1994

http://www.diggiloo.net/?1994

What a corker of a contest. Well, perhaps not from the point of view of the excitement-free voting, but in just about every other aspect, although I still experience a thrill every time when Hungary gets the first three 12 points. The hosts’ performance is more highly choreographed than that of most of the singers! It’s such a throwback to the olden days when it was all about tuxedos and the royal family in the front row (or in this case Bertie Ahern) and the fans kept well out of sight. Rather like the way Turkish finals were still being run when they had them. I love the way the hosts gaze off stage right when they’re done introducing the postcards.

01 Sweden
B: I love the line “dina tårar blir en spegel av den ensamhet som jag känner”.
A: This is as solid as can be without being super attractive. Worth a second listen though.
V: It’s much more toned down but I hadn’t realised Roger Pontare was already doing his eskimo-cum-red indian thing here. Well alright, not all that much more toned down. Marie Bergman looks like she’s about to devour that microphone, or perform a certain kind of In Bed With Madonna demonstration with it. Wonderful mix of voices between the two of them. The harmonies are very... harmonious.

02 Finland
B: CatCat must seem like a clever play on words when your surname is Kätkä, but Virpi and Katja should have realised that to everyone else it would just seem a bit crap.
A: At least they tried doing something modern.
V: How much more impressive and effective this may have sounded if they’d considered a programmer an instrument and not tried to orchestrate the whole thing. The intro just sounds so weak, like all the life has been sucked out of it (which it has), and the dancers look like they’re off in their own little world, which bears no resemblance to the one we’re aurally part of. The crap choreography and outfits don’t help matters. As usual with Finnish entries, it doesn’t deserve the result it gets, but you can understand why it got it. It sounds completely old-fashioned, even though it’s the opposite.

03 Ireland
B: What does “I was yours and you were mine” mean in the context of these two singing it to each other reminiscing about being 16-year-old boys?
A: Wonderfully rich composition for something so minimalist.
V: Who in Eurovision these days wears a suit and tie? Not even the presenters, or Svante Stockselius. I don’t really get why this won so overwhelmingly. I assume the majority of jury members were the same age and in the same melancholic frame of mind. It’s certainly very accessible. It sports more great harmonies, too, and looks relaxed and effortless. I suppose I’ve solved that conundrum then. I love the look the guitar one gives when he (almost?) fumbles a chord. He has a distinctly Irish set to his mouth.

04 Cyprus
B: I’d never bothered to unearth the lyrics to this until now. Bloody good, aren’t they? “Tremis san pedhi mipos s’ anakalipsun / Vazis ti stoli na mi s’ angiksune / Ta ‘pos’ ke ta ‘yiati’” – brilliant.
A: Relentless. Tremendous. Hard to believe it’s from the same composer as the banal Gimme.
V: Look at all that floppy ’90s hair everywhere! Evridiki’s performance is very well attuned. A bit melodramatic perhaps, but who can blame her. A second 11th place finish must have been disappointing for them.

05 Iceland
B: “Allt það sem enginn sér” is an oddly Icelandic concept that pops up in several of their entries. Well, two.
A: Very experienced team behind this, and another very solid production, but more immediately likeable than Sweden.
V: Great backing vocals, which play a huge part in the success of this performance. How can I not love it though when Sigga and composer Friðrik Karlsson were (at least partly) responsible for Nei Eða Já? I love the way whatshername the host refers to them as “Sigga and friends” like it’s some Icelandic kids’ TV show. Mind you, she does look a bit too eager to prove she’s enjoying herself. She should be with a voice like that. It’s easy to forget that after Finland and Germany, this is about as upbeat as it gets in 1994.

06 United Kingdom
B: Borderline pretentious lyrics here in lines like “Can’t you see the piece of dust / That crumbles in your hand is me”. Then again, it has lines like “...through the clouds and rain / Love has come to stake its claim / In an ugly way” as well.
A: The extended studio version has some sublime moments that don’t all make it onto the Dublin stage, but overall the balance is right.
V: This sounds so good live – you can tell it was composed that way. Not sure what Frances Ruffelle has come dressed as. That is perhaps the song’s weak point: it’s wonderful but perhaps a little too highbrow for its own good. Great ending though.

07 Croatia
B: “Za ljubav se bori / A ja nemam snage.” Poor bastard.
A: In hindsight, this sounds like a different song when played by the orchestra: it brings out and highlights a lot of sounds that are not as evident in the studio version.
V: Toni really goes for it, but the whole thing feels like it’s out of another era. His backing vocalists seem to be interpreting the silence at the beginning with their own mystical choreography, too. Still, they’re rather good.

08 Portugal
B: This deserves points alone for the fact that its composer is called João Carlos Campos de Sousa Mota Oliveira! I can’t remember what the lyricist’s name is, but he or she was the same one who wrote Amor D’água Fresca, and you can sense it in lines like “Esta noite vou servir um chá / Feito de... / ...aromas que não há”.
A: This is a fairly ordinary ballad, and yet…
V: …it’s amazing how gripping someone standing still can be when they’ve got a voice like Sara Tavares’, which raises the song into the ranks of something truly magical. It’s testament to the quality of the performances this year that her wobble in line 4 of verse 1 is about the only weak point of the entire night.

09 Switzerland
B: I like the final lines “Risplenderà une luce per quelli che sapranno / Cercare il sole nell’oscurità”.
A: Speaking of ordinary ballads, it’s the Swiss entry. Well, more of an anthem really, and not nearly as run-of-the-mill as most of Switzerland’s Eurovision output.
V: The orchestration is fantastic and sounds massive – something Duilio clearly draws on. His voice is not all that easily taken to though; very Italian. Great piano.

10 Estonia
B: I love the back-handed compliment inherent in someone being ‘more loyal than a shadow on a white night’ (“valgel ööl... varjust truum”) almost as much as I love the camp assertion “tean mõnda, mida sa ei tea”.
A: To my mind Ivar Must* produced a very competent piece of music here that makes the most of its allotted three minutes, but it just doesn’t grab you, does it? Tries hard to in the bridge and as it spirals towards its inevitable conclusion, but can’t quite manage it.
V: Purple was not a good colour scheme for this song. The postcard clearly shows that Silvi Vrait should never give up singing in favour of acting (and thank god to this point she hasn’t). I’m glad they chose amber as imagery for Estonia’s debut rather than, say, blood sausages.

