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As winter slowly phases out of season here in southern Utah, I’m drawn to the shocking realization that spring will soon be taking its place (as it does every year.) This, I suppose, isn’t actually shocking, but I am quite excited. What does this mean for me?

Well, for one, I’ll be able to go outside and take photos again. I suppose there was nothing stopping me, but I am a bit of a “wuss,” if you will, and am not terribly interested in having my hands freeze off. Can you blame me?

For two — and why don’t we ever say that? — it allows me to create a new playlist devoted to my regular walks from home to university and back! Now, I haven’t created one for winter, but I have realized that I often listen to the same styles of music when walking along snow-strewn sidewalks in the biting cold. So, rather than just trying to find styles that match these foreign weather patterns and attempting to conform to them a set of music, I’ll take it one step further.

I’ll make a mixtape!

It was in 2001 — six-and-a-half years ago — that I first heard tale of Weezer’s mysterious opus, Songs From the Black Hole, a project that frontman Rivers Cuomo had spoken of very little and much hype had arisen behind as a result.

It’s 2008 now, and still, there are several songs from the never-finished concept album that have yet to see the light of day. One of those, until sometime in the range of one month ago, was “Superfriend,” a track that had gained some notoriety on Weezer fan message boards, particularly the Rebel Weezer Board and the Rivers Correspondence Board, which I read voraciously but kept my posting to a minimum, for better or worse.

At any rate, the track quickly became a thing of legend, with only a very select few having actually heard it — and the track certainly wasn’t floating around the mass of information that is the Internet (or bootleg trading circles, for that matter) for easy listening purposes.

Once again, I’ve turned my attention to atmospherically pleasing music; this time, my interest has been sparked by flurrying snow that’s made its way back to Cedar City. I woke up, left for school, and was given a bit of a hassle by some inclement weather, but nothing was terribly pressing: No, it wasn’t until later that the real weather kicked in.

And it did kick in. Returning to the university after a lunch break, I suddenly found movement to be restricted by stabbing cold wind, my vision blocked by quickly approaching flakes of snow. So, what did I do? I slipped headphones over my bearded head, switched my music playing device (an iPod, if you must ask) to something suitable, and walked, head down.

One thing I have particular interest in, above most things considered mundane, is the ability music has to add perspective to natural environments. Take, for instance, my walk toward the university this cold morning: Before leaving the house, I slip my headphones on and find music fitting of my mood to listen to. It varies from day to day, of course, but I’ll often to listen something that’s caught my fancy lately.

This morning, it was a revisiting of ( ), an untitled album by vaguely-post-rock group Sigur Ros. The biting cold, coupled with icy sidewalks and that powdery snow Utah is famous for, didn’t fade away with the music, but it did seem a bit less important alongside beautiful music. In fact, excepting, of course, the biting cold, the music seemed to complement what was essentially a typically winter scenario in Cedar City, Utah.