Why I Love This Song: "Call Your Girlfriend"

Thirty-six hours ago, I was unaware that Robyn's "Call Your Girlfriend" existed, but a fellow member of the Philadelphia Sports Internet Club, Mark Magowan, posted a video of Saturday Night Live's Taran Killam doing a pastiche of the dance from the original music video. I watched it, and when I spent the next evening driving through the night from my home in Madison, Wisconsin, to Columbus, Ohio, I pulled up Spotify on my phone and listened to this song about 25 times, headbanging and fist-pumping my way down I-70 like a Germanic synth-pop version of Tony Hale in the iconic Volkswagen commercial.
I am not a Robyn fan. I've been aware of her existence for some time, but before Thursday night, I had never listened to a single second of any of her original compositions. The only time I'd ever heard her sing before this week was upon viewing her and Jenny Wilson's overtly cheeky and earnest piano cover of Saul Williams' "List of Demands."  And it was okay, but such an aggressive, angry political protest song loses something when two women from the socialist utopia that is Scandinavia do a cover version that would have been right at home as the B-side to "Let's Get Together" from the original Parent Trap. But I digress.
My life is now all about "Call Your Girlfriend." I love it. And here's why.

1. It starts with the chorus. Seven beats and then right in--no pretension, no buildup, just recognizing that you've got a great hook that's the emotional and melodic center of the song and going all-in pre-flop with it. 
2. For that matter, you could say that this song has two choruses--the "Call your girlfriend / It's time you had the talk..." that the song starts with, then the "The only way her heart will mend / Is when she learns to love again..." There's not a whole lot of buildup (which is not to say the song is devoid of dynamic contrast), but I absolutely adore the chorus and appreciate that this song just plays it over and over instead of watering it down with less interesting material. 
3. I really like the subject matter. It's advocating a straightfoward, elegant way of dumping your main squeeze for your side piece. Not that I advocate such things, but I imagine it's a complicated emotional situation that's boiled down, in "Call Your Girlfriend" to a very simple directive. It's like if Paul Simon hadn't promised 47 more ways to leave your lover than he could actually deliver.
4. The transition from the first chorus to the verse is the kind of transition that great pop songs are made of. Moving from the airy, spaced out chorus to a very rigid verse is a very kinetic, mechanical experience, like changing gears while driving--you can almost feel the beat shift, like it's dropping you from space into something regimented. 
5. Which leads into the real reason I love this song: the contrast between upbeats in the chorus and downbeats in the verses. It comes out in the video, how the dance moves from long, sweeping movements to short, stabbing movements. 

This is not a great piece of lyrical or musical composition, but it's a nice, tidy, kind of clever pop song, and done well, I like and respect that kind of songwriting just as much as any profound The National song characterized by a chorus in 9/8.