*not his real name

11 Romania
B: I love the lines “Nopţi fără vise, întrebări fără răspuns / Imi trezesc din amintire sufletu-mi ascuns”.
A: Dan Bittman’s voice is absolutely perfect for this song. To me it remains probably the classiest of Romania’s entries to date. The first two minutes are sublime.
V: Live, it’s when it all gets a bit shouty towards the end that it’s make-it-or-break-it time. Does it for me, but clearly not for the juries. The outfits alone are enough to tell you it’s a Mid-’90s Eastern European Entry. Having said that, I like the slight gypsy influence on Dan’s – if, er, that’s what it is.

12 Malta
B: “Please God, hear me now / You gotta help me!”
A: This is just so Maltese, from the sentiment to the dodgy English.
V: Could these two look any less attractive. I hate how uncomfortably deep Moira has to go on the line “Of promises and dreams”. The performance is otherwise good, as are they all, but very little stands out about this that makes it shine for me. Plus Chris & Moira were behind Believe’n Peace.

13 The Netherlands
B: The pairing of “Waar is de zon” with “Jij bent de zon” is simple but effective.
A: The arrangement is very cleverly tethered to the lyrics.
V: I adore the way Willeke Alberti is the incontrovertible centre of things here. She sings so beautifully and makes it seem so effortless. What the Austrian commentator says about her is true: she’s a professional through and through. Despite all this, unfortunately, the Netherlands picked a brilliant performer and a totally forgettable song, something they have also recently been accused of. It’s delightful, but so easy to overlook.

14 Germany
B: Fnaar fnaar at the lines “Am besten alles und nicht bloss irgendwas” and “Um so länger, um so lieber...”.
A: This is much more of a party song than the Finnish entry, which is why it works. Even with that guy who says “...dance!” Sooooo bad.
V: And here we’re into early ’90s western ‘fashions’. Hideous. Virtually everything about this is wrong, but somehow it all works, like a thousand ill-fitting components coming together to form something that nevertheless functions perfectly. This does sound like the programming survived intact, regardless of the drummer, so I wonder if Finland were given the option after all but made the enormous mistake of choosing the orchestra?

15 Slovakia
B: I love the insistence in the line “Vieš že ti vraví-tak sa vráť, vráť, vráť”!
A: Terrific harmonies, and another great arrangement.
V: Look at that hair! The girls have the least! They do have mighty shoulder pads though. I love the way the drummer sings along in the background. Martin Durinda and his group really make this work – you get a real sense of what’s at the heart of the song and how positive it all is. I hope there’s room for it in my top ten at the end of all this**, if for no other reason than it’s Slovakia, who I have always felt a bit sorry for.

16 Lithuania
B: It’s fantastic that a line as daft looking as “Tik tavo toks gilus dangus” translates as something so charming.
A: I think the problem here is that lullabies are not meant to feature electric guitars. Ovidijus is rough enough around the edges himself without tipping the balance that the inclusion of the electric guitar is a step too far. In every other respect it’s lovely, with some far more appropriate and beautiful strings.
V: While those leather trousers are truly awful, nothing in 1994 was worth nothing.

17 Norway
B: “Gjennom is finner sangen vei / Til en elv dypt inni meg...” Certainly hits the spot for me.
A: You wouldn’t think there would be much chance of this going wrong, what with composer Rolf Løvland also being behind La Det Swinge and Nocturne and Elisabeth Andreassen making the top ten in each of her four Eurovision appearances: and it doesn’t. She has a voice I could listen to all day. Yet more fantastic harmonies. This succeeds as a duet where Sweden works less well because it’s so much bigger and more emotional. Textbook stuff, but without coming across as hackneyed.
V: Incredibly strong performance.

18 Bosnia and Herzegovina
B: “S tobom sam sretno djete / Mada tako ti ne izgledam” makes you wonder where the song’s heading.
A: This is hardly ground-breaking stuff from Bosnia, but at least it doesn’t sound for a change quite as dated as, say, Croatia.
V: Alma Čardžić looks much better here than in 1997! Bit Japanese school girl maybe. It’s amazing that Dejan is so deafened by the reception he receives he’s not sure whether to start singing. An awful lot is made of the orchestration here that is almost indecipherable in the studio version. Harmonies play such a huge role in [the success of] the performances in 1994, don’t they.

19 Greece
B: Yet more backhanded compliments here: ‘your breath smelled good when you kissed me’!
A: I suppose this is more upbeat than Iceland actually and even gives Germany a run for its money in terms of getting people up and going for it. It couldn’t possibly come from any other country than Greece – even from Cyprus it would just seem like they were copying (not that they would ever do something like that, of course!). Completely authentic then and certainly easy to get into…
V: …but at the same time it maintains an odd distance that tends to negate lines like “Stis agalias su to apanemo limani / Erixa ayira ospu rothise i avyi”. Seeing the drummer in his football kit (or whatever sport it is) makes the postcard for Greece my favourite of the contest.

20 Austria
B: I hate the way they repeat the line “Dafür singe ich euch dieses Lied” as if they’re really out to achieve something. Having said that, the last three lines are unexpectedly good.
A: Cheesy anthem.
V: The sound mix on this isn’t the best, with the music drowning Petra out for most of the first verse. She puts in a competent performance, if a bit static, and clearly the most nervous of the evening: relief is written all over her face at the end.

21 Spain
B: I wonder whether “Ella es la otra, la que me excita / Y quema mi ropa” points to some strange courting ritual they have in Spain. Must get expensive. And cold.
A: This is totally lush in the way the orchestra is offset by the acoustic bits.
V: Although Alejandro Abad looks a bit odd from some angles, I find him surprisingly sexy, given he’s not at all my type. Something about the way he never quite sounds like he’s pronouncing his words properly. Must be the animal in him. I love the little finger thing he does on the line “No, ella, ella no es ella” in the middle of the first chorus. Look how big his hands are! If you measure from the top of his middle finger to the base of his palm... but I digress. Although that might provide some explanation for why he sings “...yo, con mis prisas, me suelo ahogar”. But anyway. Lovely arrangement.

22 Hungary
B: “Könnyek nélkül sírok / A meg sem született gyermekemnek” looks so clumsy as a bridge but sounds so right.
A: I have died and gone to heaven: you can hear every squeak and slide on that guitar; every imploring note from that oboe; and every gloriously clear and pure note coming out of Friderika’s mouth. And that’s just the studio version.
V: It does not get any better than this.

23 Russia
B: The chorus here is a perfect example of how to turn some very clunky-sounding Russian into something wonderful.
A: If the entire song here was musically like the verses I’d rate it even higher, but I still love it.
V: The live version is a tremendous summary of the best bits of the much longer studio version, and is noticeably more uptempo. Youddiph deserves to be massive if you ask me, but she was completely unknown in Russia before Eurovision apparently and disappeared back into obscurity after. Cruel, when this is such a vocal powerhouse and such an acoustic and orchestral masterpiece. And what a fucking fantastic costume!

