Most of the critical reaction to Justin Timberlake’s new album, The 20/20 Experience, can be split into two camps – either OMG JT IS BACK or throwing rocks at the throne (because either it’s too weird, not weird enough or really unnecessary with the whole luxury vibe, etc).
With such a divide, a fair amount of reviewers haven’t talked about the music nearly as much as they should. This is unfortunate, as the album stands at the vanguard of 2013’s music so far. It also, to me at least, has a largely yet-to-be-discussed narrative arc to it. There is a story of a relationship communicated through sonics and album sequencing that speaks just as loud as the lyrics do.
This argument would probably fall apart if the album didn’t end with the curiously dark song “Blue Ocean Floor.” It comes on the heels of nine largely upbeat songs declaring everything from infatuation and lust to true love, and it throws a curveball into the album’s tone.
I’ll come back to that. Let’s start at the beginning, with “Pusher Love Girl.” That song’s symphonic opening lays the groundwork for a grand romantic profession. It flows through eight minutes equating, in an obvious but affecting metaphor, love with drugs. (Just to get it out of the way – the criticism of JT’s lyrics as being corny or simplistic is pretty much missing the point. I’d say, as they serve their function well. As a point of comparison, does anyone call Michael Jackson’s lyrics great?)
“Suit & Tie” and “Don’t Hold the Wall” are the first date(s) in the relationship. Our narrator states his intention to impress this woman with style and swagger in the former, and goes about trying to court her in a more sensual way in the latter. Maybe things go a little wrong and get a little dark in “Don’t Hold the Wall.” The music suggests a less grim/sleazy version of The Weeknd, where maybe he’s coming on a bit too strong or maybe she’s a bit too drunk/intimated. In any case, I feel like she chooses to hold the wall and cold-shoulder him rather than to dance, as he tries to exhort her.
The next few tracks – I’d say everything from “Strawberry Bubblegum” to “Spaceship Coupe” – are further attempts by the narrator to pin down his feelings for this woman he’s crushing on. These songs range from sexual come-ons (“Coupe”) to exclamations of how deep and real those feelings are (“Tunnel Vision”).
“That Girl” and “Let the Groove Get In” are two celebratory songs, where it seems like he gets the girl. He sells himself in “That Girl” over the album’s most traditionally R&B grooves, and he keeps the mood jubilant through the polyglot rhythms of “Groove,” a song that could make for some interesting remixes. It’s the engagement party of this love story.
Then we have “Mirrors.” I’d argue that this is the album’s best song, not to mention a future first dance soundtrack for more than a few newlyweds that might be adventurous enough to keep up with it. Going back to the issue of JT’s lyrics not being all that hot to some, I find “Mirrors” to be particularly well-crafted even if it isn’t necessarily breaking any new ground. Musically, it has everything you could want out of a Timberlake single in its first half. Then, it segues smoothly into an extended coda that some may find anticlimactic, but that I think it successfully embodies falling into the rhythms of love.
This is why the inclusion of “Blue Ocean Floor” is puzzling as the closer. JT and his producers, Timbaland (for whom this album is a much-welcome return to form) and J-Roc, have paid too much attention to sonic craft and sequencing for this song’s placement to be an accident. It has something of a “Cry Me a River” vibe to it but with none of that song’s slinky, pop aesthetic. It is about as strange a song as any that’s been featured on a mainstream pop/R&B record in recent memory. It’s fueled by a repeating series of backward-played synth notes and the sound of a button being pressed again and again to rewind a tape, topped with the most forlorn vocal take Timberlake’s ever recorded.
I have two theories regarding this track. One is that it’s chronologically far ahead of “Mirrors.” It takes place after the love story detailed in the previous nine tracks has fallen apart, he’s now looking back on what was as an elegy. Alternatively, it could depict a troubled time in that relationship, where things seem bleak, but the narrator pledges to stand by his lover even at the darkest, wildest moments.
Or I could be completely full of shit.
I’d hazard a guess that little to none of this was foremost in JT’s mind when he wrote the lyrics. But as he clearly aims to make his music universal in its reach and appeal, he’s too crafty an entertainer not to have put these particular songs together without a thought as to how they could be interpreted by listeners.
You can obviously enjoy the album with no thought whatsoever aimed to this convoluted, narrative possibility I’ve suggested. Based on its musical merits alone, it belongs on a fairly short list of the most creative pop records of the past 10 years, along with JT’s own Futuresex/Lovesounds and recent successes like Miguel’s Kaleidoscope Dream, Jessie Ware’s Devotion and Frank Ocean’s Channel Orange. But, it’d be foolish to think of it as an exercise in style over substance. There is depth here, I believe, and not only on that blue ocean floor.
Liam Green can be reached at lgreen@thoughtpollution.com.