Music

On “Flame,” Timberlake repeats the refrain, “Remember, ‘member, ‘member when you said/ You’d love me ’til I die, love me, love me ’til I die?,” as if a change of heart has driven him mad, and dredging up past commitments might spare him from devastation. “Flame” never properly coalesces around that hurt, although a bridge midway through provides a nifty changeup by accentuating the piano in the mix.

Part of what made FutureSex/LoveSounds so exciting upon its release was how some of its biggest hits expanded beyond pop-song runtimes, their hooks refracted in new directions, as tracks like “What Goes Around…” and “LoveStoned” were deconstructed in daring manners. “Technicolor,” which stretches past the seven-minute mark, harkens back to that model, as Timberlake takes a typically suave R&B song and then shakes it up, with a quickened pulse and sleek passion, on the song’s more dynamic second half.

The most low-key lead single that Timberlake has ever released, “Selfish” both introduced the album’s back-to-basics aesthetic upon its release, as well as served as a bit of a red herring for a full-length full of dance fare. The warmth of “Selfish” is constructed to grow on the listener, and perhaps nod toward adult contemporary audiences; either way, the single demonstrates a maturation of Timberlake’s approach, where a quiet slice of jealousy is still wholly polished and aimed at the mainstream.

A sharp turn away from the confidence brimming on a majority of the album, Timberlake sounds downright forlorn on “Alone,” a post-breakup piano ballad in which he glumly admits, “Mеmories are the worst right now/ In my mind we’re still dancing/ To a song that we can’t make out.” The stripped-back approach plays out nicely on the back half of the album, although some of the heartbroken metaphors don’t quite land; “Alone” is at its peak when Timberlake is muttering the title like he’s just realized that’s where he now finds himself on the song.

A sex jam full of Timbaland hallmarks (right down to his introductory “Uh!”), “What Lovers Do” hums, bumps and whirs, recalling the producer’s signature moments while never putting pressure on itself to surpass his high points. For his part, Timberlake sounds especially animated here, embracing every innuendo and slowing down his tender crooning to match the track’s woozy final minute.

After a few dance cuts on the track list, Timberlake carves out some space for the instrumentation to breathe on “Love & War,” a falsetto-heavy toast to complex devotion that comes close to torch song territory. The drums thud and warped voices echo in between lines like “Baby, it’s you/ You’re the only one that I fight for,” as Timberlake pulls back the reins a bit; “Love & War” is technically impressive, even as it’s designed to let you catch your breath.

Most of the tracks on Everything I Thought It Was are considerably shorter than those of, say, The 20/20 Experience… but if Timberlake busts out “Play” on his upcoming arena tour, he’s gotta extend the horn-filled outro and let the groove get in a little longer, right? Before he breaks it down, Timberlake unwinds on “Play,” following the bass line while waxing poetic on some much-needed R&R and harmonies crash in to amplify his sly flirtations.

Unlike previous album openers, which Timberlake has used to pull the curtain up on a new sound and era, “Memphis” kicks off Everything I Thought It Was with an origin story, full of heavy expectations that are placed on a young JT’s shoulders and delivered in a clear-eyed sing-rap. “Memphis” is effectively revealing — particularly during a rapped bridge in which Timberlake cops to some of his missteps — but almost too restrained musically, with only a steady beat and whooshing effects anchoring his admissions.

A few songs before the much-ballyhooed *NSYNC reunion on the track list, Timberlake serves up a track that sounds beamed in from boy-band days of yore: “Imagination” is pure, delicious bubblegum, with JT playing the role of heartthrob promising to exceed your expectations and change your life (with, presumably, high-pitched arena shrieks as an acceptable response). “Imagination” makes for a fun, frothy throwback, especially for those still spinning the similar themes of “Girlfriend” on repeat.