24 Poland
B: The insistence on using only Polish words that made it not sound very Polish seems very cynical, but it sure works – the language has never since sounded this beautiful.
A: This run of songs forms the nearest Eurovision equivalent to a multiple orgasm I have ever experienced. Is it coincidence do you think that they all predominantly feature oboe? (Mind you, it could be cor anglais for all I know.) Edyta Gorniak has another crystal voice, but with such power, too. Phenomenal.
V: That last bit is one of the best in the contest’s history. This is another beautifully orchestrated piece, nothing of the papierowa marionetka the lyrics might suggest it is.

25 France
B: The lyrics here are brilliant, with lines like “J’vais pas rentrer chez moi, lui raconter pourquoi / Pourquoi j’aurais pas dû et comment j’ai pu” standing out for me. I wonder what Mr Stockselius would make of her putaining all over the place these days. Alright, she only does it once, but still. It would probably go unchecked, just because it’s not swearing in English.
A: Another fantastic song from France. I couldn’t even begin to comprehend how accomplished it is as a piece of music: I just know that it is.
V: An unrivalled performance here, in the truest sense of the word, with the added benefit of being well lit and directed. And choreographed: I love the way they all end up back in the same places they started. These last four entries must represent one of the highest quality runs of songs and performances in Eurovision history.


And so to the points...

1 point goes to Cyprus

2 points go to Germany

3 points go to Romania

4 points go to the United Kingdom

5 points go to Norway

6 points go to Iceland

7 points go to Russia

8 points go to France

10 points go to Poland

and finally…

12 points go to...


Hungary!!!


The wooden spoon is awarded to Austria.

**Almost but not quite (it ended up 12th)

1993

http://www.diggiloo.net/?1993

A fairly decent year, all told. My final 25 might just about have included all of the semi-finalists ahead of some of those we did get.

01 Bosnia and Herzegovina
B: All the pain in the world, and you can feel it. Unflinching, grimly beautiful lyrics. Slovenia – probably because it was sidelined in the conflict – eschews navel-gazing for something lighter, but Bosnia didn’t really have that luxury.
A: That said, the chorus here is quite uplifting. Morbid, but uplifting.
V: It’s all very primary colours in Ljubljana, isn’t it. Wonderful vocals, given there’s only three of them doing the singing. I got all excited in a nostalgic kind of way at the beginning there to see the quintessential Bosnian keyboard make an appearance so early on in the piece. [Meanwhile, in Millstreet…] Could have done without the choreography, but I like the echo.

02 Croatia
B: “Tisuće snova dalekih, ruža u srcima zaspalih” makes a lovely opening line.
A: They obviously meant well, but I can’t stand the cheap music box sound of this, and it’s all hopelessly repetitive.
V: I wish the vocals were as coordinated as their outfits in everything but the chorus. The last bit is quite nice though. [Somewhere in Ireland...] Pater Čučak is hot! No wonder he gets a close-up so soon in the piece. They still sound quite ragged in the verses.

03 Estonia
B: It’s not often you get lines in Eurovision like “You can take all my gold necklaces and bracelets and throw them down the well”. And very few Estonian entries have had lines which highlight the relative complexities of the pronunciation of the language as concisely as “Hallitab hõbe ja kahvatub kuld” what with all the palatalisation and whatnot going on.
A: The woodwind, though appropriate, is ever so slightly irritating, as are Janika’s girly vocals. (The way she delivered them several keys lower live at Eurolaul 2002 blew me away, I hasten to add – her voice has matured so much.) On the other hand, the acoustic backing is fab… but you only really get to appreciate it during the verses. Builds nicely.
V: There’s something fidgety and restless about the arrangement here that makes it feel like they all want to get it over and done with as soon as possible, Janika included. It’s only really on the last note that she convinces you she can hold one. The audience’s lukewarm reaction says it all, sadly.

04 Hungary
B: I love the way Janika’s ‘bugger it, you might as well be chipper’ attitude is immediately smothered in Ms Szulák’s wet blanket of “Törékeny nekem a boldogság”!
A: Well, it’s very early ’90s. I like the way the vocal arrangement in the chorus eschews the line you expect it to take; makes the whole thing slightly less dreary. Which it can’t really avoid, since it fits the whole morning feel of it right enough. The ending is lovely.
V: I’m not sure the injection of tempo into some of these songs to squeeze them into their three-minute limit is helping them much, especially here, where it makes the song feel less like the lonely morning of the title and more like the kind of morning where you sleep through the alarm and don’t even have time to notice that the bed beside you is empty. Andrea’s hair and nails are glamtastic in a very ’80s soap opera kind of way.

05 Romania
B: “Doamne, ce-a ajuns viaţa mea!” Gotta love a bit of melodrama. Middle-aged Eastern European women were clearly having a hard time of it in the early ’90s where snagging themselves faithful men was concerned.
A: The composition here is quite subdued for the most part, but the vocals are overwrought in a way I would only otherwise associate with Italy. The electric guitar was inevitable.
V: Strangely arresting for something without a real hook: must be Dida’s theatrical delivery. She has a great voice, at least in terms of how powerful it is, and despite – or perhaps because of – how OTT the performance is I’d probably have liked to see it in Millstreet. The way it feels musically is not all that far away from Dincolo De Nori. (The camera wobble and feedback from the microphones are perfect, incidentally.)

06 Slovenia
B: I like the idea in “Kako dobro se zlivam v ta svet ... / ... ki ne obstaja”. Is the lead singer Italian?
A: I would have expected something more introspective musically, with lyrics like those. The guitar’s great, as are the strings (needless to say). I much prefer the verses to the chorus, although it being more upbeat is spot on given the accompanying words. Nice instrumental ending.
V: The Jackson Pollock fashions and cheery choreography are a bit much, but there’s no denying this sounds completely different to everything else so far. Not that that necessarily makes it better, but it does stand out. The guitar-led bits could almost come from a Neil Tennant and Chris Lowe composition. [Elsewhere...] Sheesh, the outfits and lighting are even more garish.

