Magic Fig

Last year’s EP gave a beautifully brilliant glimpse into the world of Magic Fig. The Bay Area band boasts a handful of familiar names that have been swirling around the indie pop arena; members of Whitney’s Playland, The Umbrellas, Almond Joy, Healing Potpourri, and Blades of Joy. Such a stacked roster brought with it expectations of breezy strums and pop hooks, but the band slipped free of their indie pop past to embrace prog, Anglican folk, and Canterbury psych instead. On their debut album, Magic Fig only deepen their devotion to the psychedelic swirl. The band plays the prog card from the very first moments on Valerian Tea, backing up Inna Showalter’s soaring vocals with dreamy blossoms of mellotron and a burbling rhythmic ripple. The EP dipped its toes into the push and pull of ‘60s psych vs ‘90s synth swaths, but the full LP envelops the listener like a Radiophonic dream.

Skipping frequencies from Broadcast to Caravan, from Fifty Foot Hose to a bevy of Joe Byrd creations, the record wraps the world in prismatic hues. Every note is ensconced in velvet, every chord hanging on the edges of a dream. The record divines the kind of crepe paper Diorama that’s been lost among the analog airwaves of the past. Songs touch on legacy, doubt, memory, and self-mythology, all wrapped up in the gossamer glow of melancholy. Once listeners tumble through the portal into Valerian Tea, it’s easy to get lost, turned around and twisted in a maze of mirrors and smoked glass. Yet each trip returns them unscathed. Perhaps a bit heavy-hearted, but never more than briefly bruised by the band’s psychedelic wonderland. The record aims to align itself with kaleidoscopic curios of the past, and it succeeds quite nicely, a lysergic treasure that’ll only gets better with each listen.