The first time I ever experienced butterflies in the pit of my stomach, I immediately went out and bought an Alka-Seltzer. Even for people who possess a stronger knowing of their hearts (or guts), one of the most basic human dilemmas is the question of how we justify our feelings to ourselves. Regardless of how overwhelming—never mind physical—they can be, to sit with and be moved by our emotions is uncomfortable business. Not even a master of owning her thorniest feelings like Robyn is immune. On her first single in seven years, the Swedish diva wants to know that the desire bubbling inside of her is stronger than the sum of her synapses.
“Dopamine” is a gorgeous riff on a classic Robyn formula, taking the synthetic shimmer of a dance track and catalyzing its underlying passion with the warm caress of her voice. The production, courtesy of longtime collaborator Klas Åhlund is bracingly artificial. As the song builds with robotic voices, Moroder rave-ups, and a starburst of synths, the singer dismisses, then embraces that what she feels is actually real. The arch of hesitancy, surrender, and resolve in her voice is incredibly moving, and a reminder that the fine, human way she phrases pop is worth years of waiting. “Maybe it’s just dopamine,” Robyn sings, all the while proving that she’s really just alive.
