Grade: C

Justin Timberlake claims he is “bringing sexy back.”

This begs several questions: Where did it go? Who took it? How long ago? How did JT retrieve it? What will it mean now that it’s back? Does it really, at the end of the day, matter?

The first five questions are unanswered throughout “FutureSex/LoveSounds,” but the last receives a resounding “no.” This may be one of the defining moments of Timberlake’s career, but other than being different from his usual sugary-sweet fare, it’s unremarkable.

The Timberland-produced tracks are some of the more lackluster he’s released lately, especially when stacked up against what he produced for Nelly Furtado.

The aforementioned “SexyBack” is as bland and predictable a single as anyone could ask for, and Timberlake’s already pseudo-obnoxious vocal style is punctuated by a new level of thuggishness. “What Goes Around Comes Around” is the inevitable controversy piece — Timberlake has denied it is about Britney Spears, but that’s quite possibly the least believable claim made in pop music this year. The only truly enjoyable track is “Chop Me Up,” featuring Timberland and Oscar-winners Three 6 Mafia. The song is a far cry from Mafia’s usual gritty fare, drawing more from Prince than anyone.

The rest of the album ranges from tolerable to bad. “LoveStoned/I Think She Knows” drags on, and on, and on and on — ruining the mood set by the moderately enjoyable “My Love.” But the real fault here is in Timberlake’s determination to assure the world that he is no longer a member of *NSync. Rather than changing his style, he just bumps up his already sky-high self confidence and tosses a few swear words around very casually, not unlike that obnoxious kid in junior high everyone liked and the only discernible reason was because could swear casually.

This album is not revolutionary. It’s not exceptional. It’s not even the best of Timberlake’s solo career — 2002’s funk-inflected “Justified” was far more enjoyable. This is just a superstar trying to reinvent himself by doing the same thing he’s ever done. So smash that disco ball, Justin. Everyone knows boy bands are as dead as disco. But if respect and credibility are what you want, maybe it’s time to focus more on the music than on the sexy.

Evan Thorne is a music critic for the

Northern Star