After several years of major-label maneuvering that led to a stalling career, Robyn bought out her contract, formed her own label, and released a mighty re-breakthrough in 2005. Since then, she hasn't slowed down much. This year she's scored two big collaborations-- "Dream On" (with Christian Falk and Ola Salo) and "With Every Heartbeat" (with Kleerup)-- and now releases The Rakamonie EP, an assortment of oddball experiments, covers, and alternate takes. Each of these five tracks has been available in some form or another for a while, but they still sound fresh and revelatory.

Of the tracks off Robyn's self-titled 2005 album, "Konichiwa Bitches"-- with its Spike Jones production antics and her old-school flow-- has the most potential to sound dated. But kicking off Rakamonie, that beat still sizzles, effectively negating the last Beck album, and Robyn's flygirl attitude remains undiluted even in the wake of Lady Sov's rise and plateau. While the song doesn't hint at Robyn's vocal range, it does showcase her hip-hop sensibilities and handily illustrates the zeal she takes in making music. That creative energy courses through every song on this EP (which, sadly, isn't likely to see release on this side of the Atlantic).

Rakamonie is a catchall for sure, but it magnifies the confidence of "Konichiwa Bitches" and showcases new facets of the persona she introduced on Robyn. On her cover of Teddybears' "Cobrastyle", she playfully turns Mad Cobra's Jamaican patois into a dance nursery rhyme, singing lines like "My style is di bom digi bom di deng di deng digigi" to boast about her je ne sais quoi.

Even better are the pair of piano-led covers of Saul Williams' "List of Demands" and Prince's "Jack U Off". The former, recorded live with fellow Swede Jenny Wilson for Swedish music channel Musikbyrån, has an infectious pajama-party exuberance that barely disguises the boiling anger beneath the lyrics: The singers immediately establish a buzzy chemistry as they half-rap about playing broom-guitar and jumping on the bed, but they communicate the gravity of Williams' lyrics nonetheless. "Jack U Off", meanwhile, features Robyn accompanied only by barrelhouse piano (played by Björn Yttling of compatriots Peter Bjorn and John), creating an odd setting for such brashly stated sexual ministrations. Still, she takes obvious glee in the song's brattiness and, like Prince, recognizes the comedic absurdity of the single entendre. Also like Prince, Robyn manages to make it equally funny and sexy, which is no small feat.

Conversely, on the ballad version of "Be Mine", which is slowed to a stately tempo and stripped of its beat, Robyn reveals the expressiveness of her voice, its power and restraint. While it doesn't possess the devastating impact of the original, whose pop accoutrements magnified her heartbreak, this new interpretation not only shows how strong a songwriter Teddybears' Klas Åhlund is, but what a controlled and expressive vocalist Robyn is. Eschewing the trilling theatrics favored by so many young female singers, Robyn conveys depths of desperation in her restraint, singing straightforwardly but dramatically.

Robyn's popularity, limited as it is stateside, is based on her ability to inhabit a song with confidence and intuition, singing the hell out of it but never sounding showy or affected. Robyn keeps herself tethered to real life. When she halts "Be Mine" for a girl-group-style spoken-word bridge, she brings the song back to earth, playing up the heart-wrenching banality of crying in the rain and watching your ex tie someone else's shoelaces. It works so well-- on this version, but especially on the original-- because the passage anchors overwhelming pop emotions in the everyday. This is Robyn's strength as an artist, and maybe it's the key to her appeal: Her musical vocabulary covers girl groups, dance beats, pop hooks, and hip-hop jumprope rhythms, but she imbues these common elements with true soul.