Filed under: design of a decade, lists, music | Tags: 2003, cry me a river, design of a decade, justin timberlake
[In order to finish my decade-end song recap, I'd have to write two of these each day between now and New Year's Eve. I have a feeling I won't even make it through 2004...]
Something is sizzling. An operatic-sounding man is going “eeee-eeee-eeee-eeee.” Then the sound of, what, a meteor landing? The thirty seconds that open Justin Timberlake’s second solo single are strange and epic, and after hundreds of listens and seven years they’re no less strange and no less epic. The song builds and builds as it slinks along for almost four minutes before crashing down with a wave of falsetto histrionics and gospel choir.
Cry Me A River is, I think, perfect.
It’s perfect in the way that the Shangri-Las’ Remember (Walking In The Sand) and Lil Suzy’s Take Me In Your Arms are perfect, where human emotions we’ve all spent ages dwelling over are encapsulated in tight little songs that somehow seem even more mind-blowing than they are when we actually feel them. Sure, we’re supposed to believe that this song is about Justin’s breakup with Britney, and the song’s admittedly rather sexy video capitalized on that in a rather unfortunate way, but are you really thinking about Britney Spears when you hear this song?
No. No you are not. Because you are thinking about how crazy and wonderful this song is, how Timberlake manages to convey misery in falsetto without sounding like a whiny sissy (or Thom Yorke.) And we are thinking about Timbaland’s crazy wall of sound. And we are thinking about how we would all like to console Justin by laying his head in our bosoms. (Don’t deny it.)
There’s also the George Michael factor. Because while Timberlake got a lot of Michael Jackson comparisons for his vocal range, he actually had a lot more in common with George Michael circa 1987.
When Michael left Wham, he was a teen idol, carefree and boyish. But when he released Faith, his solo debut, he had become a man. Suddenly he was a lothario who sang about sex and wrote in lipstick on the backs of Asian women. He was a leather and Levi’s type playing guitar and hiding behind a very butch pair of aviators. He wanted to be your Father Figure. He suddenly had chest hair. And so on.
Timberlake was also a man now, albeit one who maybe wasn’t as multi-talented as Michael, who wrote and produced Faith all by himself in addition to singing and playing keyboards, bass and drums on the album. But listeners don’t really care about stuff like that. Why should they, when Timberlake had Timbaland to produce his album?
But Justin and George had a few other things in common. Both sold millions of copies of their album, and both were also hits with critics. Even more surprising, both were also successful on R&B radio, rare feats for white pop acts with little to no street credentials. (George Michael’s One More Try was actually the last #1 by a white male artist on the R&B chart until 2006.)
Of course, Michael followed up Faith with a retreat from the limelight, a fight with his label and ultimately a lot of soulless dance music. And Timberlake did Dick In A Box. Unlike George, Justin thrives in the limelight. And yet, seven years into his solo career, he’s only actually put out two albums. Timbaland and Timberlake tried to replicate the Cry Me A River magic on What Goes Around Comes Around a few years later, but that song lacked the craziness and sparkle. Perhaps time will tell if Justin (or the overworked Timbaland) will manage to pull anything this good off again.
[image: Justin by Steven Klein. I thought this photo was amazing when I first saw it in 2002. Now I'm not really sure why.]
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