The Middle of Nowhere #10

Welcome back. I’ve been intrigued by the arcs of Justin Timberlake, the cool projection to the seemingly alien and the bridges that brought us here. After 10 years of The 20/20 Experience and 5 years removed from his middle aged catastrophe Man of the Woods, people figured his golden touch was exchanged for the green and counterfeit. I was skeptical of that neat packaging. So we explore the aura of Timberlake.

The Cool and The Uncool

Justin Timberlake is a perfectly constructed set of narratives and well-studied competency. Tracing back to the *NSYNC days, Timberlake slowly inches towards the limelight, from just another one of the guys to centerstage on the album covers at the start of the millennia. This isn’t a Sisqo-Dru Hill phenomenon where one man’s extravagance must take precedence. It’s a different brand of dominance; he’s got The Look, something not too distinct from his counterparts (look at the oafish Joey Fatone). He’s got the hits, the saccharine voice, the instincts as a songwriter and a salesman of believability and emotion. Being head honcho of a boyband isn’t exactly cool though.

To shake that teenybopper funk, Justin goes solo with prime Neptunes and Timbaland beats. His debut album Justified is one of the sleekest R&B albums of the millennia, Chad Hugo chords, Pharrell vibe curation, thick and chunky Timbaland drums tracking Justin’s sweet falsetto and deceptively heartbreaker bravado. It’s a superstar album for someone who deeply wanted superstar status. You could hear Justin work extremely hard to measure up to the task. Listen to any Usher/Neptunes leak at the time and you could add even more hits to Confessions. But there was JT trying to move with the level of gravity Usher did with ease. It’s not hard to imagine Michael Jackson scatting over The Neptunes records he was meant for on the album. “Last Night” is as close to MJ cosplay as you can get on the album. For as muscular as Justified is in the hit department, it’s empty in identity. But the songs were still strong enough to convince people Justin was cool.

Timberlake and Co. were incredibly tactful in how they navigate building his persona and being the master of narrative. The skepticism of a white pop artist in a Black space didn’t seem very strong; with a cosign from the right people, it’s a rite of passage. JT was essentially given the ‘you alright, white boy.’ When faced with the public drama in his publicized relationship with Britney Spears, he dropped the best diss song in music history, “Cry Me A River.” It’s a scorned, contemptuous nuclear bomb disguised as a breakup record, a filthy switch of victimhood designed with the intent of brutal victory rather than mourning. I’m inclined to think this was the catalyst for the wicked, ruthless treatment in media towards Britney. All the more cruel, Justin follows the song with “Rock Your Body” in the track list, as if to shrug off the affair in his quest for ultimate stardom.

Janet Jackson was a victim of Justin’s world conquering power around the same time. A year after Justified solidified his spot with the Ushers of the world, he performed with Janet at Super Bowl XXXVIII. Towards the end of “Rock Your Body,” he sleazily echoes, “Gonna have ya naked by the end of this song.” What was supposed to be an exclamation point to their scandalous and suggestive performance, Timberlake plainly rips a part of Janet’s costume, exposing her breast on the grandest stage. Janet takes the brunt of the criticism from the media, as if the wardrobe malfunction lied solely on her merits. Justin, in the immediate aftermath, shrugs it off as another point of publicity on Access Hollywood, “Hey man, we love giving you all something to talk about.” He’d eventually follow up with flat apologies for any offense taken. Regardless of his intention or the people steamrolled in the process, Justin was unscathed, mere casualties by the power he wielded being cool.

I don’t know that anyone who is best buds with Jimmy Fallon is cool though. Was Justin Timberlake powerful? Sure, absolutely. Anyone with his resources has innate advantages over the field. He had a vision for himself, but arguably more important, people with power had a vision for him. No matter how many mildly dorky Lonely Island skits, Shrek and Trollz voice acting gigs, or indistinct rom-coms he did, there was the machine with a new package to present the world. He could bring sexy back, he could duet with Beyoncé, he could even sell the commoner that they need to be on their suit and tie shit. Justin was invincible. Whether he was truly cool or not was moot. He could make people believe otherwise.

