House of Music

Justin Timberlake

Everything I Thought I Was

Release Date: March 15, 2024

Label: RCA Records

Review by Arik Ruiz

One could almost feel sympathy for Justin Timberlake as he attempts a return, having been redefined as the villain in two major pop culture injustices. His career survived the 2004 Super Bowl incident, where he tore off Janet Jackson’s clothing, yet it was she who faced the backlash. The cultural misogyny of that moment is now undeniable, as is the treatment of Britney Spears after their 2002 breakup, when she was vilified as unfaithful and subjected to relentless, invasive scrutiny. In her 2023 memoir, she presented a different narrative, claiming Timberlake had cheated and pressured her into an abortion, even describing a painful home procedure she had to endure to avoid public notice, while Timberlake played his guitar nearby in a misguided attempt to comfort her. (He publicly apologized to both women in 2021.) Add to that the disastrous reception of his 2018 album *Man of the Woods*—a misguided back-to-nature concept album—and you have a pop career in full-on pariah mode. Timberlake’s new release *Everything I Thought It Was* feels less like a typical comeback and more like a desperate fight for survival.

Timberlake seems to be fully aware that he’s on the defensive. Notably, he’s given no interviews, aside from a few soft TV appearances, though he did briefly strike back in February. After Britney Spears apologized for offending those she “genuinely cares about” with her memoir and praised Timberlake’s melancholically seductive comeback single, *Selfish*, he addressed a crowd with a defiant: “I’d like to take this opportunity to apologize to absolutely fucking nobody.” In an era where pop stars are expected to demonstrate contrition and personal growth, the prospect of a full-on heel turn was both unexpected and tantalizing.

And the first song on Timberlake’s sixth album hints that the record will tell his story, his way. Titled Memphis after his hometown, it’s a defeated slump through all he’s endured to get here: the loneliness, the exhaustion, the pain, everything he was told was worth it for the money and cars, for being “the one that’s chosen to make it out”. Burbling synths and a dragging beat flicker behind him, hinting at vulnerability (though your sympathies may falter when he laments a time when he was fixated on “too much kitten, ass and titties”). You’d be interested to hear where Timberlake might go with this – and without unduly defending him, 20 years ago he was most likely almost as powerless as Spears, acting from a macho playbook given to him by cunning executives. But it’s a complete feint – the rest of Everything I Thought It Was is uniformly about universal matters of lust and love, with no shortage of kitten, ass and titties.

It’s undoubtedly the right move for Timberlake. With little chance of reclaiming the narrative, his best option is to focus on creating undeniable bangers. For nearly half of this excessively long album, he comes close. Two Calvin Harris co-productions—*Fucking Up the Disco* and the smoother *No Angels*—offer a slick take on the disco sound that helped him land his biggest hit in years, *Can’t Stop the Feeling!* from *Trolls*. The R-rated lyrics ensure any thoughts of King Peppy and Lady Glittersparkles are quickly forgotten. *Play*, co-produced by Ryan Tedder, follows suit, with playful horns and a winding chorus that makes it feel like Timberlake’s sliding down a gilded bannister. But the two later disco tracks, produced by album regulars Louis Bell and Cirkut, don’t measure up: *My Favorite Drug* is so frenetic, it’s hard to tell if the “drug” in question is speed, not, you know, sex.

The sexy lyrics here are less cringeworthy than the awkward “pink” and “purple” lines of *Man of the Woods*, though still on the ludicrous side. On *Infinity Sex*, a Timbaland production, Timberlake sings about a lady’s hips “making me hypnotized,” and praying “this hotel room is insured”—a line that sounds ridiculous but, somehow, the magnetic strut makes it work. *Technicolor*, another Timbaland track, milks its concept of a vivid physical connection, yet it’s a solid, breathless slow-jam that allows Timberlake’s falsetto to shine, all while subtly acknowledging the fleeting nature of those vibrant “colors.” There are also well-placed, simpler moments: *Liar*, featuring Afrobeats star Fireboy DML, aims for the global crossover success of tracks like Rema and Selena Gomez’s *Calm Down*, and their airy vocals blend seamlessly. *Alone*, a heartbroken ballad, pares things back to just Timberlake’s voice and elegant, swooping strings, showcasing a more vulnerable side.

If the album were trimmed down to 10 tracks instead of 18—many of which could lose a couple of minutes each—Timberlake’s musical redemption might feel more like a home run. But as it stands, it inevitably sags. *Selfish*, with its limp energy, was a strange choice for a comeback single. *Flame* and *Drown* both offer similarly uninspired takes on emotional turmoil. *What Lovers Do* is a generic, lascivious Timbaland cut, featuring the unforgettable (and uncomfortably suggestive) line about Timberlake being “ready to go all the time.” The weary, hopeful closer *Conditions* ends with Timberlake dragging out a tedious “you are love”—presumably aimed at his wife, Jessica Biel, for sticking with him despite his flaws.

The worst song on the album is likely intended as the next chapter in Timberlake’s redemption arc: the cloying acoustic ballad *Paradise*, which features his old boyband *NSync. The group reunited at a Timberlake concert this week and has new music on the way. The track feels like a collective reflection, with the five men singing about waiting for their moment and pondering, “if it would feel the same as it did when we were young and not afraid.” There’s a sense that a return to innocence is within their grasp—after all, nostalgia is Teflon, and Timberlake, despite everything, will likely come out just fine.