07 Slovakia
B: Ha ha, how perfect is this after Hungary and Romania!!! “Láska je zázrak, ktorý sa koná bežne / Chalani sú z nej chorí” sounds like a Slovakian take on the hairy palms story.
A: Am liking the guitar, but it soon descends into Eastern European soft rock mediocrity. It fails to really go anywhere until the short-lived instrumental break and the introduction of the orchestra towards the end, when you finally get a sense of it making something of itself.
V: The prominence given to the orchestra from the off here boosts the performance, although the song still drags until there’s little more than 30 seconds left of it.

08 Italy
B: There was a lot of pain being shared in 1993, wasn’t there? Even Italy got in on the act. “Svegliaci, sole, facci sentire / Quanto dolore hai portato con te” could be from the Italian version of a Balkan entry.
A: Perhaps appropriately, this fails to really take off for me, although the arrangement is nice. Bar the electric guitar. And triangle.
V: There’s a wonderful easy confidence about this performance that grabs you from the outset. The orchestration is terrific and certainly lifts the song.

09 Turkey
B: “Zaten deliydim / Şimdi divaneyim” sums it up nicely.
A: Well, it kind of runs out of reasons to exist after a minute. I’d forgotten how popular saxophones were in the early ’90s. Very not-Turkish.
V: They can’t click in time, and the backing vocals are barely there, but they do their best to make something out of nothing. If I was Mr Aydos I wouldn’t be wearing shades that only served to emphasise the size of my ears.

10 Germany
B: I like combining the lines “Hier ist unsere Wirklichkeit” and “Und was kam dann?”.
A: It’s that echoey middling rock anthem so popular in the late ’80s. The strings would be wonderful if they weren’t synthesised. The chorus is not nearly strong or defined enough in a song striving for anthem status.
V: I bet Münchener Freiheit were all shoulder pads and way too much hair. [Checks] Well, the conductor is. The rest of them are comparatively restrained. As expected, this is rather underwhelming given its pretentions.

11 Switzerland
B: There’s a lovely couplet here in “Et si demain la chance m’appelle / Avant tout, je veux être moi”.
A: Now there’s a strong chorus. The song verges on 1980s Whitney Houston, albeit without the sustained strength. It really needs to crank up a notch at the end, but doesn’t.
V: Works though. The crowd loves it, and I wouldn’t have minded another Swiss victory with it. I love the way Ms Cotton just stands there and sings it: fits the song perfectly.

12 Denmark
B: The chorus is a bit cheesy but the verses offer up some great lyrics. I particularly like “Jeg sætter mig på kanten af din seng, og du... / ...virker ubeskriv’ligt lille” and “Hvor du end er i fantasi’n, vil jeg altid være her hos dig”.
A: The chorus is a bit cheesy musically ’n all. The whole thing sounds like an ABBA revival five years too early, and with a misplaced whistling solo. It’s altogether Swedish-sounding. In fact I think I like it rather a lot. Very catchy.
V: There’s those ever-present backing vocalists again. Well, ever-present until they weren’t any more. The way the arrangement here subtly changes the percussion renders it a bit more pedestrian, and I’m not sure it works as well. The way they’re laid out on stage is nice.

13 Greece
B: I like the wake-up call these lyrics represent.
A: God, more synthesisers. And how! Bosnia still sounded like this five years down the line. This is another song that does little to distinguish its chorus, but it grows on you, in a cheap and cheerful kind of way.
V: The backing group might be dressed the same as the German lot, but they’ve got ten times the energy, which makes it a shame that Ms Garbi is – to go all America’s Next Top Model for a moment – so dead behind the eyes. She’s got the voice and she’s more or less got the moves, but what she’s lacking is an expression that convinces you her heart’s in it.

14 Belgium
B: Oh! the irony of “Dat is het nu juist wat ik bedoel”, as we shall see...
A: I hope she smiled a lot, because she sounds miserable. [Waits a bit] Argh! How could they get it so wrong? Has someone just died?! You’d have no idea this was the most quintessential of love songs. Nice simple instrumentation though. [Waits a bit more] Electric guitar!! :(
V: To quote ANTM once again: where’s the passion? She’s just a frump in a tragic frock with a really bad hairstyle. I’ve got no idea she’s pouring her heart out, so what’s the point?

15 Malta
B: “Ooh baby, when I’m alone with you... a holnap már nem lesz szomorú!” Hungary ’98, only slightly less depressing.
A: And without the mouth organ. Not the kind of music I like, to be honest, but it has a good, nay stand-out chorus, and I like the fact that it’s a man singing what would traditionally be a woman’s song.
V: Good performance, although I’d stand him on his own with a perm like that. I see he’s borrowed Fazla’s primary green sports coat from the semi-final in Slovenia.

16 Iceland
B: “Ef leitarðu til mín / Þá veistu svarið” couches the whole thing effectively.
A: Deceptively odd-sounding but actually quite ordinary timing. Yet more saxophones. It’s quite attractive overall, and despite some forceful sounds still comes across as gentle and (appropriately enough) inviting.
V: Now the saxophonist’s got the green jacket; maybe they only had one. Impressive vocals from Inga, when you can hear her. Was this something of a favourite? The audience seem to get very excited about it before it’s even begun.

17 Austria
B: Love the sadomasochistic bridge.
A: Almost out of place it’s so upbeat. Fantastic (and at a pinch I’d even suggest real) strings stuck in the background. Terrible key change though, and it’s all a bit tired.
V: Tony Wegas sings this well, but the early energy quickly fades away to nothing. The second backing vocalist from the left looks like Tüzmen.

18 Portugal
B: The slightly pissed excitement of the lyrics here is brilliant.
A: This is great, but needs to be about twice the speed. You could get some brilliant dance remixes out of it. I love the arrangement, the [almost hidden] layered key change and the vocal mix. All of it, really.
V: This is still great, and still needs to be about twice the speed. The backing vocals are amazing when you consider there’s only two people providing them, and Anabela’s vocals are effortless. She looks a bit like a children’s television presenter who also happens to have a lovely voice.

19 France
B: I love the personification in “Elle est comme ses vieilles dames en noir / Qui portent en elles leur histoire”.
A: You can see why this did well for itself, even if it sounds like an ad for a frozen pizza. Mind you, the ingredients are all there and go together perfectly. The chorus seems a bit clunky, all the same, with odd gaps (representing the gulf between Corsica and the mainland?).
V: Ooh, he’s cute!* Pity about the shirt. Brilliant orchestration, highlighting every little nuance of the composition. Great vocals.

*Check him out today – woof!