Five years removed from Justin Timberlake’s last album Man of the Woods, it lives as arguably the greatest trainwreck album of our lifetime. Even for the innate dorkiness in Justin, this is aggressive. Journalist and friend Dylan Green argued this was the album that cemented his ‘wife guy’ status. It’s certainly has that, almost anti-sensual, an album suffering from cabin fever. Justin sells sexiness here like a married man desperately flailing at spontaneity. Take “Filthy,” a middle aged tech dad’s “SexyBack,” where Justin sandwiches awkward slang in between lines like, “What you gonna do with all that MEAT?” He’ll also hide behind these woodsy, vaguely country Neptunes beats that signal the Minions soundtrack more than “Señorita.” Man of The Woods suggests a man without the slightest pulse on the current or any memory of his greater instincts. It begs the question of whether or not he was ever The Guy he sold to listeners.

Funnily enough, Timberlake most accurately reflects his performance in 2010’s The Social Network as Napster founder Sean Parker. When meeting Zuckerberg in the movie, he’s the charming grifter with the money and the salesmanship and the ambition to reach the next level. Side by side with real tech giants, Sean is closer to a charming huckster than innovative founder. The work hardly has to speak for itself if the sales pitch gets you in the door. Timberlake’s performance as Sean Parker feels startlingly natural and, given his standing in the larger music industry and his otherwise dicey acting skills, perhaps closest to his true character. Shutting out the noise for a moment and truly considering him, was Justin Timberlake ever truly cool? Probably not. But enough support, power, and a little luck, he could convince you otherwise.

The Cut

• We lose more history to the hyper capitalistic nature of modern America. We say goodbye to Spinrilla and we only know Datpiff through its remaining existence on the Internet Archive. The music industry has termites in its foundation, eating away at any artistic integrity until it is merely a transactional experience, an exchange of goods and services over an act of expression. The rise of AI, the cuts in writing platforms, it’s all disheartening. If I’m optimistic, this lays the grounds for a new set of industry standards. If I’m nihilistic, the things I love will be mined and extracted like an oil rig.
• Producer/DJ extraordinaire swoozydolphin’s latest mix left me with my mouth agape, muttering “how did he do it?” to myself. He’s incredibly creative in how he navigates genres and sounds, breaking the anatomy down of punk rock, footwork drums, 2000s R&B harmonies, and Florida raps. The Urban Surf tag is likely the best descriptor, a sky of blood oranges and purples that is part The Cure, part Kodak Black.
• The new Jim Legxacy mixtape homeless n — pop music is some of the most imaginative pop music we have today. The Afrobeat drums infused into “mileys riddim” or the emo angst in “old place” serve as rough edges to the soft, sweet harmonies in Legxacy’s voice. I love that he never settles into the easy mid tempo, always throwing an intriguing curveball in tempo or texture. Perfect soundtrack for this summer.
• The best rappers today hardly slump into a comfortable niche; rather, they mix distinct musical interests with inimitable style. Niontay’s new album Dontay’s Inferno is invigorating, acting as a spin-the-wheel kind of experimenting. “Thank Allah” has the fat bass lick and intensity of LA street raps, followed by the tropical, humid “Ain’t Shit” not unfamiliar in Kodak Black’s music. There’s a Speed Racer level whiplash on “06’ Micheal Redd” and a MF DOOM sense of animation on the MIKE assisted “Wheredeyat???” It’s a compelling exercise in navigating influences and how they all coexist.
• Pi’erre Bourne’s new EP/Mixtape thing Grails is a cavity-inducing set of hooks and lightweight pop rap verses. It’s occasionally overweight in its mix, he loves these chunky drums and stock loop guitars that can sound very 2007 in a way that can play cheap. Outside of the immediate leaks, it’s not a very fluid experience like the best Pi’erre records. At the core, however, is Pi’erre’s best chorus, symphonic in how he layers his vocals and adorable in its yearning.