Elias had been Timbaland’s second engineer that year—the one who fetched coffee, re-patched the SSL console, and tried not to breathe too loudly while genius happened. He remembered the night they cut the vocal take. It was 3:00 AM in Virginia Beach. The rain was hammering the skylights of the “Cave,” the studio built under Tim’s house.
Timbaland had always said the best beats make you feel something you can’t name. He was wrong. The best beats make you hear the dead singing backup. The radio edit fades out on a final “you are, you are the love of my life.” Justin Timberlake-Mirrors Radio Edit prod by Timbaland.mp3
“I see you in the sidewalk cracks / In the static of the television / You were the original, I’m the counterfeit / Now I’m just a reflection of a reflection…” Elias had been Timbaland’s second engineer that year—the
The cracked mirror from Dante’s car, which he’d hung on the wall for years, was reflecting the garage. But the reflection wasn’t him. It was a man in a soaked denim jacket, smiling sadly, mouthing the words along with Justin. The rain was hammering the skylights of the