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When one hears an album as ethereal as “Imaginal Disk,” it’s a solemn reminder of how magical music can be. Released on Aug. 23 by Magdalena Bay, the Los Angeles-based writer-producer alternative pop duo comprised of Mica Tenenbaum and Matthew Lewin, the sophomore concept album consists of 15 songs that span 54 minutes. It follows the cult success of 2021’s “Mercurial World.”
Every song neatly flows into the next, each building a cohesive narrative with poignantly-explored themes of existentialism, personal growth, loneliness and love across a hope-bound sci-fi arc. By telling listeners an overarching story, the album achieves a compelling depth not otherwise possible.
On the opening track, “She Looked Like Me!”, listeners are met with glistening keys and Tenenbaum — characterized by her high-pitch vocals — timidly singing about her idealized, but “ordinary,” future self, which is rooted in fairly conservative expectations. But as the record progresses, so does her formula for human purpose and happiness. That journey is nonlinear and gradual, just like in real life.
“Killing Time” starts out light, with Tenenbaum questioning the titular idiom’s meaning. She laments the wait for her “ordinary” future, with the song eventually devolving into something equal parts hellish and comforting as the singer reflects on the preciousness of time. Building toward a powerful sonic peak such as the one in this song is a common thread across the record.
The reverb-heavy “True Blue Interlude” follows, marking a new beginning for Tenenbaum’s path to self-actualization where she shifts course away from the predictable. The echoing keys and repetitive backing vocals make us feel like we’re slipping into a transcendent dreamscape.
The interlude expands into “Image,” where Tenenbaum faces inner conflict and longs for change over an energetic bassline and melodic 808s.
The next two tracks, “Death & Romance” and “Fear, Sex,” are yet another turning point in which the singer anthemically questions her crumbling romance, which inevitably fails due to how overly draining it is. She’s sent into a desperate recovery mode over more heavy synths on “Vampire in the Corner” and “Watching T.V.,” the latter of which sees the singer finally confronting her greatest fears.
There’s an earnestness to the loneliness of the previous tracks that make Tenenbaum’s optimistic resurgence feel deserved in the next two songs. She sees the light on “Tunnel Vision” and enthusiastically reframes her mindset on “Love Is Everywhere” by no longer “thinking ’bout the bad in the good.”
In the latter song’s outro, the opening track’s central leitmotif is revisited over deeply joyous keys and strings, subverting the original lyrics to proclaim that life is what one makes of it. A similar callback happens over angelic horns on “Feeling Diskinserted?.”
Tenenbaum’s newfound outlook is vividly depicted via an elevator metaphor on the funky and explosive “That’s My Floor,” a distinctly rock moment on the album where Tenenbaum displays a heightened sense of self-confidence.
“Cry for Me” is the moody yet cheerful climax of the record, successfully drawing from the feeling that made ABBA’s “Dancing Queen” so invigorating, according to Lewin in an interview with Vulture. On it, Tenenbaum expresses a liberating desire for absolution from her past, repeatedly chanting “think of love when you remember me.”
The positivity continues with abundant key changes on “Angel on a Satellite,” which builds into intense orchestral beauty before settling back into a rainy soundscape and flowing directly into “The Ballad of Matt & Mica,” the last track on the album. The finale has an otherworldly meter change and completely subverts “She Looked Like Me!”’s lyrics, with Tenenbaum celebrating the end of her journey by planting her true fate as “not ordinary.”
The all-around quality of “Imaginal Disk” is difficult to overstate. By offering listeners a grounded identity narrative via dreamy synths and intricate chamber sounds, Mag Bay crafted a rich contender for 2024’s album of the year.
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Contact Henry Adams via email: henry.adams@pepperdine.edu
