The key is Robyn, who will make an incredible spin class instructor if she ever gets tired of pop music: she keeps platitudes from sounding stale and grants the bridge an unexpected melancholy, dragging the song from the dancefloor to the quiet bedroom. This could’ve been the musical equivalent of jamming the speed button on the treadmill until it can’t go any faster, and it would’ve been fine; Robyn takes us inside the mind of the runner, and tells us why they’re running.
