The dark joy of a disco beat and an undulating synth bass line. Vocals of excellent control, in some places delicate, in some places snarling. The instruments are fantastically orchestrated, something I just take for granted in Arcade Fire songs.

I've spoken about this trick before, but here is another fine example: The switching between the major and minor of the same chord. It worked in "The Fool On the Hill," setting off the verse and chorus from each other. And here the main hook "Down on your knees, begging us please, praying that we don't exist," uses the shift to major to minor (and it always seems to be in this order) to convey some sense of deflation, some loss of confidence. It's such a curious effect, I can understand why so many songwriters dabble with it.

This is a song about a young man coming out of the closet to his dad. The language is generalized, with homosexuality (or etc.) not mentioned, so that these lyrics can apply to about any situation where someone demands to be acknowledged. Why must they be acknowledged? Because, simply, they exist. They cannot not exist. It's reality. I bring this up because this encapsulates a vital kernel of wisdom: That we must all, in era of thirst for purities of all kinds, learn to accept that the ones we view as impure will never magically disappear. We cannot feel enabled to filter out our macro-criteria undesirables like some OK Cupid compatibility search. Our internet allows each of us to descend into a hyper-personalized single-occupancy realm. Through it, we subject ourselves to daily self-radicalization, plodding private labyrinths, bull-headed. But we each wander within a myth.