The more distinctive versions here make their mark by foregrounding the gap between Anderssen's original vocal and their own newly-added material. Martyn's dubstep jam is a prime example: The vocal doesn't precisely fit, meaning you can tell right away that it's a remix, but the disjunction between voice and beats actually gives the track a bit more of an edge, in comparison to, say, Nic Chacona's take, which is straightforward dreamy-housey dance floor glitz. CSS also attempts to re-fit the entire tune, transforming it into some slow-mo cosmic funk that finds its groove once the 808 claps get flurrying, while Troxler also goes for the same glitzy minimal house as Chacona but pushes the vocal into a weirdly disorienting, arrhythmic space atop the beat.
Mr. Dettmann's on board for two takes here, ostensibly so he could have enough room to accommodate his varied interests. One is a speechless, driving minimal techno banger, and the other, called "Voice In My Head mix," is up there with Karin's own work in terms of inspired weirdness, taking nothing other than a heavily filtered vocal loop—wispy and ghostlike—and threading it across a bare and warbly beat. It pushes the envelope in its own way, as do Crookers, whose skittery, hyperactive electro workout takes flight once it sheds a series of repetitive vocal loops. (It subsequently lifts off into several minutes of what sounds like a rotary phone dogfighting a demonic air horn.) Ultimately, these two versions are the EP's standout WTF? moments, reflecting Fever Ray's own taste for novel, unpredictable productions.