Magdalena Bay, the neoprene-clad duo of Mica Tenenbaum and Matthew Lewin, have spent the last few years establishing themselves as indie pop’s savviest operators. Their debut album, 2021’s Mercurial World, was a sparkling, varied effort bent toward the space age. Putting on a song like “Chaeri” felt like attending a drag show in the world of Tron. “You Lose!” sounds like they molded TV static into a propulsive shoegaze song. Though each song on Mercurial World is a distinct moment, together they make the musical vision clear like pixels making up an image.
Visually, Magdalena Bay is just as well-defined. Their social media pages are plastered with videos that find Tenenbaum and Lewin in a cartoonish, horror-hued digital space. Their music videos are bold and colorful, but they always carry a sense of unease. This is especially true in the run-up to their sophomore album, Imaginal Disk. Amidst floating stone paths and Windows XP-style lush green fields, the duo interacts with the titular disk. Both alluring and eerie, the CD they pass back and forth becomes a sort of portal. In their promo videos, it’s practical—a means to promote the album’s first single, “Death & Romance.” However, listening to Imaginal Disk, one can envision the skittering first moments of “She Looked Like Me!” to be the same sharp, glimmering disc entering your head, as it does Tenenbaum’s on the album cover.
One might imagine, too, that a band with as much upward trajectory would rein in their weirder impulses for Mercurial World’s follow-up. Besides, they’ve shown themselves to be just as effective in short-form with their Mini Mix EPs. Instead, Tenenbaum and Lewin have taken the opportunity to stretch things out even further. Imaginal Disk is longer, weirder and more surprising than anything the pair have made yet.
There’s a story that comes up when Tenenbaum and Lewin recount the origins of Magdalena Bay. The two played in a prog rock band called Tabula Rasa when they heard Grimes’ landmark album, Art Angels. It showed them that pop music could be bent into whatever shape they liked. It’s the kind of tidbit that illuminates a lot of the more enigmatic aspects of their music. Similarly, Tenenbaum’s vocal affectations often feel in line with Grimes’, her voice just as spry, sweet and pleading. This view of pop music’s versatility gives way to gems like “Love is Everywhere,” a loungy, disco track haunted by a theremin. With its slinky bass line and Tenenbaum’s cheerleader chanting, it’s one of the most immediately catchy Magdalena Bay songs yet, but would feel completely alien on the radio. Picture lounging poolside, but instead of a pool, it’s a black hole. That’s “Love is Everywhere.” “Killing Time” feels similarly uncanny. Though it presents itself as a breezy ode to relaxing in time’s endless sprawl, the pair puts severe emphasis on the “killing” part of its title: The swaying guitar and winsome drum pattern are cut with a bloody fantasia, Tenenbaum ending the song with a feverish chant, a leader of her own cult.
Magdalena Bay’s familiarity with rock subgenres undergirds much of the left-field choices on Imaginal Disk. The freewheeling, boundless spirit found in progressive rock is littered throughout. “Death & Romance” luxuriates for just over five minutes, but each icy piano stab makes the scope feel bigger and more all-consuming. The stunning “Tunnel Vision” is an odyssey all its own. At first a fluttering halcyon slice of synth-pop, but things take a turn a few minutes in. The song becomes heavier and more reliant on a rollicking guitar and live drums. Tenenbaum’s voice falls into the background, morphing into unruly snarls and screams. It feels destined to be a total showstopper in their live show, and hopefully, one that they’ll stretch out even further. Songs like “Tunnel Vision” offer a keyhole view into a world where Magdalena Bay is a jam band.
With the amount of songs that begin and end in completely different worlds, sometimes even different genres, it’s as though Tenenbaum and Lewin set out not just to prove themselves as formidable pop stars, but as musicians through and through. They’re a pop act with a rockist core, but their insertions of prog, shoegaze, or even disco never feel done in a way that suggests pop is lesser without it, but adds muscularity to their music. This balance isn’t an easy one to find, but having done so with Imaginal Disk just acts as yet another flex.
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Eric Bennett is a music critic in Philadelphia with bylines at Pitchfork, Post-Trash and The Alternative. They are also a co-host of Endless Scroll, a weekly podcast covering the intersection of music and internet culture. You can follow them on Twitter @violet_by_hole.