20 Sweden
B: “Vår kärlek den är värd ett högre pris” and “Det är inte lätt när man inte kan inse sina fel” are both sentiments I’ve shared at times in my life.
A: There’s no denying the fact that the Swedes know how to come up with an authentic-sounding retro tune. Could be endless other songs**. Strangely, you barely notice that it’s in Swedish.
V: Why am I not surprised that the first match that comes up for this on YouTube is ‘Arvingarna Eloise Stockholm Pride 2006’? Someone should tell Hugo Weaving that the lead singer stole his mouth. Perfectly good performance of a fairly forgettable song.

**Including anything from Melodifestivalen to this day

21 Ireland
B: Bland lyrics, but they get the point across.
A: Probably the strongest chorus so far, but I don’t see that much to set it apart otherwise. Well, actually, it is pretty taut and together. Not my favourite though.
V: Well, she just stands there and sings it, and that’s all it really needs. But her feet look like they’re nailed to the floor.

22 Luxembourg
B: The opening lines are the highlight of what is a fairly naff set of lyrics, all told.
A: This builds itself up to a killer chorus only to hold back, but that’s sort of in touch with the lyrics. The electric guitar is of course a no-no, but I’d completely forgotten this song and am fairly pleasantly surprised to remake its acquaintance.
V: They can’t have been far behind Barbara Dex in the, er, Barbara Dex awards. The live performance underscores the way the song hedges its bets, allowing for a big orchestral arrangement but still being all drums and keyboards at the same time. You can kind of understand why Luxembourg pulled out, watching it. They sound alright though.

23 Finland
B: Great rhythm to “Kuunnellaan, katsellaan, kuljetaan”. The title is done to a very early death, but then this goes with the rest of the lyrics: it’s now or never. (Never in this case.)
A: Is this wilfully old-fashioned or just old-fashioned? The Finnish makes it sound even less contemporary somehow. Could be an entry from 20 years earlier.
V: Hmm, all a bit Willeke Alberti a year early, isn’t it.

24 United Kingdom
B: The words even read themselves to you with an accent from a bygone era. I’m picturing a dance at a Welsh holiday village.
A: Blessed pop relief after the previous 18 tracks! There’s not much going on in it musically and it’s pretty much self-assembly, but worthy nonetheless of a podium finish.
V: I see they’ve got the usual array of newsreaders on backing vocals. The easiest thing to say about this performance is that it’s plain to see why it did so well, but just as understandable why it narrowly missed out.

25 The Netherlands
B: Any Eurovision song that opens with a verse full of driving instructions as metaphor deserves to win, frankly.
A: As solid a Dutch entry as most, with some great touches to the music and arrangement regardless of the very ’90s programming. The bridge is great, as is the ending, which is very much in touch with what the lyrics are saying.
V: Great vocals from Ms Jacket, and fab wardrobe, too. It’s just so utterly Dutch, with a fat backing vocalist, and all of them following the same slightly naff routine as the lead singer. Which accounts for more movement in three minutes than we’ve seen all night.

26 Spain
B: “Todos los hombres son tan especiales / Que han conseguido ser todos iguales”! You tell it, sister!
A: Fabulous, obviously. Given the chance, it would have gotten every spurned woman’s and gay man’s televote. Sounds dated of course but must have seemed frighteningly modern for middle-aged Eurovision. But what does it sound like?
V: My praise for this performance starts and ends with Ms Santamaría’s vocals, which come so easily that it almost looks like she’s miming. How could Finland see a song fall apart like this under the orchestra and still think Bye Bye Baby would be a good idea the following year?! Don’t even get me started on the routine. “Es lo normal!”

27 Cyprus
B: I like the message – “Ki an ti zoi ti pligoni sihna i alithia / Mi stamatas” – if not the messenger.
A: Very beige.
V: It’s like they’re trying not to outsing each other, so they don’t really sing much at all. Easily the least confident (or at least most shifty-eyed) performance of the night. My interest is momentarily peaked when it goes a bit gay at the microphone stands and they start making eyes at each other.

28 Israel
B: These lyrics are quite meaningful in their own way, and could apply to a lot of places – Estonia for one had its Singing Revolution. But...
A: ...it’s Israeli through and through, in the least appealing and most tedious way possible.
V: Unfailingly awful. At least the Swedes make choreography like that look natural. And what’s with the switch to English at the end?

29 Norway
B: “Når du é blant dine venner / Og din trillande latter smelte min hud / Og du late som du aldri har sett meg / Du é som en fjern og kjølig gud / Ingen må se det, bare du og eg vett det” – how can anyone add to that? The honesty is almost overwhelming.
A: Glorious vocals, and the music is just so perfect. Quite possibly Norway’s best ever entry, and one of the strongest in Eurovision history if you ask me.
V: Cripes, not nearly the performance I was hoping for. For a start, what else do you have backing vocalists for if not to provide harmonies without the lead having to carry them? And this, of all songs, is not one you encourage the audience to clap along to. The first minute is bliss, but after that the frown lines pile on top of one another at an alarming rate :(


And so to the points...

1 point goes to Denmark

2 points go to Bosnia and Herzegovina

3 points go to Italy

4 points go to Spain

5 points go to Switzerland

6 points go to France

7 points go to the United Kingdom

8 points go to Portugal

10 points go to Norway

and finally...

12 points go to...


the Netherlands!!!


The wooden spoon goes to Belgium… again.

1992

http://www.diggiloo.net/?1992

A game of two halves here, with the performances really separating the songs into distinct camps.

01 Spain
B: The lyrics are clichéd, but for a recognisable reason. I wonder if ‘music’ is a euphemism for something else in the line “Todo esto es la música que llevo tan dentro de mí”.
A: There’s something about Serafin Zubiri’s voice that lifts his entries above the mediocre they may otherwise have been labelled. The bridge is the best bit of the song, and the key change. The late introduction of the (Spanish) guitar is a nice touch.
V: Blind or not, there’s still no excuse for that kind of quiff. Oddly lifeless performance for a song that’s meant to be such a paean.

02 Belgium
B: Façades were a running theme in 1992 then. The lyrics are interesting but nerdy – as if the entire younger generation of Europe wanted to put the brakes on progress.
A: My goodness, there’s so much about this to dislike. Let’s summarise it as: horrible synthesised everything, and Morgane’s irritating voice.
V: Oh look, we get a close-up on the violins. 11 points was generous. Next.

03 Israel
B: I’m with Dafna when she says “en li shum ratzon lehityafyef”!
A: As usual it’s two-faced of me to slag off one song for being completely programmed only to praise the next one that comes along to the skies, but this is fabulous. The melody is so easy without sounding lazy, and I love what it’s saying. Amusingly ironic that it came straight after Belgium. Great guitars (not synthesised).
V: Finland must have looked at this and thought: “Why don’t we try something like that in a couple of years? They got away with it.” Of course, they’d’ve been failing to overlook the fact that they only just get away with it: the music feels like it’s being held together with sticky tape that’s yellowing around the edges. Dafna gives it her not considerable all.

