This album isn’t about the final step in Justin Timberlake’s move away from his boy-band past. It’s not about a pop idol returning to reclaim his throne. It’s not a statement of sexual liberation or a collection of smartly written songs.
FutureSex/LoveSounds is about nothing more than hormones and killer grooves, and that’s pretty fucking awesome. Ol’ JT should never really be forgiven for his part in either “Pop” or the possibility of any future releases from JC Chasez, but halfway through listening to “My Love,” there’s no way you’re gonna care. This album is one of the few that will tempt Attic patrons into the Dome. Focusing on tight production that lays off obvious hooks, the album thrives by blowing off the usual pop formats.
For an example of this, look no further than the fact that not a single song on the album clocks in at under four minutes. (Two tracks even exceed seven minutes in length.) Each track is also dripping with more sleaze than a15-year-old-boy’s hard drive. Timberlake apparently has a few fans in the female camp and has decided that’s pretty much all he wants to talk about anymore. Well, it works. All of a sudden it’s not totally crazy to have Timberlake hanging out right next to Tortoise in your CD rack. In fact, it might even be cool.