We consider the oft-mocked “liminal space” by rendering it flat: in hallways and airports and stairwells that lead to nowhere—light clean, walls bare, air empty. But for untitled (halo), liminality is characterized by its haziness, with textures in flux, colors deeply saturated, and beams of light that blink and tremble from up close and afar.

The Los Angeles three-piece’s third single, “Spiral,” is a testament to the warm margin of young adulthood, and the intangibility of living through it. “I hardly find myself present in any moment worth remembering,” says untitled (halo)’s Jack Dione. “To be present, I feel as if I have to let go, and as I feel the moment pass, I immediately miss it.” The song and its accompanying video, premiering with Document, follow the band through Virgil Village, a real place imagined as makebelieve, void of any markings of time or context, but toned with a balmy feeling of familiarity.

The video was shot on Dione’s iPod Touch, its clips sat next to his own materialized memories. “The camera roll is full of forgotten moments of my childhood that I look [through], desperately trying to remember,” he muses—the shared time with his bandmates in making “Spiral” already worming its way toward those older memories, further from his mental reach.

“Spiral” is a dreamy picture of the impalpable nature of its namesake: “Whether it be a bender or self-induced mental terror, one’s perception of time either drags or flies.”

untitled (halo)’s debut EP, towncryer, releases September 22.