04 Turkey
B: Don’t you love the way in Turkish the word for ‘storm’ is fortune?
A: “And the next entry comes from... 1973!” The basset hound of ballads. Hopelessly old-fashioned and yet somehow still likeable, probably because it’s Turkish.
V: Having said that, I’m not sure any of them realise quite how unattractive a proposition this is live. Aylin more or less holds it together, without convincing me even slightly that her heart’s in it.

05 Greece
B: I wonder what kind of questions Cleopatra’s children keep asking her that frighten her so and render her unable to provide satisfactory answers.
A: Bombast! Love it. Despite employing some musical trickery that was quite new at the time it still sounds as old-fashioned in places as Turkey. I love the insecurity of the verses though and the way the music cranks up in the chorus to match the change in tone. Electric guitar comes with the territory (Greek entries) so I can overlook it here.
V: Whereas the Turkish one looked like a character out of a 1980s soap opera from somewhere in South America, Ms Pantazi is straight out of Falcon Crest or Knots Landing and exudes melodrama from every pore likes it’s the only way she knows how to breathe. She captures my attention in a way the music singularly fails to. What’s with the orchestra this year?

06 France
B: As metaphors go this isn’t a very challenging concept, but the way it’s packaged in lines like “Ou pé ké janme swèf” is quite beautiful.
A: When they’re not doing chansons, France isn’t too bad at innovation in Eurovision. It makes me wonder how we ended up with what we got in years like 2006 (as marvellous as it was). There’s so much... finesse, I suppose, here. It’s mesmerising.
V: Fascinating performance. For most of it you’d swear they’re all hearing music we’re not. The contributions the orchestra make almost feel like an afterthought and are the only thing that remind you you’re watching Eurovision. This is a good thing, but probably explains why it didn’t rate higher with the juries: I’m sure at least some of them would have lost patience with it.

07 Sweden
B: I’m surprised she stayed as long as she did if the condition was “så länge spänningen finns kvar”.
A: Unless this was another misguided Melodifestivalen winner like Las Vegas, Sweden can’t have been trying too hard to win at home. There’s nothing intrinsically wrong with it, but they could at least have erased the dots after they joined them. Tiresomely Swedish in the sense that Jan Johansen is still singing this kind of thing.
V: Well, it gets the job done. Best backing vocals so far.

08 Portugal
B: “Peguei, trinquei e meti-te na cesta” is such a brilliant bit of imagery.
A: Music and lyrics very much on the same wavelength here. Just about every Portuguese entry is predestined to make the cut, provided they’re not about revolution or Portugal itself. Delightful, needless to say.
V: Portugal being hard done by yet again at Eurovision. Studio-perfect vocals.

09 Cyprus
B: I like the line “Se telio ashedio... / Na yinome mia ekriksi brosta sou” and equally realise that might be the overall effect of the song. Or lack thereof.
A: I could understand this being grossly misunderstood. The composition is... imaginative, if rather spartan.
V: I suppose if any song was going to benefit from the odd sound of the orchestra this year it would be Teriazume, since every element of the arrangement is exposed. It comes across way more effectively than I thought it would, thanks largely to Evridiki’s command of the camera.

10 Malta
B: Typically mangled Maltese English, but it’s the thought that counts, however saccharine. The line “I’ve come to be tired of the scene” must have been penned by a gay man!
A: Sounds vaguely like Love Shine A Light five years too early. I get why it did well for itself. Musically it’s quite competent, without actually trying very hard. I most closely associate with the conviction that surely “this moment can’t endure”.
V: Wonderfully confident performance from Mary Spiteri without milking it for all it’s worth. It’s the second song in a row which sounds good, too. It just makes lots of Eurovision sense.

11 Iceland
B: “Nei eða já? ... Aldrei mér tekst að tak’ af skarið.” I will: já!
A: Yes, all synthesisers again, but I’m sorry, it’s the second closest Eurovision ever came to a SAW production – and one of their most competent and gloriously trashy at that.
V: Supremely blonde, and the performance of the night so far.

12 Finland
B: “Ajatuksissamme tuota laatikkoa muunneltiin” – if only in reality they’d modified the song.
A: Preferably by replacing it with something better, which, let’s face it, couldn’t have been that much of a challenge. There’s nothing wrong with the production itself, but it’s, well... still just wrong. The opening bar (and indeed pretty much all of the opening) is a blatant rip-off of Roxette.
V: In its defence, the vocals are good and it does sound quite contemporary, if unoriginal. But the title still translates as ‘crap crap’ in Estonian.

13 Switzerland
B: Doesn’t seem so incroyable to me that she ‘came all alone’.
A: Switzerland are a bit rubbish, really, aren’t they, at Eurovision. So boringly predictable. To be fair though, this was never meant to make it to the ESC stage in the first place. Was she kicking her clothes off in borderline prick-tease/coquettish fashion throughout? I hope so.
V: [Watches] Pity. I’m convinced she wishes she’d taken up that pole dancing job instead of settling on a Swiss banker for a husband, a couple of kids and singing show tunes in her knickers while hoovering.

14 Luxembourg
B: These lyrics are less than inspired, but I like the line “’T get end aner Welt / ... Iwwer on eege Grenzen”.
A: The music is less than inspired, too. In fact the same could be said of Luxembourg as was just said of Switzerland, by and large. Although here at least they have a stab at an arresting chorus. Bland, but palatable.
V: And the frustrated housewives keep coming. Like Switzerland, despite everything, they somehow get away with it. The whole thing sounds a hell of a lot better than it ought to.

15 Austria
B: Why is there half a line of Italian and half a line of English amidst the German?
A: Ooh, that violin (or whatever it is) is wonderfully mournful. Lots of echo here but it seems to fit. There’s a lot about the composition I should probably dislike but the lyrics make it work somehow.
V: Who’s the supermodel playing the cello with her hair caught in the strings? Must hurt. Tony Wegas looks like the broad-shouldered lovechild of Scooch and Milli Vanilli. I like the final note, but the rest of the performance tends to pass me by.

