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Justin Timberlake, I hear you say? You’d rather be locked in an overflowing portaloo at Glastonbury all day than watch the gnome-faced wonder thrust his way around in front of you for two hours. Fair enough, but you really should wipe that indie sneer from your face – because this is how it’s done.
Apparently, refurbishing and rebranding the Millennium Dome into the O2 Arena cost around £300million, and you can see why. Gone is the ‘we’re just in a big tent’ feeling and in its place is one of the most dynamic and technologically advanced arenas in the world. Timberlake, his 10-piece live rock band and dozen or so dancers spread themselves liberally across an enormous Celtic cross-shaped stage right in the centre of a screaming cauldron of 20,000 punters, and hit it from the word go. This is no ordinary stage – and it’s certainly not Wembley Arena. It moves. It doesn’t just spin, entire separate sections do, as well as elevate and shift from left to right, while above a thousand or so digital stage lights dazzle all around. The huge sound system is full and focused and even the bloody seats are comfortable!
Ripping through ‘Like I Love You’ and ‘My Love’, the one they call the Trousersnake is, begrudgingly, on mesmerising form. Dressed in a grey 60s cut suit with trademark white moonwalking trainers, his performance energy is boundless. All that money spent on training has certainly paid off – the singing is spot on, he’s a dab hand at the piano and not a bad guitarist. He even chats and jokes a bit. He is however, a dire beatboxer. Thankfully this is kept to a bare minimum.
More than anything Team Timberlake know how to put on an astounding, atmospheric show. The choreography across such a bizarre stage is excellent and the backing singers are professionals. ‘What Goes Around’ is layered with brilliant harmonies, while ‘Rock Your Body’, ‘Love Stoned’ and ‘SexyBack’ are as funky as hell. In a full-on innovative visual experience, fifty-metre screens with well chosen projected videos and illustrations roll in and out of view – at numerous points projecting Timberlake so the people behind him on one side of the stage can see him front on at the other side.
There’s a fifteen-minute masterclass in DJing to the masses from producer pal Timbaland – lots of “London, can I hear ya!”s – you know the sort, and an atmosphere-destroying interval for ten minutes, but apart from that, with perhaps the obvious exception of Muse, a lot of artists can learn a thing or two about putting on a blistering show.
