It’s a cou­ple days short of being two years since I moved to Cam­bridge from Cleve­land. I moved here in the snow, and I lived in it for sev­eral months as I got used to the place, so the arrival of snow always feels like a return to nor­mal­ity, to some kind of nat­ural or rest­ing state of the world. Sum­mers are an anom­aly. Every­thing now feels more real, more actual, more vivid and at-the-surface, epi­der­mal — even just walk­ing down the street lis­ten­ing to Six Organs, for instance. I guess there’s noth­ing unique about win­ter in that regard, it’s really that way with the arrival of any sea­son, come to think of it. But I think bet­ter things tend to hap­pen to me in the win­ter, for what­ever reason.

Tonight: Blue Vel­vet at the Brattle.