It's probably horrible to admit this, but I'm looking for a new Elliott Smith. It is not possible for me to express how deeply I loved his music without making people laugh at me for being melodramatic. So I’ve repressed my sadness over his passing, my skepticism at the “suicide” ruling and tried to move on. Part of that, I realize, is finding someone new. No one will ever be Elliott, but I am young and I can’t give up yet. So I’ve been searching, and here’s what I’ve found:

Kevin Devine MAKE THE CLOCKS MOVE
This came out on Triple Crown Records in October 2003. I got this record from my friend much later, in March of this year. The song "Ballgame" nails that Elliott self-loathing guitar-playing sad bastard thing. Makes me want to save Kevin...but then I get resentful, because he's new and hasn’t really earned it. Sure he's suffered, but he's too, well, ALIVE for one thing. I feel weirdly disloyal to Elliott’s memory. Besides, lyrically the rest of the album doesn’t make me want to console him. It makes me want to punch a wall for being suckered in by “Ballgame.” Maybe it's too soon?

Blue Eyed Son WEST OF LINCOLN
Release June 1, 2004 Eenie Meenie Records, which immediately makes me think of how Elliott started on Kill Rock Stars and how much I loved his first record, the self-titled one, which was sent to the booking agency I worked for in Chicago. It was sent to my boss to be considered for a package tour, but I did Elliott no favors in that respect. Instead, I listened to it so much at work that eventually everyone was sick of it, so I had to take it home with me where I could sit in the dark and drink and cry to it all I wanted. Oh, yeah, Blue Eyed Son...The song "Tide” has the vocals and a little piano, which reminds me of the track “Clementine” from Elliott. Hmmmmm, the more I listen, it just seems deliberately Elliott. I could be wrong, but seriously boys, let the body cool before you cop his vibe.

Rogue Wave OUT OF THE SHADOW
This doesn't even street until July 13, 2004. It's a Sub Pop record, and definitely the leading contender. It's good start to finish, though track 6 wouldn’t play in my CD player, leading me to discover a small divot on the surface of the disk. "Be Kind & Remind" has the wistful, pleading lyrical style...and the guitar! It's Simon & Garfunkel channeled through Elliott Smith and THEN Josh Rogue adds his touch. "Seasick On Land" also has that guitar…that chord progression thing Elliott did, that made it seem like the guitar was an extension of his sad, sad heart.

I have to say that I didn’t expect to replace him completely, but Rogue Wave does seem to have a lot of what I’ve been seeking. It’s Elliott enough, but it’s Josh too. Josh can be sad, but he doesn’t hate himself. This is a good thing, because after losing Elliott to his own depression and the world that stemmed from it, I have a slight fear of abandonment. Also, this is not post-mortem Elliott rip-off, because it was originally released in 2002 on a smaller label…while Elliott was alive and shooting heroin in Silverlake.

Yep, Rogue Wave is the new Elliott Smith. Unless the band sucks live or Josh is too pretty. Will keep you posted.

Some things are meant to last. Like my quietly smoldering love affair with Target. You'd think I'd be over it by now, given my fickle nature when it comes to retail. After all, they're not the new kid on the block by any means. (Though they have done a wonderful job reinventing themselves through their delightfully quirky TV campaigns.) Sure, there was a point in time where I had to deal with their dreaded "music section" while doing stock checks for work. And these frustrating encounters did sour me on the store overall a wee bit. But I never turned away completely. Never.

I believe things happen for a reason. Through a slight mis-scheduling (read: I showed up an hour early) of a recent doctor's appointment, I found myself with some time to kill and Target was the closest attraction that suited my current needs. My needs being patio chairs. And, as it turned out, coordinating accessories for outdoor living!

The background is as such: I have lived in an apartment with a could-be charming patio for a little over a year now. For most of this time, my decoration consisted of two butterfly chairs and some ferns in those sad plastic nursery containers that you have to water every 6 hours in summer to maintain the desired level of life. This year, I got a powerful urge to transform that space into something liveable, enjoyable...maybe even enviable. Step 1-- Repotting of plants--had been completed recently. So, as I found myself approaching the bright red doors of Target, Step 2--Acquiring reasonably priced, yet hip and fun chairs, tables and lighting--was on my mind.

Well, Target had the stuff. And it was very reasonably priced. And there were great colors from which to chose. I spent 30+ minutes test-sitting chairs. With cushions, without. With this table, that table and that other table next to it. I tested for comfort, angle of reach and leg-swinging capability. I compared prices. I narrowed it down, then made my choices...filling a straggling cart that some blessed soul had helpfully abandoned in the department. One I got a sense of how much crap would fit around the main purchases in the cart, I grabbed a couple nice-looking colorful glass candle holders meant for outdoor use.

Once I got home, I assembled the whole thing & it was exactly what I wanted. It nearly doubled my living space, and makes an excellent spot for working on my computer (yay wireless!). My first visitor to the space told me she thought my pation was very warm and comfortable, and looked like it had always been that way.

Mission complete, story over. But no. I find myself thinking about Target. More than usual. More than one might consider healthy. I've been putting together a mental list of things I could probably find someplace with a less-hectic parking lot, but won't bother, because I am once again bewitched by Target.

Don't mock me because I have a Jack Johnson CD in my car. "On And On" is my traffic jam meltdown prevention. I turn to this record exclusively on warm, sunny days, when the surfer/guitar-playin' singer-songwrite thing fits. (On cloudy days, I just stew in my road rage.)

I have no favorite tracks...all the songs work equally well. Thirty seconds in, and I can practically feel that beach breeze on my face. The lyrics sort of tumble over each other. The rhythm is hypnotic. Johnson's voice soothes. I always end up feeling a little more zen after a listen to this record. Laugh if you must, but it works for me.

To be clear, if I actually encountered Jack Johnson (or a reasonable fascimile thereof) sittin' on the beach, playin' and singin' those very same songs, I would absolutely slink away. Much in the same way I do when I have to walk by that poor guy dressed like a Subway sandwich, waving at cars.