My name is Brendan Speltz. I tour nationally and internationally as a professional classical violinist, and I live in San Antonio, TX. While people are often surprised by the former part of that statement, I sometimes can’t believe the latter.

I was born and raised in Los Angeles, CA, and spent 13 years of my professional life in New York City. It’s hard to imagine a more “big city” life than the one I’ve lived so far. For many of my years in NYC, it felt like the center of the universe, like the island of Manhattan had a cultural and personal gravity that was impossible to escape. In fact, it was a force field I never actually wanted to escape.

It’s the city that has it all. A place where, on any given day of the week, you can wake up, think of a cultural activity you’d like to experience, and be almost certain you’ll find it.

So it was with this literal and figurative backdrop — from high in my Harlem apartment overlooking the Hudson River and Midtown Manhattan — that my wife and I made the solemn decision to pack our two cars at the end of our lease and drive across the country to our new home: San Antonio.

My wife, Daniela, had received an offer to serve as Vice President of the Classical Music Institute, a resident company of The Tobin Center, and the math of staying in NYC while she traveled back and forth never added up. Aside from the handful of times each year my group, the Escher Quartet, performed at Lincoln Center, my touring schedule didn’t require me to be based in any particular city. So off we went.

People hear this story and ask us, “Isn’t that a crazy culture shock?”

The truth is: we love it here.

For starters, it feels a bit closer to the Southern California ecosystem and lifestyle I grew up with — just without the traffic. The weather is generally great, beautiful properties are still affordable, and we even welcome the vaunted summer heat. San Antonio also has a Latin American milieu that resonates with the Angeleno in me. From the language, food, and music to the architecture and family traditions, there’s a sense of continuity and rootedness here. It’s an identity that, by American standards, feels both ancient and alive.

There are big-city cultural offerings — the opera, ballet, orchestras, and world-class art museums, to name a few — that rival those in Houston and Dallas. At the same time, there’s a pace of life you can tap into at any moment. I love that I can drive down Broadway in 10 minutes from our home to the Tobin Center, usually failing to resist the pull of Central Market on the way back.

More than that, it feels like a city on the cusp. A land of cultural opportunity. And I feel like we arrived just before the figurative gold rush.

Since our move, we’ve been amazed not only by the built-in support for the arts but also by the enthusiasm and openness of audiences and patrons when it comes to new artistic projects and ideas. Perhaps even more importantly, when a creative idea comes along, there’s far less red tape standing in the way of making it happen.

Take, for instance, the first season of Chamber Connexions, a chamber music series I direct through the Classical Music Institute at venues around the city, including The Tobin Center. Nearly every performance in our inaugural season was sold out. People are hungry for great culture here. During a recent weekend, I heard international musician friends rehearse with The Orchestra San Antonio and the San Antonio Philharmonic, caught other friends performing with chamber ensembles Agarita and Olmos Ensemble, and saw a fantastic genre-bending string quartet, Invoke, perform at San Fernando Cathedral for Musical Bridges Around the World. High art is alive and growing here.

I have another musical side. A fun and little-known fact about me is that I’m a huge fan of underground electronic music. I DJ for the pure joy of it. I’ll always cherish the nights I spent at world-class venues and events in Brooklyn. In fact, one of the most nerve-wracking parts of relocating here was the uncertainty of finding that kind of scene again.

The very week we arrived, Maeve opened. More recently, Wav Room followed. Both are dedicated electronic music venues that feel uncannily similar to those I knew in New York.

So when I had the idea to host a party, called Casa del Groove, I approached the first place that came to mind: Tony’s Siesta, a deliciously irreverent cantina near downtown. The owner said yes on the spot.

Why does any of this matter? Because great cities have great art. Whether it’s a pulsing underground music and art scene or museums and concert halls on high, art is what makes a place worth living in. It gives a city an identity beyond commerce and sports — and, in fact, helps attract the very talent that drives both.

Otherwise, we could all live in Lubbock.

Looking forward, I have a dream to build a music festival here focused on electronic music and cutting-edge jazz, something that rivals the ones I experienced in New York. And with that in mind, here’s an anecdote that sums up my affection for this city.

My wife and I often listen to the radio while driving. There are a few stations I’m a huge fan of here, but above all, we listen to the jazz station KRTU. On Friday nights, there’s a show called House Nation, hosted by longtime San Antonio resident and master DJ Leonard Trujillo, airing from 10 to 11 p.m. We often put it on while hanging at home or driving back from an event. Leonard plays truly thoughtful dance music during that hour, and we love it.

So I messaged him on Instagram, and a few months later, we had dinner to get to know each other and talk about the festival idea.

I can hardly imagine something like that happening in New York or Los Angeles.

San Antonio, I’m here for the long run. And I look forward to continuing to build on your outstanding cultural cachet together.