There’s a scene in the musical biopic parody “Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story,” where the movie’s fictional rock star protagonist is attempting to make the leap from pop sensation to artiste. He’s brought in a full orchestra and band into the studio to record his masterpiece, but he’s still not satisfied. “I want an army of didgeridoos!” he screams. “Fifty thousand didgeridoos!”

This is somewhat how I imagine producer Timbaland in the studio working with Justin Timberlake over the last few months. “I need an army of synthesizers and beatboxers!” he probably said while listening to playback of the track “True Blood.” “I want fifty thousand vamps! Fifty thousand backing vocal tracks! Fifty thousand animal noises!”

And so led to “The 20/20 Experience, Part II of II,” an album weighed down by misplaced ambition and excess. It’s not terrible, especially compared to other current pop albums, but it still feels like the half-baked leftovers of the excellent “Part I,” which came out in March. The two-part “20/20 Experience” was supposed to cement the Timber-duo’s status as timeless pop innovators, but this release instead shows that even the best run out of steam.

If Timbaland’s vague exoticism was on the verge of sounding tired on “Part I,” it’s exhausted by now. It seems he simply rehashed production snippets from across his career, modified them slightly, and mashed them together. When Timberlake summons the guitar on “True Blood” it enters, with the same figure it did on “Sexyback.” The heavy beatboxing groove on the opener “Gimme What I Don’t Know (I Want)” was swiped from the 2007 Nelly Furtado hit “Give It To Me,” and the jangling Indian tumbi used on Missy Elliott’s “Get Ur Freak On” was imported for “Murder.”

Worse than the recycling is the clutter. On “Part 1,” each instrument was distinguishable and noteworthy—just listen to “That Girl” to hear how clearly the slick bass and punctuated horn hits come through. Songs on “Part 2,” however, are largely overlong, jumbled washes of god knows what kind of instruments. “True Blood,” for example, clocks in at nine and a half minutes. Some of the discernable parts are: bongo-like drumming, ambient jungle noises, electro-whines, evil laughter, and truncated vocal snippets. It sounds like some kind of tribal sex nightmare.

“Drink You Away” tries even harder to be a genre amalgam. Its three-chord melody and lyrical content are country, its snare hits are pop, and its harmonies are R&B. What results is less an innovative blend than an identity crisis as organ flurries drift in and out without direction.

Timbaland’s production can be alluring when there’s musical or lyrical substance underneath. Unfortunately, there’s not too much to be found here in the way of melody or hooks. Too many of these songs are based on one-note melodies and forgettable choruses—come on, can you really do very much with the chorus lyric “T-K-O”? Timberlake’s lyrical regression certainly doesn’t help the cause. His nativity allusion on “Cabaret”—“I got you saying Jesus so much it’s like we’re laying in a manger”—is unfortunately the tip of the iceberg.

Every one of Timberlake’s solo releases has included both a classic jam and a classic ballad. “Part 2” unfortunately has neither. The best song on the album, “Take Back The Night,” is catchy enough—it’s driven by soulful horns, string flourishes, and a Michael Jackson bounce. But the stagnancy of the melody line and unoriginality mean that it’s less of a triumph in its own right than a resume padder; it’s the kind of song you might skip over on a Greatest Hits album in favor of “My Love,” “Mirrors,” or “Cry Me a River.”

It feels a little ungrateful to critique this album. After all, this is been our first year of musician JT since 2006, and we should cherish anything we get from him, lest he decides he’s an actor for the next seven years. But this album adds very little to his canon and even diminishes the greatness of “Part I.” “How did the sound get so amped up?” Timberlake asks on the blaring “Only When I Walk Away.” I’m not sure, but I wish he and Timbaland would turn it down.

—Staff writer Andrew R. Chow can be reached at andrew.chow@thecrimson.com.