Justin Timberlake at the Xcel Center - Photo by Andrea Myers
Living in Minneapolis, there are ample opportunities to see live music. But every now and then a large act blows through town with so much choreography, planning and polish that it stands out as more of an experience than a show. Saturday night was my first time seeing a full-fledged, high production pop-star perform live, and it will be forever lodged in my mind as my first Justin Timberlake Experience.
Having scored my tickets at the last minute, I had very few expectations going into the show, and since I was raised by two hippies, I have had comparatively little experience interacting with mainstream "pop" culture, so I thought I might use the evening to further my understanding of what pop music is at this moment in time. Over the last 10 years or so, I have watched the evolution of mainstream culture at an arm's length distance; I shrugged it off when MTV stopped playing music videos, I scoffed as a parade of blond divas took center stage and overshadowed solid songwriting or the proliferation of musicians who actually play instruments. But regardless of my personal distaste for what is happening to the corporation of pop music, the fact remains that our society enjoys this. Lots of people pay lots of money to purchase albums, iTunes singles, concert tickets and paraphernalia in support of what has narrowed down to a handful of cultural icons. Britney. Justin. Christina. Madge. We obsess over their personal lives, comment on their most recent scandals, and—oh, yeah—occasionally listen to their music.
I needed to get closer to this phenomenon. I was going in.
In order to prepare for my night out with Justin, I spent an inordinate amount of time in front of my bathroom mirror applying makeup, trying on different accessories and putting on the one shirt that I own that has a dangerously low neckline. I have no idea why I felt compelled to do these things, seeing as I was about to spend the evening sitting in the dark, but when I arrived at the Xcel Center I found myself among hordes of young women dressed similarly, many significantly more scantily clad than myself. We had all gathered for one purpose, JUSTIN, and I immediately found myself caught up in the excitement that was pulsing through the throngs of teens and twenty-somethings who were winding their way through the aisles of the massive Xcel Center and purchasing extremely tall glasses of beer.
As I took my seat and began sipping on my own extremely tall glass of beer, the lights dimmed over the gigantic stage and a handful of pre-Justin songs blasted out of the speakers. (Having spent the entirety of Pink's set waiting in the exit lane for Kellogg Boulevard, I arrived shortly before Timberlake's set began.) Energy buzzed through the room and swells of screams rose up around the room as the lights dimmed further and the band moved toward their instruments. Giant screens dropped down on all sides of the stage and a small hole in the middle of the stage dropped out as "FutureSex/LoveSounds" started up. Timberlake wasn't just going to come out and start singing. He was going to make an entrance. This excited me even more and I let out an involuntary shriek of my own.
After about five minutes of build up, the lights and sound suddenly cut out and the entire arena filled with screams. When the lights came up again, Timberlake was center stage, dressed in a tan suit and white tennis shoes, and he began making his way through "FutureSex/LoveSounds." It occurred to me that I had absolutely no idea what the words FutureSex/LoveSounds were supposed to mean, but it sounded fantastic regardless. I was seated up on the second tier, so at times it made it difficult to keep track of exactly where Timberlake was on the stage amongst his 10 dancers, four back-up singers and a handful of live musicians, but what I could see was that he and his fellow performers danced and ran around the stage so perfectly that their synchronized movements were mesmerizing.
Over the course of his roughly two and a half hour set, there were many things that I learned about Justin Timberlake and his mystique.
When Justin Timberlake needs to remove his sport coat, he can't just take it off all hum-drum like a normal individual. Roughly two songs in it became clear that Timberlake's jacket needed to come off; as he cavorted about, he occasionally placed his hands on his lapels and jerked at them repeatedly. The lapel jerking transitioned into a five minute freak-out that consisted of Timberlake alone in the middle of the stage dancing frantically and tugging even more at the lapels while his band jammed to a funky beat. Eventually, Timberlake's poor coat was finally pulled all the way off, and the entire arena responded with cheers that we could now watch him dance in his white button-up shirt and vest.
When Justin Timberlake instructs you to do something, you have no choice but to do it. "Are you having a good time, Minnesota?" Timberlake asked, and the fact that he remembered what state he was in seemed to ignite the crowd and cause great excitement. "We were just in Las Vegas... I think they were louder," Timberlake taunted, and the arena screamed so loudly that it felt like the roof might just blow off at any moment. Every time he told us to sing, raise our drinks or dance, there were no questions. We sang at the top of our lungs, raised our giant beers and danced our asses off in the name of the glorious, all-powerful Justin, captivator of masses and stealer of hearts. Even from two stories up I was powerless against his dreamy pop star spell.
When Justin Timberlake performs, it makes you realize that he is more than just a puppet for mainstream media and producers. He is a musician. Throughout the night Timberlake rotated between strumming an acoustic guitar (which was especially riveting during the infectious "Senorita"), plunking out ballads on a piano or dancing and jamming on a keytar, and he played all three instruments confidently. There was something organically appealing about Timberlake, despite all of the well-oiled mechanics of his intricately choreographed set, and it was obvious that there is a down to earth creative mind underneath all of the acrobatics and pop sheen. I found him appealing despite of the fact that his set was flawless, because there is something about his persona that makes him easy to relate to on a very basic level. Maybe it's because he's the boy next door, wholesome and minimally controversial. Maybe he's done a remarkable job of developing Justin Timberlake the brand, enough so that we are tricked into believing that he is every guy that we want him to be. Regardless, there is something irresistibly appealing about the young, impressively polished performer.
By the time his show was over I was convinced that I needed to own Timberlake's latest album as soon as possible, if only so that I can blare my new favorite pop song, "SexyBack," while vacuuming my apartment. As Ike Reilly once sang, "Came here as a faker but you're leaving as a fan." I may not understand why mainstream society chooses to consume everything that they relentlessly consume, but I am one step closer to understanding the appeal of corporate pop. Like most simplistically fun things in life that we try to downplay by labeling as "guilty pleasures," the key to enjoying Justin Timberlake is to stop over thinking it. Close your eyes, hold up your beer and smile. Justin is here to show you a good time.
