end. I was working on a research paper when he died in October of 2003, but a part of me shattered then. I can only imagine what it would have been like to observe the lonesome artist in a small club, at an in store performance, etc. With some sense of adventure, I could have seen him live, but I never did, and unfortunately, I never will.

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Alice in Chains

I know what you’re thinking: “Hey, you could see these guys for thirty bucks and an El ride out to the Riviera.” No, it’s just not the same. When I put in Cameron Crowe’s Singles, inarguably one of my favorite films of all time, there’s this wonder and awe in the stage presence of Layne Staley. Behind the sunglasses and under the pseudo-dreadlocks, the rattled frontman shimmied across the stage like no other. No offense to William Duvall, he sounds great with Cantrell & Co. and I’m glad they’re making music again, but it isn’t and won’t be the same. Maybe it’s because I’m usually a frontman in a band, but I consider the vocalist to be a key part of a musicial unit. He or she is a designer and leader of intricate circuitry that makes up a band, and to see that replaced… it’s just not the same. That being said, there’s always a knife in my side when I open the Music Box and listen in on “Ain’t Like That” or “Them Bones” and hear that infamous drawl. When Staley died in 2002, it never really hit me much, but looking back, I had so many chances to see them and I never did.

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Joe Strummer

Much like The Doors, the works and music of The Clash is something one gets into during their mid to late teenage years. It usually starts with London Calling, or “London Calling”, and scales back or forward. For most “punk rockers”, the band’s acclaimed self titled debut is where “it’s at.” Most of the time, everyone remarks on the band’s evolution and experimentation, how they went from a balls to the wall garage rock band into a well manicured, well read “only band that mattered.” Exceptional instrumentation aside, it was Strummer’s melodic voice that had me keen on The Clash. That’s probably the reason it was so easy to get into his solo stuff, especially with The Mescaleros. Along with our publisher, Alex Young, Ziegler and I ultimately regret never having seen this legend on stage or even with our own two eyes. His stage presence is one of the reasons why my guitar is nearly axed in half as it rests in my room and why I’ll always do a lil’ dance in between songs. His death in 2002 put an end to many possibilities, including the widely anticipated reunion of, well, the band we all came to know and love. The name Strummer and the idea of regret are pretty synonymous in my book. Fortunately to calm my nerves, I can’t really recall a time that I had a chance to see him. Boo-urns.

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I tried to keep this “list” short and sweet to let you (the readers) chime in on some ultimate misses that you can remember. This is probably a topic that’s worn out many tables at several in-city coffee shops, but lucky for us, we only have to comment here.

Who do you regret not seeing?