Last week, during his weeklong guest spot on Late Night with Jimmy Fallon, Justin Timberlake performed two Juicy J-inspired interludes in a ten-minute medley of his greatest hits. He semi-rapped “turn up” as the drums from “Like I Love You” melded into “My Love,” and he sang the chorus of “Bandz a Make her Dance” as “My Love” became “Cry Me a River.” He rapped “Bandz a make her dance/Bandz a make her dance/All these chicks clappin/And they ain’t using hands” without a hint of irony, and then right after: “You were my sun/You were my earth.”

In the six and a half years between FutureSex/LoveSounds and his newly released The 20/20 Experience, Justin Timberlake’s status as a musician, performer, and entertainer grew to the point at which he could, on national TV, cover a song which features prominent pornstars in its video.

Twelve years ago, Justin Timberlake wore this to the American Music Awards.

The buzz surrounding The 20/20 Experience began in January following Timberlake’s letter to his fans, posted on his website. The next day came the first single “Suit & Tie.” The song is sleek and bubbly, and listening to it feels like a glitzy, tipsy wedding reception. Timberlake’s falsetto and the background harp drape “Suit & Tie” in an elegant decadence. It comes with the Jay-Z lyric “Tom Ford tuxedos for no reason.” It smirks in the face of the DIY “Harlem Shake.” It is the antithesis of “Thrift Shop.”

What made Justified successful were its four fantastic singles. What made FutureSex/LoveSounds critically and commercially adored was its continuity, its execution of its lofty ambitions, and the incredible self-belief of its creators—Timbaland and Timberlake (Also, read that name again. Future. Sex. Love. Sounds.) Justified recalled Off the Wall (“Rock Your Body” was first offered to Michael Jackson) and FutureSex/LoveSounds upped the ante by borrowing Thriller’s grandiosity and Prince’s refined yet raw pop-funk. What comes in The 20/20 Experience is a little of both.

20/20 marries the long and multiple movement song structures of FutureSex/LoveSounds with the RnB sensibility of Justified. Only two songs dip below the six minute mark, and save for the wishy-washy-Frank-Ocean-inspired “Blue Ocean Floor,” every song take structures and styles which have been swirling in pop, RnB, and soul since Sam Cooke and warps, twists, and stretches them to six, seven, eight minutes, complete with breaks, shifts in tone, and lengthy codas.

The 20/20 Experience is a very pleasing record. Timberlake’s voice works well with Timbaland and J-Roc’s production, expansive in “Strawberry Bubblegum” to fill in the inviting space among the sparse percussion, synths, and strings, and narrower and more straightforward in the drum-heavy “Tunnel Vision.” The album’s focus on extended songs gives Timberlake and Co. time and space to take musical ideas to their extremes: the seven minute seventeen second “Spaceship Coupe” features a Prince-inspired guitar solo, “Strawberry Bubblegum” introduces a jazz piano line five minutes in, somehow making the track sound even more creamy. But oftentimes, many of these extra minutes tacked onto the ends of songs sound superfluous and distracting. The second single “Mirrors” comes with a two minute forty second coda in which “you are/you are/the love of my life” is repeated over and over, leaving the song sounding like an overextended and half-assed attempt at a “Cry Me a River” or “What Goes Around…” The “Wanna Be Somethin’ Somethin” rip-off “Let the Groove In” stretches past seven minutes and is only saved from being both unabashedly derivative and four minutes too long by a settling falsetto bridge.

There is also the issue of Timberlake as a lyric writer. On “My Love,” he gets away with “I could see us holding hands/walking on the beach our toes in the sand” because of a fantastic Timbaland beat, T.I. waiting in the wings, and sheer force of personality—nothing was stopping JT on FutureSex/LoveSounds—he was bringing sexy back. On “Mirrors,” Timberlake sings “Yesterday is history/Tomorrow is a mystery,” which somehow manages to be just marginally less cringe-worthy than will.i.am’s “Scream and Shout.” Timberlake is no Frank Ocean, and thankfully, he knows this—his sound always takes priority over his content. When he sings “And now I’m just a junkie for your love/my heroin(e), my cocaine, my plum wine, my MDMA” on “Pusher Love Girl,” he sings it with a wink, the same wink that convinced you that he was, indeed, bringing SexyBack. And yet, The 20/20 Experience lacks the showmanship and punch that came with Justified and FutureSex/LoveSounds. Timberlake doesn’t sound like he’s trying particularly hard on most of these tracks. One could blame it on his voice, particularly his falsetto, which is pleasant but lacks nuance and force, or on Timbaland who certainly isn’t as dominating as he was in 2006.

