Justin Timberlake should be annoying.

He‰’s been everywhere lately, posting a portentous video announcing his return to music, charming
audiences with his slick new single “Suit and Tie,‰” hosting and performing on Saturday Night Live, hamming it up for a week on Late Night with Jimmy Fallon, guest-starring at South By Southwest and (finally) releasing his new album The 20/20 Experience this past Tuesday. It‰’s his first album since the 2006 masterpiece FutureSex/LoveSounds, a magnificent pop achievement that managed to overcome what we must admit is a fairly ridiculous title.

Timberlake announces his return to music
)

But enough about the music for a minute. (I‰’ll get to that next time.) I want to examine the appeal of Timberlake, the seemingly unflappable superhuman incapable of breaking a sweat or missing a note. Despite the fact that I‰’m both jealous of his confident image and skeptical of his perfection outside of the public eye, I have enjoyed watching and thinking about Timberlake‰’s recent comeback.

When he released “Suit and Tie,‰” the consensus was twofold. “I‰’m so happy he‰’s back!‰” cried one camp, while another one sounded a less enthusiastic note, “This song is no SexyBack,‰” they grumbled. I‰’m somewhere in the middle, I think. “Suit and Tie‰” (featuring Jay-Z) is a superb R&B song, and it‰’s incredibly entertaining in a live setting. Even more so than usual, 2013 Timberlake seems to be relishing every moment he‰’s performing onstage. His wildly enthusiastic backup band, The Tennessee Kids, reflects the obvious joy he gets from singing and dancing. In fact, I‰’m glad Timberlake hasn‰’t tried to reinvent the music landscape the way he clearly intended to do with his last album. It‰’s not his job to singlehandedly prop up the music industry, but it is his job to make great music, and he has succeeded.

In a rare twist, Timberlake introduces his own SNL performance of “Suit and Tie‰Û:

At the same time, I can‰’t really call what Timberlake has done this year a “comeback‰” in the traditional sense. Comebacks require that the artist has disappeared for some length of time, but Timberlake has hardly avoided the public eye in the seven years since he released his last album. He played Napster founder Sean Parker (quite well!) in David Fincher‰’s Oscar-winning The Social Network, starred in the frothy romantic comedy Friends with Benefits alongside Mila Kunis, signed on as the creative director for the rejuvenated MySpace, hosted Saturday Night Live to great acclaim several more times and generally refused to let the world forget his name. This isn‰’t a comeback so much as a priority shift.

I‰’ve enjoyed this priority shift so far, mostly because there‰’s an aspirational quality to Timberlake‰’s act. He carries off his extraordinary feats of performance effortlessly, as if it were as easy as breathing. We lap it up because we‰’re in awe of someone who can do many things we‰’re incapable of doing, and Timberlake embraces that aspect of artistic affection. His recent television and concert appearances are a form of showing off, it’s as if he’s saying, “I can do it and you can‰’t!‰”

Sure, it can seem robotic at times. If he missed a note once in a while, maybe he‰’d be less intimidating and more like, well, an untalented person like myself. Other times, it seems artless. Perfection is overrated. What we really want is a sense of danger, something that Timberlake rarely provides. His album is called The 20/20 Experience after all. The title alone implies perfection. And whether it‰’s genuine or not, perfection is enticing.

Perhaps because this 100 percent aesthetic grows tiresome after too long, Timberlake‰’s ideal role in the culture is not that of a pop artist. He‰’s most at home, most alive, when he‰’s poking holes in his persona on SNL or goofing around in skits with Fallon. Two particular instances sum up the appeal of this version of the multifaceted superstar. First, his bravura SNL monologue song from 2009, in which he sings a song about refusing to sing or fall back on any of the tropes of his past. He‰’s lampooning and embracing himself in equal measure, congratulating himself for his accomplishments without pretending that his accomplishments defy ridicule.

He‰’s “Not Gonna Sing‰Û‰Û_or so he sings:

Meanwhile, his four “History of Rap‰” numbers with Jimmy Fallon masterfully meld musical credibility with an admirable sense of fun and abandon.

History of Rap 4:

So, he‰’s back. I‰’m happy to welcome his talent and energy, but Timberlake can only ride on the thrill of his return for so long. This week, as his album drops nationwide, Timberlake loses control of his ability to steer his comeback in a particular direction. How will this significant risk pay off? It‰’ll be up to us to determine whether 20/20 is an experience worth waiting for.