Before its proper release today, “Honey” was a thing of legend—long-rumored and wondered-about after an early version of the track closed an episode of “Girls” a year and a half ago. That tease, and others, ignited the imaginations of Robyn’s fans, an unusually benevolent clique who are nonetheless used to hearing what they want to hear right fucking now: Soon enough, #ReleaseHoneyDammit became a slogan to rally around. But Robyn does not capitulate. She knows what she needs to do, and works on her time and no one else’s. It’s right there in this song’s opening lines: “No, you’re not gonna get what you need/But baby, I have what you want.”

So this “Honey” is not the same one from “Girls,” not quite. There’s more air, more room for her voice to echo and decay into the void. It’s still a Robyn Banger—a souped-up distillation of classic house’s bittersweet throb and wail—but its sights are set both further and deeper; instead of a perfect snapshot of a single tear on the dancefloor, “Honey” unfurls like a sweeping vista of desire. There is an undeniable lust here, powerful in its maturity. The Ohio Players and Mariah Carey have schooled us on the sexiness of honey, and metaphysical lines here about a flower “stuck in glitter strings of saliva” make you wonder what’s happening just outside of the frame on Robyn’s new album cover. “Honey” is also about the primal pleasure of music, of a bass-kick heartbeat that sounds like it’ll never stop. Robyn once again offers us immortality, at least for a few minutes.