16 United Kingdom
B: The only slightly clever or interesting thing about these lyrics is trying to pinpoint which of the protagonists is the eponymous step out of time.
A: Michael Ball’s clearly a talented artist and there’s little about the music here you can have a shot at – it’s very together. For me though it’s outdated even for 1992 and little more than an attempt to do a Johnny Logan. So I guess they came as close as they could in the circumstances. Does little or nothing for me. Good ending.
V: Mr Ball’s mastery of the cameras is positively Swedish. His performance is consummate, but it reads all over his face and is something of a turn-off. I like the little swivelling-hips thing he does though.

17 Ireland
B: Now these lyrics are clever. I love the disbelieving honesty of wondering why someone ‘chooses to feel the way they feel about you’.
A: Beautifully composed and I love the way the idea embodied in the title is turned on its head, even though the music would just as successfully have carried something more negative or pessimistic. A clearer winner than In Your Eyes as I see it, without it (again) being a particular favourite.
V: Poised but understated in a way that makes Michael Ball look even more of a twat. Seamless backing vocals. Has W.I.N.N.E.R. stamped all over it in big red letters.

18 Denmark
B: I was unfortunate enough to catch Kenny’s hair while getting these lyrics. I especially like the line “Det’ er om at turde, mens man tor det”.
A: It’s like three minutes of Benny Hill at Eurovision. Cheap as chips, but relentlessly (and rather inappropriately) boppy, given they’re meant to be worried about being caught out. Comes across as a spoof, but I’m happy to go with it.
V: Waaaaaaaaaagh, fashion disaster! Good harmonies, and great vocals generally, but neither of the leads look like they’d be singing such a song if they had any say in the matter, and the whole thing looks and sounds forced. Like they’re just sticking to the pattern ’cause they know it’ll give them a decent enough result.

19 Italy
B: Amazing lyrics.
A: Oh, it’s her again – voice like grazed knees pitted with loose gravel. Fits this perfectly though: it’s so... soul-bearing. Strange that it could almost be an ABBA song, or not.
V: Engrossing.

20 Yugoslavia
B: I admire the fact that the lyrics as a whole are one great double entendre/analogy/whatever.
A: This is the kind of thing I’ve fallen head over heels for in innumerable Balkan finals, but to hear it as an entry proper is somehow shocking. It’s charming, but can’t quite work. Gets better as it goes along, to be sure.
V: Love the dress. Love the performance, too, such that it is, but I can’t believe the bookmakers in the UK had it down as a favourite.

21 Norway
B: “Vi hoster bare det vi sar” indeed.
A: Clichéd. Twee. Very, very wrong. But at least it tries for an accessible melody.
V: Ms Trøan’s features are very compact, aren’t they. Great vocals. It’s astonishing how disco this comes across live once it all kicks off.

22 Germany
B: Granted, the lyrics here strive to be meaningful, but…
A: …the whole song is like one of those simulations where you can always see what’s coming up round the next corner and prepare for it. Compare it and the likes of Yugoslavia and Norway to, say, Italy: it’s embarrassing that they were in competition together, frankly.
V: The Germans sure know how to make themselves look like prats, don’t they. Credit where it’s due: they do with this what they can… but it’s just so lame.

23 The Netherlands
B: “Leer me te zien dat het anders kan” as the bi-curious husband said to the plumber while his wife was at her sister’s for a few days.
A: I feel I ought to like this more than I do, as there’s nothing in particular wrong with it. Doesn’t hang together as well as most Dutch entries though, and while this kind of goes – unintentionally, I’ll wager – with the lyrics, it’s a bit much by the end.
V: Nicely controlled vocals. Not sure about the choreography, but as part and parcel of the whole thing I can see how it found itself in the top 10 come the end of the night.


And so to the points…

1 point goes to the United Kingdom

2 points go to Greece

3 points go to Cyprus

4 points go to Israel

5 points go to Malta

6 points go to France

7 points go to Portugal

8 points go to Ireland

10 points go to Iceland

and finally...

12 points go to...


Italy!!!


The wooden spoon is awarded to Belgium.

1991

http://www.diggiloo.net/?1991

Not exactly a classic year, what with one thing and another.

01 Yugoslavia
B: I love the fact that this contains the lines ‘Take it all off / Take your pants off’! (And that ‘take it all off’ in Serbian is ‘skini sve’!)
A: Now I know why there are still so many songs like this cropping up in Serbian semi-finals. What can I say about it? Very cheery, and oh so Yugoslav. There’s something about the arrangement that makes me think it’s going to do a Finland ’94 and sound terrible live, stripped of its programming.
V: Well, it certainly got the performance it deserved. Ms Dol looks like it’s all she can do not to collapse in a heap.

02 Iceland
B: Good lord, those outfits! Is Nina a hooker with the knack, do you think? Why are they both singing about her?
A: Iceland gave us a string of mid-tempo piano-led pop ballads, none of them to much effect, however together they were. I’m not surprised they’ve never returned to them. There are some nice touches to this, particularly the harmonies, but the tune itself doesn’t really go anywhere that hooks you.
V: Did he really think the purple headband would offset his turquoise jacket (or his ears)? Nice vocals, but it’s all so Icelandic.

03 Malta
B: “Our lines of love ain’t rhyming and the rhythm is all gone” – but surprisingly for Malta these lyrics aren’t at all garbled. Still bog standard though and a precursor for the saccharine onslaught to follow for the next two decades.
A: Oh, hooray! The lyrics might be decent by Malta’s standards, but Paul Giordimaina’s accent is still awful, so it might as well still be in Maltese. As their first entry since the abortive attempts of the early ’70s it is pretty shrewd, and I can see why it did well. Not that I like it much, needless to say.
V: They look like two characters out of a soap opera. Works pretty well live.

04 Greece
B: Poetic lyrics with a pleasing fnaar fnaar twist here and there.
A: Bit of a fanboy favourite, this, unless I’m mistaken. I know it’s only 1991, but not surprisingly for Greece this still sounds very ’80s with those synths, that saxophone solo and the slightly overwrought vocals. Works pretty well as a whole, all told, probably because it’s accessible.
V: The cast of Dynasty continues, this time with the rich bitch stepmother... Fantastic vocals. Did the old boy on the sax have a collapsed lung?

05 Switzerland
B: Sandra Simó looks lovely. How many [Swiss] songs in Italian at Eurovision does that make which feature the words ‘stringimi forte’? I see that songs in the language came first and second in their national final that year. Deliberately, perhaps?
A: She might look lovely but she sounds like she’s entered a karaoke competition during social night at the residential school for students of Italian as a second language. Bless the composer though for signposting just about everything in the song. Not exactly challenging, is it?
V: ...followed by the glamorous daughter of the rich mogul, who is beautiful but fragile and has ridiculous dream sequences. This sounds a lot better than it perhaps ought to, so I get its appeal.

