The fountain of youth is overrated. Sometimes it’s better to embrace the maturity, sophistication, and consistency that come with age. Justin Timberlake may not seem that old, but at a ripe 32 he’s 20 years removed from his debut on the Mickey Mouse Club and 13 years from N’Sync’s historic commercial smash “No Strings Attached.” The skin-tight t-shirts and hair gel are long gone, replaced by bow ties and a slickly combed hairstyle. On his latest effort, “The 20/20 Experience,” the music matches the look and attitude. The hooks may not be as catchy as we’re used to, but the album as a whole is a sprawling, ambitious effort that shows a pop star who has grown into a musician before our eyes.

Timberlake’s developed sophistication is made apparent within the first few seconds as a cascade of orchestral strings launches “Pusher Love Girl,” one of the most fully realized songs Timberlake has ever recorded. The song is a slow-jam ode to a girl that Timberlake compares to just about every drug imaginable—so much for teenage innocence. But his once-squeaky falsetto sounds better than ever, soaring over a wash of muted guitars, synths, horns, and voices in rich harmony. It’s Phil Spector’s Wall of Sound, updated and modernized for a new generation.

You can give the credit partially to Timbaland, the once-omnipresent pop producer who hasn’t really been relevant since, well, Timberlake’s “FutureSex/LoveSounds” in 2006. The orchestration of “Pusher Love Girl” is one of the many things that Timbaland gets right on the album; he also brings his trademark slithering vibe to “Don’t Hold The Wall” and hurtles “Tunnel Vision” forward with a huge, clattering snare drums and a new-feeling synth sound every section. Throughout, the dense, varied production provides new discoveries upon every listen.

But while the production is certainly elegant, it’s not particularly innovative. The rhythmic vocal patterns and drum timbres that were futuristic 10 years ago now sound five years dated. Timbaland also has the annoying habit of inserting his “yeahs” and grunts at every possible opportunity. Especially given the recent boom in R&B innovation, with pioneers like Frank Ocean, the Weeknd, and James Blake constantly attacking the established sound, it’s slightly disappointing that neither Timberlake nor Timbaland reached too far outside their comfort zones.

This unwillingness to experiment is not much of a setback, however, when the results are as solid as “Spaceship Coupe” or “Mirrors.” Timberlake has never been a great lyricist, but he sounds quite convincing on “Spaceship Coupe” when he croons, “Everybody’s looking for the flyest thing to say / But I just want to fly away with you.” Timbaland bolsters Timberlake’s delicate melody with insistent piano chords on the top, a buzzing synth bass on the bottom, and indecipherable bloops and whirls in the middle. Even the best N’Sync love ballads seem like contrived child’s play compared to this one.

And then there’s “Mirrors,” the most obvious potential hit here. The musical addendum to “What Goes Around”—which itself was a musical addendum to “Cry Me a River”—“Mirrors” shows Timberlake at his hugest, with ringing stadium electric guitars blaring out over a standard three-chord pop progression. The song sounds generic upon first listen and affecting the next; by the third listen, the searing harmonies are embedded deep in the brain. It’s a little too long—the herky-jerky “You are / You are the love of my life” chant towards the end feels tacky—but there’s no doubt that JT will be singing the song in encores late into his career.

In fact, “Mirrors” encapsulates the album as a whole—smartly written, passionately sung, magnificently produced, but also slightly bloated and lacking in immediacy. Maybe this is just an inevitable tradeoff in adulthood and evidence that Timberlake has reached his peak. But considering how many pop stars we’ve seen fall off, it’s a pleasure to see him age gracefully, just like Sinatra, Jay, and the rest of America’s timeless pop icons before him.