You could blame Timberlake. You could point at his lack of urgency on this entire record, and question the thrust behind his entire musical comeback. But he knows that you will pay attention to him. He took the last seven years off from music to make films, star on SNL, offer you his dick in a box, and get married. He teased the world with a video of him walking into the studio and set Twitter on fire. He releases an album after a six-year musical hiatus that doesn’t feature any singles nearly as powerful as what he’s done before, and yet will surely enter the charts at number 1. More than anything, The 20/20 Experience is an exercise in branding and publicity—elevating Timberlake into the highest echelon of pop superstardom. It’s no accident that The 20/20 Experience has the “I’m in love, I’m on the top” RnB feel of Beyonce’s 4 and the sheer bravado of Watch the Throne. It’s only fitting that Timberlake will tour with Jay-Z this summer.

On the first track of his first solo record, Timberlake begins “Señorita” by telling us his name and exactly where he’s from: “All the way/from Memphis, Tennessee.” When he released that album, Timberlake was grasping for credibility—for people to listen to his record without the blush of “ex-boy band guilty pleasure.” Eleven years later, he comes out with an eight minute song in which declares, (presumably to Jessica Biel) “If you’d be my strawberry bubblegum/Then I’d be your blueberry lollipop.” Perhaps you don’t buy any part of the “experience,” the extended jams, the featherweight falsetto, the invitation to ride in his Spacesuit Coupe. But the very fact that Timberlake has gone from posing with Joey Fatone to ordering HOV out of his seat is testament to his savvy artistry enough. If you do buy “the experience,” (and I heartily recommend that you do), be sure to wear your flyest tuxedo/dress and smile as you clink crystal champagne glasses while Timberlake provides backing harmonies on “Bandz a Make Her Dance.”

Rating: 7.5/10

-Tim Tsai, host of Slow Jamz with Sweaty Bettyz, Thursdays from 9-10

Fischbeck and Rara, whose performances  are characterized by audience interaction, take the label experimental seriously. According to hawksandsparrows.org, “the name ‘lucky dragons’ is borrowed from a japanese fishing boat caught in the fallout of hydrogen bomb test at bikini atoll in the 1950′s” (sic). At times, Lucky Dragons’ music can sound like an elemental fallout. But if Existers is an eighth grade science experiment, it’s the marshmallow gun of science experiments. Lucky Dragons might not typically see the largest of stages, but when they get the chance, they deliver.

The second track, “what you see is what you get,” opens with hand clapping that, like the first line of a poem, lays out a rhythm to which the remainder of the song responds, and off of which it builds. Halfway through the song, a timid base appears that’s so subtle it’s breathtaking. At times, the album can be challengingly subtle, but it’s important, at least once, to resist the urge to let the music become background music. It’s great music to throw on while you do whatever you’re doing, but it’s meditative and intellectually stimulating if you allow it to be.

While the album tends to shy away from the human voice, four of the album’s seven tracks incorporate vocals, ranging from the soft chanting of “no weapons” on the final track, to an eerie, soothing murmur on “real fire” and “festina lente.” The fittingly titled “mirror makers” is a robotic track whose aleatory wandering is squashed midway by a domineering, regimented synth. On just the next track, an earthy xylophone synth washes over, illustrating the tonal and atmospheric range of such a short album. And though the album is nearly over before it starts, this is its strong point. Despite coming in at just 21 minutes, Existers requires patience, and by cutting the album short, Lucky Dragons lend the album more immediacy, reminding you to savor every note.

In an interview with Jessica Hopper of the Chicago Reader, Rara said, “Our main focus is often on the social contract between people gathered in a space and between ourselves and the institution or venue.” It is obvious that for Fischbeck and Rara, there’s more to the music than what’s etched onto the record. As Hopper points out, Lucky Dragons are not just a band, they’re “an art project, a social experiment, a magic show.”

The social element of Lucky Dragons is certainly not absent from Existers. On the album’s first track, Rara sings, “this is for the existers / this is for the doers / the repeaters / and the [creepers?] / this is for the [straighters?].” These lyrics, essentially the only of Existers, frame the album with a social justice rhetoric that grounds the randomness in a more concrete dialogue. Then again, half of these words are muddled, and the lyrics aren’t exactly belted to begin with. In other words, the elevated declarations that “this is for the existers” is there if you want it, but if you’d rather let it fade into the beats and repetitions, you’re more than welcome.

To their critics, Lucky Dragons’ multiple personalities detract from their music. Music blog juggernaut Pitchfork, for example, will have you believe that Lucky Dragons “is not really a band,” as Brian Howe wrote in his review of Existers, which he gave a 4.8 out of 10 by the way. (Oh what a far cry from the Pitchfork of 2008, who gave Lucky Dragons: Dream Island Laughing Language a 7.4)! But this is not a review about the downfall of Pitchfork. It is a review to remind everyone that the word “artist” is not just a column in iTunes; it can also be the designation of innovative musicians who aren’t afraid to think outside the box.

– Adam Greenberg

This isn’t entirely relevant, but I like the names of the songs a lot. And I know, don’t judge a book by its cover, but you know a song called “Anne With An E” is going to be good, and it is. It’s so relatable, because it must be so hard to be named Anne and then everyone is like, “With an E or without,” and you’re just all, “Ugh, with an E.” Right? This is the stuff that makes up our day, people. It’s great. Kip Berman’s fluttery vocals against Kurt Feldman’s persistent drums creates a strong contrast that carries through the album. Title track “Belong” unfolds the album slowly, until we are up to faster songs with more hit-potential, like “Girl of 1,000 Dreams” and “Too Tough” (my personal favorite).

The Pains (what a LONG band name you guys) stay true to their tempo, watered down Lou Reed vocals. It’s a fun, spring-is coming- album whose pace is perfect for this in-between weather. A few songs have the potential to make it to your beach playlist for the summer. But for the most part, what the songs lack in longevity they make up for in cuteness.

-Tandice Ossareh

It’s Alright, It’s OK, Satellite Commander

While it is easy for one to become mired in the clichéd indie sounds of “We All Think You’re Dreaming,” the corny sound effects of the quasi-biographical “Marko Remarko” or the general melodrama of the closing track “What Goes Around (Gets Lost),” this album shows numerous flashes of promise for the future of this young group. Beginning with the energetic refrain of “The Cocaine Bebop,” Elbery demonstrates a charisma that few frontmen can boast, especially in a studio. Another common denominator among the various tracks that stand out to me is the presence of the soft, soothing female complement to Elbery’s wailing vocals, provided by drummer “Dr.” Blythe Weightman. Her presence on the combination of the flighty, acoustic duet “I Love You Like Lost Time” and the bluegrass-infused “If Wishes Were Horses (Then We’d All Be Cowboys)” make for a strong middle of the album, which perhaps accentuates the disappointment brought on by its conclusion. Still, precious few debut albums are without flaw, and while I am not prepared to dub Stereoflower the next Bright Eyes, any group that shows this level of passion, diverse instrumentation, and grand (if possibly misguided) creative vision has earned themselves a second listen in my book.

-Michael Taintor

Their debut EP, False Fronts, is aptly titled. At a first glance, Prints appears to have the arsenal necessary for a proper Indie debut. Vocalist/Guitarist Carrie Kapp’s filtered croon offers a rich, almost jazz-like quality that leaves the listener feeling truly soothed by the music. At first, the composition seems to have a purposeful minimalist aim (a popular theme among modern Indies) and the songs even occasionally reveal a lyrical prowess. Yet the supporting band, secondary to the glaring vocal prominence, offers little more than simplistic picking and a continuous looping bass in order to uphold the melody, displaying a depth (and fun factor) equivalent to playing chat roulette in a baby pool. Okay. That might be a little fun. But still, I expect a bit more from Seattle.

The debut song on the album, “Empty Vessels,” seems to be the talent show of the five-track EP, displaying the most versatility of any track. The song begins with a solo snare and a distorted tweak common to so many Indie bands (Woods, Beach House), which commences the track with a simplistic, but no doubt catchy, riff. The melody is also something that you’ll find yourself humming for quite some time after the fact, truly an accomplishment for an EP that eventually grows tiresome, offering little more than repetitive, melody-reliant riffs.

Don’t get me wrong; the music works great in the background, maybe study-time tunes, something to chill out to. And it is entirely refreshing to hear a vocally rich female amongst all of the strained vocals of modern singers. But that’s about as far as it goes.

On first listen I was excited to hear how the music unfolded, initially impressed by the soothing vocals and relaxing simplicity. But after two minutes of curiosity, I felt a sort of musical void. It was as if I could feel the distant goal of what the band had intended to achieve, but all I could hear was practice, no overarching originality that set the band apart from the rest of the sappy Indie crowd. Akin to the struggle of Tantalus, the band tempts but fails to satisfy, grappling for something just out of reach. Perhaps left with just a false front.

In all, the band does have potential. They need to tap into a deeper creative wellspring, especially compositionally. The intent is there, and the music even slightly offers a soothing style of its own. Prints might even help themselves out if they adhere to a more traditional structure. But there is nothing special, nothing wholly captivating at all about the music. As Einstein warned, Prints of China has simplified its sound just a bit too much.

-Andrew Stone, Host of Chillbrojams: The Harrison and Andrew Show, Tues 8-9 am

Straight from the heart of Oakland, California comes Zion I’s new EP, Atomic Clock, a ticking timebomb just waiting to burst onto the Rap scene. For those of you who haven’t had the pleasure of experiencing Zion I, a duo of producer/DJ AmpLive and MC Zumbi, they might be described as a more Rap-based Black Eyed Peas, employing heavy keyboard beats and socially conscious lyrics which promote good intentions, such as love and unity. If you’re already a fan, just kick back and enjoy Zion I’s best piece of work to date.

Taking a similar approach as a pre-Plastic Beach Gorillaz (I have to admit, I love Gorillaz as much as a fat kid loves cake), Zion I kill it with Atomic Clock. The album’s flow is impeccable, rolling between songs without ever taking a step back. The concoction of beats and lyrics is flawless, encouraging the listener to ‘chill out’ while pumping the beats into their heads.

The Atomic Clock ride begins with “Always”, my favorite track off the album. While rapping the message that “love conquers always”, Zion I sets the mood for the rest of the album with upbeat lyrics and trumpet melodies. To pick a track which defines the laid-back style of music Zion I, “Girlz”, the seventh song on the track list, is an obvious choice. A constant drum beat and chime-like sounds calms the listener down and making you want to shut your eyes and enjoy the sound. “Girlz” is followed up by the excellent, “Many Styles”. This song demonstrates the aforementioned similarities between Zion I and other famous artists. Using a blend of Black Eyed Peas lyrics and Gorillaz beats, Zion I meshes the two musical styles into a successful four-and-a-half minute long sample which really demonstrates what their music is all about.

Zion I’s attempt at creating a fusion of musical skills is relatively successful to me. No matter what genre you’re a fan of, I encourage you to give Atomic Clock a listen-Zion I’s newest EP has something for every one of you music aficionados out there.

Rating: 8.5/10

-Written by Samir Abu-Hamad

On their newest album, Play It Strange, the prolific ensemble has found a solid sound, in the vein of the successful Surfer Blood, but with deeper vocals and a more nuanced melody, a la Edward Sharpe (though without the folksy-ness).  In interviews, Fresh and Onlys have meekly disputed the ‘garage’ band label so often atributed to them, but thanks to the basement production of their first two albums, and the continued creation of slightly crunchy, homegrown tracks, it is a label they will find hard to avoid. On Play it Strange, the first three songs are an amazingly smooth beginning to an album– “Summer of Love” is an ironic ode to ignorant bliss, made up of a bouncy beat with a bit of zydeko accompaniment, while “Waterfall”  stands out as my personal favorite song on the record. That track perfectly juxtaposes the deep strength of Cohen’s voice against Sartin’s equally deep bass line and a more optimistic, higher-pitched guitar melody. About halfway through Play it Strange, the group shakes it up, throwing in a nearly eight-minute tune, “Tropical Island Suite,” which starts off strong, but confusingly peters out at its mid-point. “All Shook Up,” meanwhile, has an old-fashioned quality to it, emphasizing harsh chords and low vocals. The final track harkens back to the album’s start, returning to a slower rhythm, but maintaining the same attitude of innocuousness which was present throughout Play it Strange.

The album is a definitely the work of a group that seems ready to embrace whatever sound comes their way – the band often talks about songs being produced organically, coming together into records, EPs, or cassettes when appropriate. The bottom line is that Fresh and Onlys make music the old-fashioned way, with basements and beer (they go through about a six-pack each while on stage) making up the heart of their creative impulse. Yet, it is Play It Strange’s originality and inventive twists, and not that approach to music making, that make the record worth many a re-listen.

–Ani Zotti

Back in 2006 (also remembered as the International Year of Deserts and Desertification and completely unrelated to the group) drummer Jacob Merritt and vocalist, guitarist, and keyboardist Isaac Karns went against Reel Big Fish’s universal advice and started a band.  Joey Cook joined to add another set of vocals, guitar, and eighty-eight keys.  On their most recent album, Daniel Lyon replaced Josh Kufeldt as third guitarist.  Lyon is not the only change to the project; they switched labels from Lujo Records to Afternoon Records and co-produced the album with TJ Lipple of Aloha.  Liple has also worked with notable college circuit bands including MGMT, Headlights, and Minus Story.

In their three-year career, Pomegranates has toured with Jimmy Eat World, Spoon, Peter Bjorn, Islands, and French Kicks.

On this most recent album, Pomegranates maturely manipulates their sound and tempo progressions, both between and within tracks.  Think the experimentation of a jam band, like Phish, meets the indie sound of hipster Brooklyn.  Unlike their last two albums, Everything is Alive and Everybody Come Outside, One of Us also features strings which further develops their sound.

Joey and Issac trade off vocals throughout all thirteen tracks, giving the album a level of dissociative identity disorder with three personalities: Joey songs, like “50s,” Isaac songs, like the title track “One of Us,” and joint songs, like “Prouncer.”   If Jason Schwarztman of Coconut Records had a child with Chris Conley of Saves the Day (post Stay What You Are), the resulting cry would be Isaac’s sound.  Joey’s voice is a softer Jake Snider of Minus the Bear and better compliments the band’s vibe.

Minimalistic tracks prevent the album from becoming a mush of psychedelic power jams.  “Between Two Dreams” is a gentle yet sad piano ballad with simple yet powerful lyrics. Joey sings, “I hear your voice at night in my sleep/ Some memories are hard to keep/ If it’s love/ Let me stay.”  The lyricism on the album as a whole is well done.

All this being said, while they are good at what they do, I can’t envision anyone ever saying, “Oh my god! Pomegranates is my favorite band!”  Is the album worth checking out?  Yes.  Are they worth seeing in concert?  Probably.  Will I still be listening to them five years from now?  Probably not.  Shelf life is essential to success in the true music industry and it is precisely what Pomegranates lacks.

Recommended tracks:  ”Skull Cakin,” “Prouncer,” “Between Two Dreams”

–Keelin O’Donoghue

From the entrance of vocals in the opening track, “Bertha Brilliance,” the album sounds like a late 1960′s British response to the American garage-rock scene that developed in the wake of the British Invasion. It remains in this vein through the remainder of side one of the LP, culminating in the fifth track, “Choreography Killed the Cat,” which uses wordplay to argue for a less measured approach to song and life, with more spontaneity. It also includes the line “You’re stepping out of time and everybody knows,” summing up the album’s general feel and setting up for the second side’s commentary, as it builds up to a crescendo that gives the album much of its momentum.

