I love this city more than anyone I know. I've vacationed in Hawaii and Cancun, and each time I landed home, a smile graced my face when I saw the Strip outside the plane window. I thought I'd be here till death do us part.

And yet, I'm moving to Chicago to work for the Sun-Times. It isn't easy prying myself out of here. I'm going to miss my friends, my colleagues, the hotels, the music and everything else except for single and married people who are skanks but pretend not to be while sharking for prey around town.

Goodbye columns can be maudlin, so I'll pat down the sentimentalism, and I'll spare you the memories that come with being a rock critic in Las Vegas (whipped cream at New York-New York at 4 a.m., etc.)

I've heard nine perfect shows in Las Vegas since I got here in May 2000: 1. Stone Temple Pilots -- shockingly fun. 2. Liz Phair -- she lives in Chicago, so I'm hoping for a love connection of a sort. 3. Joan Osborne -- I know you hate that "God" song, but in person she's heaven. 4. Rufus Wainwright -- unimaginable perfection. 5. Mix Master Mike -- could there be a better turntablist? 6. V.A.S.T. -- a tornado of beautiful darkness. 7. Hooverphonic -- the music version of what I imagine heroin must feel like. 8. Prince -- genius. 9. The Clydesdale -- a Vegas band starring maybe the most engaging country singer west of the Mississippi.

My favorite interviews here: 1. Prince -- he drove me in a golf cart backstage, come on. 2. Liz Phair -- I think I made her cry. 3. Sarah McLachlan -- she made me blush; I had to apologize. 4. Paul McCartney -- he talked about writing "Black Bird" and his final moments with George Harrison. 5. David Bowie -- brilliant and chatty. 6. Stephen Wright -- I laughed so hard I couldn't catch my breath. 7. Irv Kluger -- jazz drummer to the stars.

My five least-favorite concerts: 1. Toby Keith -- ass clown. 2. Eminem -- ass face. 3. Jessica Simpson -- ass brain. 4. Some doo-wop group whose name I forget -- it tested the limits of how far I could stick my fingers in my ears. 5. The Wallflowers -- why? Why not?

My eternal request is that you try new music. Buy a satellite radio, listen to Internet radio stations, or download. There's a lot of great music in the world. You're probably not looking very hard to find it.

And don't be ashamed of your tastes. If you think Night Ranger is the greatest band ever, good for you. Don't let people browbeat you into labeling it a "guilty pleasure." Cherish what makes you happy. You can never be wrong about a subjective preference.

In fact, here's a parting gift, a clip and save. Doug Elfman, the greatest writer and music critic who will ever live, hereby authorizes you never to feel ashamed of your taste in music for any reason, in perpetuity in the universe.

To the guy who said Vegas has no soul: stick it in your colon.

And a final thought from Liz Phair: "I'll see you around. Every hollow has its favorite sound. And my heart is holding on."

Yours, Doug.