A long while back, there was a piece in the Believer about the strange but compelling aesthetic appeal of abandoned, crumbling factories (n.b. it was in Believer 11, and the piece was called The Acropolis of Northern New Jersey, by Angela Starita), and the industrial archeologists who do not just appreciate but cherish these structures. Ray Raposa, the talent behind the Castanets, seems like he could be one of those people for whom an old, semi-windowless tire factory would be a thing of beauty.
The song starts off quietly, just Raposa and his guitar: “all buried in the industry and snow I saw you/they’re breathing down the backs of all those hills.” He sings very matter-of-factly, as if he were stating a case to the crickets outside his porch. Then there’s a small and awesome interlude with a toy piano, which gives the song a weird, delicate, missing-tooth feel. The ending of ‘Industry and Snow’ is bracing- like a bucket of cold water dumped over your head unexpectedly (slide guitars, squealing static, revelrous drums).