Author: Abby Graham
Photography done by Noelle Lee
September 29, 2025, Magdalena Bay turned Seattle’s Showbox SoDo into a experience half-concert, half-lucid dream. The moment the house lights dimmed, it was clear that the night would be a synth-pop concert more than common—it was performance, narrative, and electronic magic carried on by two artists who have honed sound as much as the spirit of feeling.
The evening kicked off with Oxis (pictured below), whose ambient electronic performance established a sort of meditative stillness before the headliner. Her heavenly production, atmospheric vocals, and sparse beats primed the crowd for what was to ensue—an entrancement of sound. Her sound constructed tension without demanding it, and once she departed, the space vibrated in a subdued, anticipatory manner, as if a deep breath held in waiting to be released.
(Photo Creds: Noelle Lee)
When Magdalena Bay emerged, the room erupted. They launched into “She Looked Like Me!” and then halted in the middle of it when a fan fainted near the front row. The duo immediately halted, checking to see if the fan was alright before restarting from the top. That act of care, that people over spectacle, spoke volumes about them. It wasn’t a show: it was a shared experience of artists and audience.
When they started up again, the applause was more intense, the energy more piercing, the bond more strong. The thing that’s so exciting about Magdalena Bay is how well they balance precision and feeling. Mica Tenenbaum is a force of flexibility—her voice can sparkle like sunlight off glass one moment and cut with raw energy the next. She commands the stage with subtle confidence, never overwhelming but ever captivating, her movements liquid yet deliberate. Matthew Lewin is her perfect opposite: the sonic architect. His playing and production add depth to their universe, from swooping kaleidoscope synths to cutting breaks that appear almost supernatural in their precision.

Together, they are unbroken—two points of a single, electric heartbeat. The setlist was a journey through their evolving style, from the driving intensity of “Killing Time” and “Secrets (Your Fire)” to the ecstatic release of “You Lose! ” and the ominous tension of “Fear, Sex.” Tracks like “Vampire in the Corner” and “Watching T.V.” were all but motion picture-esque, layering humor, wistfulness, and contemplation over something that hit harder than words on paper ever could.
Their newer releases—”Tunnel Vision,” ”Top Dog,” and ”Tonguetwister”—showed how far they’ve come as songwriters. Each new track was a new page, a new addition to the same shimmering universe. ”Paint Me a Picture” was the most intimate moment of the night. With images of pixelated faces melting into floral designs and surreal landscapes, the song was an experiment in identity and perception. Mica’s voice cracked and then imploded, drifting out into the corridor as though dissolving into noise.
“Feeling DiskInserted?” reminded us all around to the manic energy, prior to “Chaeri” and “Cry for Me” reminding the crowd why Magdalena Bay are synth-pop strels no more—they’re songwriters. All the words feel like purpose, all the hooks a thread taking you deeper in to their universe.
The encore—”Ghost,” “Second Sleep,” and “The Beginning”—was ethereal. It was no finale, however; it was a coming down to Earth after having been suspended in mid-air. Transitions from song to song were dreamlike, one blearing into the other until Mica merely whispered, “See you in the next dream,” and the audience collectively exhaled.
But what actually sets Magdalena Bay apart isn’t so much their sound—it’s their vision. Their live shows are lovingly calibrated to cross boundaries between human and digital, past and future. Behind them, glowing screens pulsed with VHS-quality static, cosmic imagery, and pixelated avatars. But it never felt gimmicky. The visuals complemented the narrative the music already related: that emotion can live in any shape or form, including the synthetic and surreal.
Their power is synthesis—genre, tone, meaning. They can make heartbreak beautiful and make joy existentially profound. Their technique is staggering; every drop, every bass drop, every modulation is calculated. The music never loses its heart in doing so, though. You can feel that they like what they do. You can feel the hours spent refining each sound, not to amaze, but to communicate.
Watching Mica and Matthew live makes you remember that pop doesn’t necessarily mean shallow. Their music is a inheritor of decades of influences—’80s synth pop, hyperpop, new wave, prog electronica—but what they make of it all is their own. In an age of overstimulation, Magdalena Bay invites you to slow down and listen.
At the close of the evening, the crowd stood in stunned unison. Some danced as if trying to brand the moment onto their skin; others froze, crying through smiles. After the initial fright during the performance, it seemed everyone was just happy to be present—to be within the room, the same hall, the same beat.”. As the final notes of “The Beginning” dissolved into stillness, the lights faded and the audience was reluctant to leave the universe that Magdalena Bay had constructed. It was not a concert. It was proof that pop music can be heavy too, that digital art can get human, and that talent—real, untainted talent—can freeze time. That night, Showbox SoDo was not just a structure. It was the portal to another universe, one built of light, of sound, of the boundless imagination of two visionaries who keep reaching beyond what modern music can be.
