Janelle Monae’s latest jams have been lighting up my social media feeds with exclamations of joyous discovery. Glad to know the girl’s finally getting around. Easily one of the most talented artists my generation has seen thus far, Monae has suffered a bit from exactly that kind of sudden, superlative praise. As Pitchfork noted in its review of Monae’s newest LP, “The Electric Lady,” “She arrived so thoroughly anointed by so many key figures in the entertainment industry that it has sometimes felt pointless to try and touch her.”

Two more dead rappers were resurrected this weekend: N.W.A.’s Eazy-E (died of AIDS complications in 1995) and Wu-Tang’s Ol’ Dirty Bastard (OD’d in 2004). Using the same technology that brought Tupac Shakur to the Coachella stage last year, both late MCs reappeared as simulated holograms to perform alongside their surviving cohorts at the L.A. stop of the Rock the Bells hip-hop tour.

An astute critic I know recently reminisced about the particular genius of Elton John’s 1975 album “Captain Fantastic and the Brown Dirt Cowboy,” and it sent me reeling back through what is easily the peak artistic achievement of John and his lyricist Bernie Taupin. Sure the album was a hit (the first LP to debut at No. 1 on Billboard’s pop chart) but the scale of John’s eventual career — writing the very consumer-driven treacle he disparages on this album — has somewhat overshadowed its majestic legacy. A snobbish question: Does it take a writer to truly appreciate this album about writing?

The first time I saw Hatsune Miku in concert, I started scribbling notes. “It’s Rei Toei!!” was the first thing I wrote. That was the 2011 Live in Sapporo show, simulcast to movie theaters in nine U.S. cities. Last weekend, celebrating the Japanese digital idol’s sixth birthday (well, her sixth 16th birthday…), Miku’s Magical Mirai concert was broadcast on delay to just two cities here (LA and NYC) — but the show was a remarkable improvement and a blockbuster performance all around. I couldn’t help but scribble more notes, including this possibly more telling one as Miku appeared with a guitar: “Transformation to Madonna complete.”

Throughout my 20 years in music journalism, the question I’ve been asked most often is, “What’s the best concert you’ve seen?” Variation: “Seen any cool shows lately?” (The second most common Q: “What was your first concert?” A: Journey, with Bryan Adams opening, July 20, 1983, at Lloyd Noble Arena.)

I’m terrible about answering this because (a) I have good memory but terrible on-the-spot recall, and (b) like any critic the answer changes week to week. But on the occasion of winding down this portion of my career, I thought it was time for a definitive retrospective.

So here's a running list of my favorite concerts. That doesn’t mean these were the critical best, though personal and professional thrills usually coincide. This list stems from the personal — the shows that were a thrill, often because of who it was, where we were, sometimes why, often who I was with (maybe you!) — from my misspent youth to my just-finished days as a full-time critic. A lot of ticket stubs and laminates under the bridge ...