06 Austria
B: “Stilles Begreifen und Sehnsucht nach mehr” could well have been used to describe their numb scrutiny of the scoreboard during the voting.
A: However mediocre a song might be, nothing ever truly deserves to end up at the bottom of the scoreboard with no points at all. It’s understandable why they do, when they’re as pedestrian as this is, but still. There’s nothing intrinsically wrong with it that should set it apart from at least two or three songs so far; I’m assuming the performance must have sealed its ignominious fate.
V: He’s wearing mauve eye shadow!! Ten years after it was fashionable!!!

07 Luxembourg
B: The English translation of the lyrics paints them in a very unflattering light that sees me yawning and rolling my eyes from about the second line. I wonder if they’ll sound any more palatable in French? (Addendum: Sarah Bray’s real name is Mick Wersant? What, is s/he a tranny?)
A: I still feel like I’m being preached at in French, so there’s no saving it. You can give me Austria over this dated tripe any day. The arrangement of the bridge is a lifeline too late, especially with that electric guitar in the final chorus.
V: This comes across about as convincingly as I expected it to. The vocals are almost entirely drowned out after the bridge, which is possibly a good thing. The orchestra makes a silk purse out of a sow’s ear throughout. Was purple really that big in 1991? Giant silver earrings obviously were.

08 Sweden
B: Love the shaggy dog look Carola’s got going. “Det är dags att ge sig av / För stunder som har flytt kommer aldrig mer” might have come back to haunt her after failing to conquer all in Athens.
A: What a breath of fresh air this is! No pun intended. You can see why juries would have sat up with an “ooh what’s that” and taken notice. This is no more early ’90s than Greece is and certainly no more inspired or complex, but it has an energy about it you can’t deny.
V: Wind machine! Huge vocals from the start. The choreography is hilariously bad. During the verses it sounds like there’s a drum and not much else happening in the music. Vocally this is a winner, but overall it doesn’t stand out as I would have thought it might.

09 France
B: I actually find these lyrics a little clunky in their everything-must-rhymeness. Perhaps they will come across better when I hear them sung. They’re rather deep.
A: And of course they come across better. Love it. Not as much as some of France’s similarly interesting and more left-field entries, but it still stands out a mile from everything else we’ve had so far (and are likely to get after it). It coming second is a bit Lane Moje having to bow to Wild Dances.
V: Now that’s choreography. Très classy.

10 Turkey
B: Under the circumstances, wouldn’t it have made more sense to call it Üc Dakika?
A: It’s astounding how much this sounds like a UK entry from the early ’80s, right down to the vocals, and says a lot about the juries that this was one of the country’s more successful entries (as relative a term as that was) pre-1997. It leaves me completely cold.
V: I suppose one good thing about this is that apart from the language it’s about as non-Turkish as Turkey ever got. They really should leave this stuff to Israel.

11 Ireland
B: Lyrics so middle-of-the-road you don’t need lane markings.
A: The opening bars are enough to tell you this comes from the fingers of Liam Somewhere In Europe Whatshisface. How sad for Ireland that this sounds like a Maltese entry. (Even this year’s Maltese entry!) At least it shows that the rot set in well before the end of the decade.
V: I initially had this down as being better than Luxembourg.

12 Portugal
B: Another wonderful set of lyrics here from the Portuguese, especially in lines like “Eu não... pedirei perdão / Quando gozar o pecado / E voltar a dar de mim”. I love how they can put fado on such a pedestal most of the time and then come up with something like this! Makes me understand now why Sabrina was such a schlager princess.
A: I’m not a big fan of the mouth organ, it has to be said. Powerful vocals here which still have a lightness of touch. This is better than just about anything else and has the best chorus of the contest to this point, showing once again that Portugal has been hard done by pretty much forever at Eurovision.
V: The big hair and dangly earrings are back. Fantastic arrangement for the orchestra. Dulce has an interesting face, like she ran into a glass door and never got her nosed fixed.

13 Denmark
B: Another set of very run-of-the-mill lyrics here. Was it the theme for 1991 (along with all the backing singers standing in a line)?
A: If it wasn’t for the very easy-listening chorus – which sounds like endless others, admittedly – this would go precisely nowhere. But then it does sound like a lot of the pop that made the charts in the late ’80s, so maybe it’s doing something right. Perhaps surprisingly, the Danish here sounds like the least foreign foreign language of the contest.
V: Is that the world’s tallest man on backing vocals?

14 Norway
B: Quite like what these lyrics are saying, and who would have thought you’d get thematic resonance between this and Turkey (or anything and Turkey!)?
A: OK, it might be the ‘extended version’, but that intro at least shows that this is well-produced. I can only repeat what I said about Denmark: this certainly sounds like something you would have seen on any chart show around at the time, and perhaps even a little more contemporary. The vocals work well together.
V: Bit of a fish out of water, this, on the stage: thrashes about with a very dead kind of energy. Good vocals though.

15 Israel
B: Why is it that when the Israelis aren’t doing boring anthems and outdated love songs at Eurovision they’re defending their rights? I’m sorry, but I don’t want to hear about it.
A: Setting aside those reservations, there is an engaging arrangement here and some inspired instrumentation and fantastic harmonies... all of which nevertheless scream ISRAEL!! from the rooftops. Could be a winning entry from the ’70s.
V: Quite like the motif running through their outfits, which for a change aren’t hideous to look at. The dance routine is Israel at Eurovision by numbers. It all comes together very nicely.

16 Finland
B: From a linguistic point of view this is a great song to showcase the similarities between Finnish and Estonian (“Rauhaa sydän mulle anna ei” > “Rahu süda mulle ei anna” et al.), although I can’t think of anything else to say about it.
A: From a linguistic point of view this is a great song to showcase how awful Finnish sounds. I can’t see any other reason the country’s entries were so completely overlooked for 40 years, and it doesn’t explain Portugal, but there you go. Ponderous composition. The chorus tries to take off but only manages it in the same way that a chicken is technically capable of flying.
V: Did they seriously think the word yö or anything that rhymed with it deserved a prominent place in any chorus? Static performance that underscores the problems with the song.

17 Germany
B: Ned Flanders sing-diddly-ings for Germany! What with the line-up and the knitwear, Atlantis 2000 look like a Bible studies group. Nice to see that Ralph & Berndt didn’t have a complete stranglehold on the cheesy anthem market in Deutschland.
A: Hate it from the first line. Woefully German in every way.
V: Sounds absolutely huge live without having any right to. The vocals are fake and lacklustre. