They tell lies about pop music on Saturday night telly.
They herd kids together and lead them to believe that if they do (and sing) what they’re told, smile like they mean it, and stand up from their stools at just the right time, then it’s all there for them – stardom, fame, adulation, acclaim. That success is as inevitable as acne.
Perhaps it’s just as well.
If the real cost of pop stardom was revealed to our hopefuls, they would run for the hills. They’d never get out of bed.
Think ‘Can’t Get You Out Of My Head’. Think ‘Crazy In Love’. Think ‘Get Your Freak On’, ‘Toxic’, ‘Freak Like Me’, ‘Rehab’, ‘Love Machine’. Think ‘Crazy’.
Now shout out a song by The Arctic Monkeys, Arcade Fire, or Flaming Lips that you’d be confident of kicking the arses of any of those.
Thought not.
Thanks to a collision of charismatic performers, brilliantly inventive (and opportunistic) producers, and the convergence of hip-hop, R&B, and propulsive electro into a new musical Esperanto, the high end of the pop charts has reached truly Olympian heights over the last few years. And topping up his suntan on the summit is Justin Timberlake.
Spend two and a half hours in the upside-down delirium of his live shows and it’s easy to see why.
No expense has been spared here. Stages lift and fall, lasers cut through plumes of dry ice, diaphanous movie screens give the impression of 20ft tall gospel singers (during a show-stopping ‘Losing My Way’) towering over the crowd. Cut through the whiz-bang theatrics, though, and it’s an old skool soul and funk revue – with Prince (in fact, lots and lots of Prince), George Clinton, Jacko and Mantronix all waiting for their moment in the spot-light.
The songs, of course, are immaculate. ‘Senorita’, ‘Like I Love You’ and ‘My Love’ are dashed off so effortlessly you almost forget how good they actually are. No such problems confront the grandly elegant ‘…What Goes Around…’ – it forces you to take notice.
Timbaland makes an appearance halfway through the show (during ‘Chop Me Up’) and plays a mash-up of his back catalogue, while Justin takes a break.
It says something of Timberlake’s status that he can employ the world’s most inventive producer as a warm up DJ.
Returning with ‘Rock Your Body’, it’s easy to see why Mr. Mosley is happy to be involved. And by the time ‘Cry Me A River’ comes round, well you’re wondering if it’s the best pop song about sexual betrayal since ‘I Heard It Through The Grape Vine’?
Apparently Timberlake was inspired to write ‘Sexyback’ when his iPod played ‘Rebel Rebel’ directly after ‘House Of Jealous Lovers’. Shuffling across the stage with his partner in crime (almost like a space age Scarecrow and Tin Man), Timberlake’s confidence is unmistakable. So, a pop hero with A-Grade collaborators and an inquisitive musical mind.
Sounds like the X-Factor to me.