Kevin Parker didn’t exactly vanish from the studio after his group, Tame Impala, debuted its 2012 masterpiece, “Lonerism.” Despite rumblings from side project Melody’s Echo Chamber and vigorous touring, however, Parker’s emergence as one of the most promising rock and electronic figures in music was somewhat stale by the start of 2015. Then Tame Impala—which for all intents and purposes belongs to Parker as completely as the “Pet Sounds” Beach Boys belonged to Brian Wilson—released “Let it Happen,” a stunning, somehow simultaneously accessible and experimental 8-minute odyssey. The track, which succinctly addresses Parker’s recording reclusion, works equally well as an intimate psychedelic exploration and a Daft Punk-esque banger. In short, it’s a stunning reemergence.

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While Parker’s verses suggest the pressures of touring, critical expectation, and even disappointing his mother, neither his tone nor the pace is ever panicked. “All this running around / I can’t fight it much longer / Something’s trying to get out / And it’s never been closer,” Parker sings in a disarmingly mellow tenor. Instead of panicking about the necessity to create and impress, “Let it Happen” breezes by, a steady drum beat buoying Parker’s titled refrain. Tame Impala has often operated in muted emotional tones—frantic and angst-ridden lyrics balanced with lilting collages of synthesized and stringed upbeat (or at least not explicitly anguished) instrumentation. The band achieves the same dichotomy here, but it seems even more confusingly natural than on “Lonerism.” It’s clear that, despite the song’s lyrical anxiety, Parker knows he has everything under control.

He would be right to believe this. The song’s backing goes from little more than ancillary for its word-heavy first portion, to central for its percussive middle, to simply staggering for its harmonic fadeout. Most impressive is a section in the middle of the song where Parker incorporates 30 seconds of a single, repeated synth note. The pulsing, percussive reiteration is a far cry from accelerating and self-conscious mainstream EDM drops. When the drums build, the melody darkens and a modulated version of the main synth line bursts forth from the drone without any quickening of tempo. Despite its simplicity, the swell is just as exhilarating as any more complex instrumental coda. The last two minutes of the song, which find Parker harmonizing with himself gorgeously and unintelligibly over an emergent counter-melody, seems like braggadocio. Given his meticulous production and songcraft, its hard to believe Parker can be taking his own meditative advice. If he is simply skating along, however, he may be capable of practically anything.