For years, indie pop duo Matthew Lewin and Mica Tenenbaum have been writing music hyper specific to and in conversation with the internet — fizzy backing tracks, a throw-everything-at-the-wall aesthetic in their artsy, DIY music videos where they play most characters, and solid synthpop where Tenenbaum’s high voice and vocal performance could stand out on any Spotify playlist or H&M fitting room. Their 2021 debut, Mercurial World, was a smorgasbord of styles and sounds and their sophomore album, Imaginal Disk, extends their avant-garde pop and stylistic focus.

In the antithesis to Katy Perry’s desperate and continuously botched roll-out for her album, Imaginal Disk’s three pre-release singles are all contenders for Song of the Summer, ridiculously idiosyncratic and conceptually unique. “Death & Romance” is a cosmic piano rock/baggy jam hat puts a twist on a common cliché (“You know nothing is fair in death and romance”) and “Image” is a liminal, self-reflective cut that ends in squelching guitars, begging one to “make me in your image.” Both of their music videos, too, where Tenenbaum dons a character named True Blue and eventually succumbs to a red, star-faced monster are high-concept and high-quirk; sure to excite or frighten depending on whether you’re a child or under the influence.

“Tunnel Vision,” the most recently released single, brings to mind that quote which, if true, renders this piece useless — “Writing about music is like dancing about architecture.” The song’s slow and convoluted descent into madness is hard to capture and impossible to replicate, a barreling downturn towards destruction. Starting with recognition of one slipping down into a romance, it turns into horror as reflection goes too far (“I’ve learned what made me start / What turned me on / Now I’m scared of all my parts / ‘Cause suddenly I can see everything wrong”) paired with a psychedelic, prog-rock breakdown from the genius of Lewin’s production. It’s ridiculous, sweet, and sounds exactly like journeying through hell when previously you thought you were in heaven.

There is a dark undertone to Magdalena Bay’s music that “Tunnel Vision” represents — one you can see in the demonic hand reaching to install the titular disk into Tenenbaum’s forehead on the cover. The tropical-pop cut “Killing Time” starts like a cute walk on the beach, lamenting about love’s privacy (“I don’t care if I don’t sleep / But someone better pine for me, yeah / Without love I’m without me”), counting down the days in search of romance. But suddenly it turns and devilish voices spring up to chant the wickedly catchy: “I’m looking in the mirror and swallowing the key / It only takes a minute to forget a week,” half playful taunt and half genuine, existential questioning of the fabric of time. “She Looked Like Me!” enchants too, with its tale of young romance before the narrator meets a reflection of herself. “We stood mirrored till I leaned in / And then you know what she did? / She shot at me like an earthbound bullet,” she admits, but afterwards, she felt pure love — the crux of self-examination, perhaps. In pure Magdalenic fashion, this opening track comes back as a reprise for the closer, “The Ballad of Matt & Mica,” an ecstatic celebration of one’s own simplicity. “Open heart, old cliché / Two kids in a new town, baby / Is it my turn? Small time fame,” Tenenbaum sings, before killing the idea off with a “customary” gunshot.

To meet the image in question, the double Tenenbaum mentions on the album, is to do a lot of work. Imaginal Disk is severely concerned with one’s life — it’s a shockingly personal album for its joyful synthpop veneer. “If you want to be clean,” she mentions on “Watching T.V.,” before stretching her voice to uncanny heights, “You gotta scrub until the blood comes out / Get the spots in between / Slip your skin right off and hang it out.” It’s a visceral, propulsive image, but matches the jarring but often charming reflections she writes about so vulnerably elsewhere. “You always see the sky, angel on a satellite,” she sings, possibly touching on the public’s perception of her, “That’s why I don’t look up / That’s why I keep dancing.” The closing track, too, brings to mind the duo’s consistent output and discombobulated approach to music: “Fly high, overzealous / Past paragon / That’s why I’m the greatest / I keep shining the stone.” To work, of course, means putting the thoughts to the past and keeping your head down.

Tenenbaum’s writing might often lead to dark places, but never without a metaphor to ground it. She’s the titular “Vampire in the Corner,” wishing she knew how to dance or to love over the plucky track. “Sorry like a flower that never gets any sun / I hang my head down, let the bees do their buzz,” she sings. “Cry for Me” is a more-direct demand for pity, where she resigns herself to think about a lover, only hoping they’ll never forget about her in the future. “I leave all my dregs to all my progeny,” she says, not wanting to deal with it all, before the track spins into an ABBA-tinted happy/sad disco number with noticeable ease. “That’s My Floor” is more shrouded in mystery as the narrator submits to self-destruction (“Took the elevator in a fire / Pressing the alarm just took me higher”) that introduces gritty and distorted guitars reminiscent of older St. Vincent songs. The claim of decor (“That’s my floor / I’m coming up to the party and I want more”) might get lost in translation, but it’s an exciting song nonetheless.

With so many ideas, there are some songs that aren’t packed to the brim with surprises, and on a consistently baffling tracklist, these often get pushed to the side. “Love Is Everywhere” passes by lightly, more like an extended interlude to change to the next topic, like kids shuffling the setware during a play, and though “Watching T.V.” has some of the darkest lyricism on the record, its calmness falls to the side, much like the glinting, star-like synths on “Fear, Sex.” The “True Blue” interlude, too, seems to exist only to introduce much of the album’s ideas — “The purest you / Implanted, impatient, impossible / In memory, mirror, and membrane” — could have been expanded for a much more cerebral song.

It wouldn’t be a surprise to say that Magdalena Bay are two of the most creative people working in music today. With their second album, they’ve surpassed their first in terms of originality and sonic landscaping — though Imaginal Disk might not be full of as many pop tunes, it’s certainly an artistic evolution as Tenenbaum and Lewin’s writing and production shines at every corner. There are glints of surprises and greatness — the 22-minute countdown in “Image,” for example, leads to the mark in “Tunnel Vision” where things go awry — Easter eggs and glittery sounds to discover for months to come. Imaginal Disk is a fine portrait of creative freedom from two auteurs that have no trouble creating absurd, imaginary, and deeply innovative worlds.

Pre-order Imaginal Disc by Magdalena Bay HERE