The real salubrity of the tune, though, isn't in its lilting piano chords, laidback shuffle, or glowing yet calm pads that spread out through the cracks in between. It isn't the beautifully heartfelt rendition of Stevie Wonder's original, or the way rippling harps amplify the powerful romance of the choruses. All of these would amount to a gorgeous but less remarkable track. No, Estornel's way (in this case) of hitting both emotiveness and uniqueness with force is the simple addition of those little rising sounds in the intro and bridge. They sound equal part human, equal part machine, with smooth, moderated psychedelia that could make people feel connected with each other as much as it made them feel free and ecstatic. Maybe the main argument for the staying power conjecture is the way that despite their simplicity—just two sounds—they're untiringly interesting. Not just in their texture or the way they seem to converse with each other, but even in the theoretical details (it's five against four stretched over five bars).
Zev turns it into a tracky groover with weightier drums and a restrained, muted acid bassline, along the lines you'd expect from the Wolf + Lamb man. Wisely, it doesn't attempt to steal the limelight, instead channelling the energy from the parts into being as laidback as possible, and it does well as a result.