“Where the Action Isn’t” kicks down the door to the album’s second half with a forceful guitar riff and distorted vocals that give the song a more modern feel than the rest of the album. This more modern sound, coupled with the rejection of “the little scenester queen” mentioned in it, make it seem  a response to Paul Revere and the Raiders’ 1965 recording “Action,” which states “come on baby let me take you where the action is.” This response to the ’60′s U.S. garage scene continues with the next track, which opens with Egyptian imagery, harkening back to Sam the Sham and the Pharaohs. It adds to the sense of The Jigsaw Seen’s nostalgia for and envy of the late ’60′s music scene. Interestingly, although lyrically evocative of Sam the Sham’s Egyptian shtick, musically “Cave Canem is far more like Peter Sarstedt’s faux English folk. The discord this creates an excellent example of The Jigsaw Seen’s success in synthesizing their many influences to create music that sounds both much like a product of the late 1960′s and fresh at the same time. Bananas Foster continues with a few Kinksesque tracks, although none sounds overly derivative (which is to be expected considering that Jonathan Lea, The Jigsaw Seen’s guitarist has been a part of Dave Davies’ backup band since 2002).

Ultimately, The Jigsaw Seen succeeds in creating an album that stands both as a retro rock album and as a new, fresh statement on Bananas Foster. Unlike other efforts to add to older musical conversations within the language of that era, the band loses no momentum during the album and avoids any tracks that feel like novelty songs. In its success at this, Bananas Foster deserves to be in the conversation for best albums of 2010, but not to beat out The Suburbs or The Monitor for top status.

8.9/10

–Robert Kaminski

“Footnotes,” Thursdays 11pm-midnight on WGTB

The album’s first half is influenced by the standard, pop-culture lyrical “love” jargon and streamlined, danceable beats.  On the whole, the sound is hardly original- yet it is occasionally memorable, in a quirky sort of way.  “Hang With Me” is the album’s first  single—a euro-pop tune with a catchy hook and the easy-to-remember lyrics, which end up getting annoyingly stuck in the unwary listener’s head.  The first four songs are reminiscent of…wait, just about every damn upbeat and cutsie song (with female vocals) that you would find on a 7^th grade girl’s Ipod.  Robyn is a solid artist, but as far as her ‘dancehall queen’ image goes, she is much closer to a ‘dancehall princess,’ lurking in the shadows of others like Lady Gaga and La Roux.

On the second half of the album, she attacks a couple songs with an adrenaline filled, guns-blazing, and party hearty approach. Enter Snoop Dogg. On “U Should Know Better”, Robyn and Snoop collaborate in an attempt to finalize her “bad-ass” image. They diss everybody and anyone, and dare others “to fuck with them” in the refrain.  Well, I can’t say I would ever want to fuck around with Snoop Doggy Dog (his laid back cadence is smoothly menacing), but I am not convinced I “should know better than to fuck with” Robyn’s lackluster refrain or her lyrics that shoot for intimidating, but verge on lame.

Robyn tries to be innovative, and she succeeds in little ways, yet the creativity falls short of evolving into a persuasive and outstanding production. It has no stand-out track, in strark comparison with her impressive album Body Talk Part 1.  It falls victim to a sacrifice of quality in exchange for a quick-as-humanly-possible follow-up release date. Robyn has an aesthetic presence, but her sexually charged and feisty lyrics are too often cheesy (or flat out weird), and the synth produced beats didn’t give me any eargasms.  My take:  Body Talk Part 2 is second rate all around, from its club beats, to trippy hooks, to the fratty party starter anthem, and its emotion-fueled pop roots. If you’re tearing it up in da club, then pour a couple more shots–you’ll need them if you’re ever going to go nuts bumping to a beat off this album.

–Justin Jordan