“No Angels” finds Timberlake firmly in his “Rock Your Body” pocket, zipping in and out of a disco-funk showcase and tossing out refrains before hunkering down on a chorus that declares, “Therе ain’t no angels here on the dance floor.” The way that JT collapses his syllables here, allowing the assonance of a line like “Just a little more time, a little unwinding” to roll off his tongue, demonstrates the charisma that he can effortlessly deploy on an uptempo track like this.

Timberlake ends Everything I Thought It Was with a heavy dose of self-reflection, as “Conditions” looks in the mirror over blown-out synths and unassuming guitar licks, and preaches resilience through tests of character. Supporters and critics alike will interpret “Conditions” as a key into the psyche of a superstar, but Timberlake, singing his confessions quietly and earnestly, sounds like he simply wants to bring his flaws into the sunlight, and for onlookers to glimpse his humanity.

A veteran American artist trying to ride the 2020s Afrobeats wave could very easily come across as cringey, but “Liar,” Timberlake’s new collaboration with Nigerian superstar Fireboy DML, succeeds by finding a common ground between the two pop generations: Fireboy croons come-ons (“I’m tryna hold you like a conversation,” he winks) while Justin matches his charisma over a beat that flickers and makes room for some well-placed “woo”s. The result is an album highlight that’s not hard to imagine leaping onto top 40 radio this summer.

The disco throb of “My Favorite Drug” lasts for five minutes, but it will take you less than that to add this kinetic standout to your favorite uptempo playlist. Timberlake is absolutely in his master-of-ceremonies zone here, flaring up on the chorus, letting the starry-eyed synths work their magic, including the listeners on the breakdown and puffing his chest on the outro; he knows that “My Favorite Drug” exists in his pop superstar sweet spot and maximizes every inch of it.

Timberlake has made plenty of dance music in the past (and plenty more across Everything I Thought It Was), but there’s something delightfully mean about “Fuckin’ Up the Disco,” a sneer that Timberlake can’t shake while trying to conjure boogieing from his masses. Co-produced by Calvin Harris, the track bares its teeth and then attacks on the post-chorus, in which nearly every phrase is repeated and JT’s voice is warped to make the entire ordeal more intoxicating.

For Man of the Woods apologists who enjoyed that album’s experimental streak, you are seen — and “Sanctified,” a fuzzed-out hymnal featuring best new artist Grammy nominee Tobe Nwigwe, locates an itch that you didn’t know Timberlake could scratch. A platform for righteous braggadocio — Timberlake talks his trash and asks for holy forgiveness amidst gospel-adjacent hooting and hollering, before a searing guitar solo and Nwigwe’s possessed flow take charge — “Sanctified” paints with bold new colors for Timberlake, gesturing at the rock and country crossovers on his previous album while also cooking up a more satisfying product.

Although *NSYNC officially returned last year with “Better Place,” their first single in over two decades, from the Trolls Band Together soundtrack, this new reunion track “Paradise” contains more personality, understands the quintet’s vocal dynamic more succinctly and is simply a more successful song. The hooks invite clap-alongs, while some of the strongest lyrical moments — “All this time I’ve always wondered if it would feel the same/ As it did when we were young and not afraid” — reflect on the group’s shared history in a manner that’s touching without being overly saccharine.

When Timberlake talks about using Everything I Thought It Was as an artistic palette cleanser that returns his sound back to what fans want from him (and what he wants for himself), it’s hard not to think of a song like “Drown,” which combines some of JT’s strongest talents — lip-smacking rhythmic pop hooks, crestfallen metaphors, vulnerability curdling into a yearning falsetto — in a new, absorbing package. Bonus points for a bridge with enough romantic roads not taken to fill a sequel to Past Lives.

Is “infinity sex” the natural extension of FutureSex? We’ll never know for certain, but this dance floor filler, co-produced by Timbaland, dazzles with the same triumphant energy as Timberlake’s second solo album: sweeping strings, tongue-clicking percussion and a bass line that demands movement soundtrack an ode to immediate pleasure, future be damned. “Infinity Sex” contains some of Timberlake and Timbaland’s time-honored moves, but the formula still works, including the rap breakdown that puts a bow on this affair.