Magdalena Bay Invites Us Into the Immersive World of New Album, ‘Imaginal Disk’
Visionary synth-pop duo Mica Tenenbaum and Matthew Lewin tapped into the roots of their influences to bring us a fully-fledged sci-fi universe within their sophomore album.
Returning to what inspired them when they first met in high school, Imaginal Disk draws musically from the work of artists like Björk, Fiona Apple, Paul McCartney, and Electric Light Orchestra. Visually, the pair cited the films Suspiria (1977), Flash Gordon (1980), Hausu (1977), and Donkey Skin (1970) as contributing influences. The resulting Imaginal Disk is a mosaic of texture, both in sound and on screen, that tells a tale of personal transformation via a retro-futuristic sci-fi adventure. We follow the story of main character True, played by Tenenbaum in the music videos, who rejects an “imaginal disk’ “implanted in their forehead, prompting them on a journey to discover what it means to be human.
From start to finish, this record is cohesive without adhering to a singular sound. Outfitted with seamless transitions, repeating melodic motifs, and a general disregard for traditional song structure, the experience of listening to Imaginal Disk is disorienting, to say the least. This is especially the case with “Death & Romance” and “Fear, Sex”. The former, lead single of the record, is an upbeat piano pop ballad wherein Tenenbaum sings desperately about love, “My hands, your hands / I’ll hold forever / No way I’ll break hold / No, not ever.” Piano and drums are layered with glimmering synths that spiral up into the atmosphere and fall back down. As the song concludes, we’re left with winding ambient waves that carry us straight into the next track.
In an almost undetectable transition, “Fear, Sex” feels, at first, like the extended outro to “Death & Romance”. Approaching halfway through, Tenenbaum pleads, “So get me out of this mess,” and a punchy synth bassline drops in to shift us into groovy new territory. In its final moments, the track undergoes another transformation, winding down into a whimsical undulating synth sequence surrounded by distorted laughter and other disturbing sounds before fading out. It’s clear these two songs serve as counterparts to one another as they’re grouped into one stunning, plot-heavy, eight-minute music video.
Earlier in the record, we hear “True Blue Interlude,” a serene introduction to a pivotal song on the record. Backing vocals sing “True Blue” repeatedly as Tenenbaum’s speaking voice guides us in meditation, “Say hello. It’s you. The purest you. It’s here. Imaginal Disk. Say hello. It’s you.” With no downtime between tracks, we’re propelled into the unnerving soundscape of “Image,” a central plot point in the storyline that doubles as a fiery, danceable pop song. As depicted in the music video, True finds themself in a waiting room ahead of the disk insertion procedure while a timer on the television counts down the minutes left. Tenenbaum’s lyrics reflect this, building anticipation each time the chorus is repeated, “But oh, my God / 22 more minutes / Oh, so hot / Meet your brand new image” echoed later, “Oh, my God / Only one more minute.” As we near the procedure, a crunchy bass kicks in, heightening the sense of anxiety (or excitement?) True seems to feel until the song ends with a final crash.
In “Tunnel Vision,” Magdalena Bay’s origin as a prog rock band is revealed. It opens with a heavenly synth harp arpeggio that glistens over Tenenbaum’s words, “I turn my headlights on / And suddenly I can see / I learn of right and wrong / and suddenly I can breathe.” Progressively, the crushing anxiety of this newfound enlightenment becomes more apparent in the lyrics. The song descends into full-blown madness. A storm of drums, crashing cymbals, and what sound like shooting lasers and wailing sirens dominate the latter half of the track until its close.
The final single, released just a day ahead of the album, is “That’s My Floor.” This hard-hitting number about a metaphorical elevator ride leans more toward rock than any other track on the record. In the music video, we see new and familiar characters, tying together some loose ends in the bewildering universe. By no means does it clarify the subject of the plot; in fact, it feels thematically similar to the acid trip that is MGMT’s Time to Pretend music video. Aesthetically, it presents an eclectic collage of mediums with the use of green screens, pixel art, claymation, and live actors in costume. Towards the end, Lewin performs a stellar guitar solo as chaos unfolds around him. The video ends on somewhat of a cliffhanger, leaving us to wonder if this will truly be the last visual for this project.
What is most compelling about the fictional world of Imaginal Disk is the mystery that still surrounds it. While the plot, characters, and sentiments are well thought out, what we are presented in its final form leaves a lot to the imagination. If, like me, the music and videos left you wondering more about the deeper meaning behind Imaginal Disk, I implore you to visit the interactive map on Magdalena Bay’s site, where you can explore the universe in more depth. The graphics are nostalgic for a 90s PC game and a bit unsettling yet very intriguing. Listen to Imaginal Disk below, and plan to catch them live on their Imaginal Mystery Tour beginning in early September.
