About the only thing in this compact, well-tailored song that I don’t like are the occasional whoops and cries in the background. Everything else is precisely right: what’s so impressive about this record is how finely balanced its elements are. (Yet another working definition of ‘good pop’, that.) The pace is galloping but not so fast that the vocals can’t stretch out a little, their hint of languor reminding us who’s in control in this chase. Steve Winwood shows what a meaty singer he is without overplaying the fact beyond the needs of the song. There are handclaps that soften the shock of the fuzz guitar, which slices neatly into the track and leaves before we’ve had enough of it.