Lovesexy
Justin Timberlake isn’t just another pretty face
by Holly Gleason
There’s no real trick in the centrifugal force of teen pop: catch the wave and hang on. But when the tide ebbs, the jagged rocks of the washout can provide a painful and inevitable awakening. When it’s over—even for the talented—usually the ride is done. But that’s what sets Justin Timberlake, a teen idol who evoked Michael Jackson’s moves and sweet R&B, apart.
Timberlake was the cute one, the one who reduced the shrieking girls to quivering masses of throbbing hormones. But he rose from the ashes of boy-band supernova ’N Sync intact, then continued—through savvy producer choices, an intrinsic sense of melody and groove and the deep South of Memphis love of soul music—to create a place at contemporary pop’s forefront.
Today, Timberlake, 26, doesn’t just define Contemporary Hit Radio and music videos—he’s his own man. And not just a guilty pleasure, but a serious hip-hop/soul-based artist—someone who’s garnered the kind of respect ’N Sync could never aspire to.
His quick-cut grainy noir videos, especially the carnal intrigue of “SexyBack,” evoke an amalgam of Madonna’s “Justify My Love” and James Bond; his beats cut together with a sophisticated, effortless knowledge.
Justified, with its almost defensive name play, was a killer evolution on Jackson’s coming-of-age pop-confection Off the Wall. Like the lead freak of the supremely gifted but weird Jackson family, Timberlake knew he had plenty of preconceptions to overcome.
The result is a user-friendly survey of Latin rhythms, hip-hop beats, airy soul and possibly the most innocently and overtly sexual want ever articulated.
To shed the bopper-dom hairshirt, Timberlake smartly chose The Neptunes, Timbaland, P. Diddy and a thematic swerve between the fabulous player on the make and a bruised heart. Justified boasted the lush betrayal of “Cry Me a River,” the churning synthesizer-columned “Rock Your Body” and the straight up catch-and-release “Take Me Now,” featuring no stranger to the urban(e) erotic jungle, Janet Jackson.
Hiring the right producers and mining the fantasy life of youth-gone-wild may make for an engaging first project, but the measure of the man comes from how he steps up once the cred is established. To Timberlake’s credit—and wisdom—he sought broader horizons for Future Sex/Love Sounds.
Again working with the most of-the-moment collaborators, Timberlake delves deeper into erotics, landing somewhere between Marvin Gaye’s most sanctified sex and Prince’s unabashed nastiness. A whistle-stop through the masters of funk ’n’ soul—Stevie Wonder, Michael Jackson, a dash of Roger Troutman—show the boy is not just a man, but a man in full.
“Sexy Ladies” and “Damn Girl” give libido crack-cocaine’s jolt, while “Summer Love” offers up the smooth plunge. Taken as bookends for the herky-jerky phased vocalizing of “SexyBack,” this offers the polemics of a modern lover set on the hot pink center of carnality.
His voice has grown gravelly, but it retains its shimmer, maintaining his stone R&B polish, but with just a note of musk to the mix. Timberlake knows what he’s got, replacing the earnest plea to “like me” in Justified with a relaxed confidence, even on the painful junkie’s lament “Losing My Way.”
Timberlake has done anything but. In a world of indulged excess, he refused to accept what could be easy, holding out for something more credible. In keeping with cultural kinetics, he emerges as sexy—back, front and center.
Comments (0)