Pitchfork

Months after its release, there is still no review of Robyn's self-titled album. (Perhaps she needs to grow a beard and/or buy a harp.) Can you resist a girl who calls you a bum with such offhand sass and then offers to knit you mittens and make you pie? Or, as on this track, who rockets through a speedy synthbeat, heart-tugging string arrangement, and perfectly coiffed vocal setting up a breakdown where a Pound Puppy sniffles that she "saw you with what's-her-name at the station" and that "you looked happy, and that's great," before finally admitting "I just miss you, that's all," as your face crumples into abject despair because you pay taxes and have a 401k plan but still ache like a tooth when someone stomps on your heart?? Swedish people know what they're doing when it comes to this stuff, okay? Fuck you all, I'm moving to Stockholm.