“Take Me Apart,” the title song from Kelela’s debut album, is a spiraling, labyrinthine seduction. “You don’t know my bed/well tonight you might find out,” she sings quietly. Within moments a muffled beat has quickened into a thudding double time pulse as she commands “Take me apart.” She backs off, “afraid of fallin’,” only to get swept up again. There’s a swerve, abetted by a jazzy close-harmony choir of Kelelas, as she notes she’s been up late writing a song, then gives a mandate — “Don’t say you’re in love/Until you learn to take me apart” — on the way to another burst of double time and a dreamy, satisfied coda.

Desire and distance, heat and cool course through Kelela’s album. It’s a digital phantasm, a matrix of synthetic sounds enfolding countless tracks of Kelela’s vocals. Yet for all its electronic metamorphoses, the goal it achieves is intimacy, as Kelela whispers and coos about all the shifting modalities of getting close to someone. She makes sure that virtuality leads back to physicality.

Image Kelela’s debut full-length album is “Take Me Apart.”

The album arrives after lengthy preliminaries. Alongside performers like FKA twigs, SZA and Tinashe, Kelela (whose last name is Mizanekristos) was part of a wave that was called future R&B when she released a mixtape in 2013, “Cut 4 Me.” It announced her alliances with producers associated with the Night Slugs label in England and the similarly minded Fade to Mind label in Los Angeles, who favor subterranean bass tones, abstract syncopations and gaping spaces. Her 2015 EP “Hallucinogen,” with Björk’s frequent collaborator Arca joining her production stable, was more supple but no less spooky.