By Max Hill
Artist: Justin Timberlake
Album: The 20/20 Experience
Justin Timberlake makes it look easy. He oozes charisma and charm with what seems like little to no effort, and his appeal seems to stretch endlessly: It’s hard to think of anyone besides Timberlake whom out-of-touch sweater-knitting grandmothers and lattesipping Williamsburg bohemians can agree on.
At the heart of The 20/20 Experience — an album that substitutes the stark modernity of 2006’s FutureSex/LoveSounds for 70s-style rhythm and soul — is Timberlake, whose versatile vocals and irresistible conviction anchor even the most experimental and exploratory sections of the album. Whether he’s channeling Al Green on “Suit & Tie” or waxing poetic on album standout “Blue Ocean Floor”, Timberlake’s vocals never misstep.
The album marks the longawaited return of Timberlake, following a six-year hiatus wherein the singer pursued acting and internet entrepreneurship. It also marks a comeback for producer and pop music royalty Timbaland. The duo’s musical partnership has never been stronger: On “Tunnel Vision”, Timbaland flirts with electronica blips and vocal samples, whereas single “Mirrors” is a return to the lush, dramatic production which we’ve come to expect from the producer.
The 20/20 Experience will surely earn more than its fair share of detractors: song lengths average at about seven minutes, and tend towards slow, insistent grooves rather than sugary, immediate hooks. Timberlake’s lyrics haven’t improved, either; they don’t distract, but at best they amount to the creative equivalent of a
14-year-old’s Tumblr account. But as a whole, The 20/20 Experience is the perfect distillation of ever ything we love about Justin Timberlake. His enthusiasm is palpable and infectious, and it makes this expansive and potentially overstuffed album feel balanced and, at its best, ethereal.
Artist: The Strokes
Album: Comedown Machine
Dear The Strokes,
What happened? Your songs got me through high school. They mended my broken heart and helped me complete countless mixtapes. Sure, your angst-ridden faux-apathetic lyrics were never great, and lead singer Julian Casablancas’ bitter drawl verged on Rage Against the Machine levels of over-saturation on more than one occasion.
But it was real between us: The songs were honest and seemed to be able to tell me more about what being a teenager was really all about than any teacher or parent or afterschool special ever could. I even shelled out $50 so I could buy the UK pressing of Is This It, the one with the ass on the cover and the alternate track list.
Your music made me feel alive like nothing else did, and listening to it six years down the road — having substituted tee shirts for sweater vests and acne cream for shaving cream — it still holds up.
So where did it go wrong between us? Was it the second half of your third record, First Impressions of Earth, which somehow managed to sound both more bloated and more empty than anything that had come before? Was it Angles, whose songs sounded even more impersonal than the email correspondence through which the album was written? Or were the signs always there, even if I didn’t want to see them?
Comedown Machine is your weakest effort yet: those A-ha style synths and Duran Duran guitars were lame 30 years ago, and they’re lame now. Julian still can’t sing falsetto, and he spends most of the album sounding distant, tired and completely unenthusiastic. Maybe it’s not coincidence that this matches my reaction when listening to this record.
The songs are just plain bad, and the occasional half-hearted guitar solo or snicker-inducing lyric aren’t enough to save this train wreck.
I’m sorry, The Strokes, but I don’t think things can continue between us. It’s clear your hearts just aren’t in it anymore. You made one essential album and one great one, and that’s more than most bands can say. My advice would be to quit while you’re — well, not ahead — but at least before you manage to make another album as mind-numbingly boring and painfully disappointing as Comedown Machine.
With love.
Artist: Yo La Tango
Album: I can Hear the Heart Beating as One
There’s an interesting challenge when it comes to writing critically about something that you feel a deep, personal connection to.
“Damage” is the song I listened to after breaking up with my longterm girlfriend; “Autumn Sweater” was the first track on the best mixtape I ever made; songs like “Center of Gravity” and “Spec Bebop” helped get me into bossa nova and noise rock, which I might never have found otherwise.
The songs on this album are inextricable from my own personal experiences, and it feels unfair to review them under the guise of unbiased objectivity. I Can Hear the Heart Beating as One is, absolutely, one of my desert island albums.
What lead guitarist Ira Kaplan, drummer Georgia Hubley and bassist James McNew accomplish with this album is astonishing. I Can Hear the Heart Beating as One is one of the most varied albums in the history of rock music: the band experiment with Neil Young-style folk, shoegaze, ambience, noise pop and old fashioned rock ‘n roll across 16 tracks. The 70-minute runtime is more beneficial than bloated; there are few albums so expansive and multifaceted as this one that still leave me wanting more.
To me, the album’s best quality is its distinct and aching sense of intimacy. Songs like “Autumn Sweater” and “Damage” capture something sublime and intangible about being young, awkward and in love, whereas “Shadows” and “Green Arrow” are quiet, contemplative sanctuaries amidst the album’s louder, more dynamic tracks.
As capable as they are in their slower numbers, Yo La Tengo also make a fantastically noisy rock band, and it would be a mistake to presume that all of the album’s strongest points are in its quieter, more solitary moments. Tracks like “Sugarcube” and “Deeper Into Movies” are perfect songs to blast on a summery day with the car windows rolled down, and 10-minute jam session “Spec Bebop” is a perfect showcase for the trio’s talent as instrumentalists and for their creative chemistry. These three are always perfectly in sync, and it’s the reason their songs are so great.
But even though I love each song for completely different reasons, the album hits me the hardest when it turns the volume down and chooses composure over cacophony. Ira and Georgia’s tender, whispery vocals — especially when they sing together — along with the band’s talent for minimalistic song structures are what stand out to me, and ultimately make I Can Hear the Heart Beating as One one of maybe 10 albums that on any given day I might call my very favourite.
