Album review: Justin Timberlake, The 20/20 Experience

Having squeezed as much as he can out of pop stardom, JT is determined to be seen as an Entertainer. From the orchestral flourish that opens the album Experience, to the framing device of harmony-soaked soul groove That Girl – which introduces JT & The Tennessee Kids, his orchestra – to the suiting (Tom Ford, natch) and epic average track length (seven minutes), everything about The 20/20 Experienceseems tailored to reframe Justin Timberlake as timeless, his transformation from the jheri-curled teen idol to pop innovator nearly complete.

Unlike his previous two solo albums, there’s very little darkness to 20/20. Songs like Cry Me A River and What Goes Around… are fabulously nasty, and even happier moments like ‘My Love’ had a sense of danger. It’s hard to find interesting ways to sing about total contentedness –the newlywed Timberlake’s approach is all-out adoration, and it works. Future-funk and soul – Prince via The Love Below – thread through the fun grooves of the mid-album tracks about moon sex and bubblegum. The arena-ballad strings and luminous close harmonies on Mirrors challenge his peers to make a bigger, better love song – it’s possibly the best straight-up Top 40 love song since Halo, perhaps as much about music itself as his bride. It’s the second-last track, with the draggy beauty of Blue Ocean Floor ending the album on an aching, modern note (but for one final sweep of Hollywood violin).

Don’t Hold The Wall is a sinuous dancefloor seduction, and with its snare-prickled bass and humid ambience, it’s Timbaland’s best production in years. Like Usher’s Climax, it doesn’t drop as hard on the chorus as pop listeners are conditioned to expect these days; ‘restrained’ is not the first word that comes to mind when one thinks about a seven-minute R&B track, but restrained it is.

The most satisfying thing about 20/20 is the way it clearly fits into the JT mythology. There are callbacks to his best work: Mirrors uses the same drag-stomp beatboxing as Cry Me A River, contrasting its besotted glow starkly with the earlier single’s bleak, bitter recrimination, as JT ensures she definitely knows all the ways he loves her this time; and Tunnel Vision recalls LoveStoned/I Think She Knows in its combination of swirling, laser-focused production and willing surrender to desire. If Justified was a hoodie and FutureSex a sharp, shiny suit, then 20/20 is a vintage tux with purple silk lining and something up the sleeve.

Self-indulgent? Of course it is. Spectacularly so.