Lawrence's latest for Dial, Miles, is not like that. Like so many of the outstanding 12-inches of the last while, this is a record that has forgotten most everything but the melody. The beats here take back stage, getting the job done but not going on about it. B-side "Icicled Dance" is a study in control, but it leaves on the same static note it came in on. More dynamic is the shortened version of "Miles" that finishes out the flip, but there's little point in including it when the sublime longer version graces the top of the disc.
"Miles" is the outright stunner here. A few shreds of synth and a few polite but poised snares preface the kick. From there, the cold, warm, intimate and breathless melody unfurls, plunging further and further into itself with luxury, never pausing but never hurrying. "Miles" is that rare track that doesn't try for a second to telegraph what it's doing by wearing a badge on its sleeve, but rather just does it. I could swim in its pool to no end.