When Ray of Light collaborator Rick Nowels spoke to Billboard in 2018 for the album’s 20th anniversary, he talked about writing nine songs with Madonna over the course of two weeks, three of which (“The Power of Goodbye,” “To Have and Not to Hold” and “Little Star”) ended up on the album (another one went to Italian singer Laura Pausini).

This is one of the remaining five, a previous unreleased demo that came out of what Nowels said was her directive to “prepare stuff either really radical or really beautiful… nothing in between.” “Gone Gone Gone,” a skittering yet mournful reflection on a dying love affair, skews toward the latter — though when stacked up against similar fare on the album, you can see why they left it off the tracklist. Still, it’s a worthwhile listen, and you can imagine how some additional studio wizardry and countermelodies may have turned it into something more substantial. — JOE LYNCH

Victor Calderone, whose career was catapulted to the next level thanks to his work with Madonna circa Ray of Light, brings a relentlessly rhythmic version of “Sky Fits Heaven” to Veronica Electronica that’s a far cry from the ambient, thoughtful electronica on the LP. It’s a revamped edit of the “Sky Fits Heaven” remix he created to serve as a B-side for the “Drowned World/Substitute for Love” single in 1998; the changes are slight but smart, making this version feel less tied to ‘90s rave. — J.L.

Austrian producer Peter Rauhofer, who’d go on to remix other Madonna songs including “American Life” and “Get Together,” takes on “Nothing Really Matters” under his Club 69 alias. This one is well-suited for the after hours as it chugs along as classic ’90s electronica, with Rauhofer, who sadly passed away from a brain tumor in 2013, occasionally clearing away the spicy, groovy production to make way for Madonna to declare “nothing really matters/love is all we need.” Beyond that, use of the vocals are limited to her repeating “the future… the future,” which this edit surely sounded like when it was created back in ’98. — KATIE BAIN

William Orbit brought a toolbox of influences to Ray of Light, helping Madonna make an album that wove in less obvious electronic subgenres like psytrance, flourishes of which are all over “Skin” alongside the Middle Eastern sounds (the galloping beat, a flute solo recorded by Ray of Light producer Marius de Vries while on vacation in Morocco) that he also delivered.

On the “Skin” edit, frequent Madonna remixers Victor Calderone and Peter Rauhofer largely do away with these elements, instead centering their take around a punchy three/four beat synth that’s essentially the electronic equivalent of jazz hands. This grabby, snazzy moment alternates between long ambient stretches that strip away the original’s warm glow production and put Madonna’s vocals at the fore.

A full minute shorter than the original, one of the “Skin” edit’s cooler moments comes at its end when the producers cut up the “kiss me” lyric into a stuttering request that, in a nod to electronica itself, sounds nearly robotic. — K.B.

After the potent rush of Veronica Electronica’s first five songs, “Frozen (Widescreen Mix and Drums)” begins the album’s cool-down period. Helmed by William Orbit, the song’s original co-producer, this version of “Frozen” isn’t radically different from the LP version, until it is – around the 2:25 mark, the familiar sequencing fades out and double-time drums kick in for an almost Twin Peaks-esque detour while a lonely horn murmur in the background.

It segues back into a slightly more cinematic version of the familiar edit, splitting the difference between two of the “Frozen” remixes that appeared on the original 1998 single – the “Widescreen Mix” and the “William Orbit Drumapella” version, ultimately bettering both. — J.L.

Sometimes you want a remix to just smash the original into pieces and rearrange them into something newer and weirder than one might have thought could be assembled. Fabien deftly accomplishes that here, turning the pulsing, lovelorn ballad “The Power of Goodbye” into a jerky, hypnotic edit that throws the kitchen sink at it by turning twinkling chimes, moody synths, an acid bassline, ambient riffs and more into a densely layered production so full of life and energy that it seems to actually breathe.

Smartly Fabienn, the producer born Fabieen Waltmann who passed away last year, keeps the track’s gorgeous string section, turning it into a bridge that maintains the emotional impact of the original while also thrusting it far further into the outer regions of electronica. — K.B.

In terms of serving as an introduction to Ray of Light’s odyssey-of-the-soul electronica, “Drowned World/Substitute for Love” is impossible to beat – but it’s not exactly a party starter. When it was released as an international single everywhere except for the U.S. in late 1998, BT, an American IDM pioneer, and Sasha, a Welsh pro on the live DJ scene, teamed up for a nine-minute revamp that remedied that. Veronica Electronica includes a new, five-minute edit of that “Bucklodge Ashram” remix, which emphasizes the syncopation, adds a sense of propulsion and turns introspection into a shared dancefloor experience. — J.L.

A common remixing convention is drawing tracks out well beyond their original length to create more space for experimentation and impact. Here, however, all-time dance god Sasha — a titan of the scene now and in ’98 when he made this remix and named it after the legendary NYC club where he was a resident — accomplishes as much as the original in roughly the same time, but in wildly different fashion. The Welsh producer trades out the shimmering guitar and swaps in layers of soaring synth and a persistent kickdrum, decisions that mitigate much of the original’s golden shimmer and whip up a punchier and sharper-edged mood.

But that’s not to say it’s less ecstatic. Smart enough to sidestep predictability, Sasha doesn’t use us the original’s “and I FEEL!” climax, cleverly only teasing it then instead masterfully piling up industrial percussion, whooshing builds, bubbly acid synths and loads of bright little cosmic flourishes for nearly five minutes, until the whole thing punches open into a same kind of blissed out electronic free-for-all that Orbit (who reportedly invited Sasha to do this mix) delivered on the original.

There’s of course no way, and no reason to try, to top “Ray of Light” — a perfect, culture-shifting, generational classic. This one simply shapeshifts it, escorting it out of the pop realm, into the progressive house genre and deeper into clubland without losing any of the the warmth, optimism, inventiveness or heart of the original. — K.B.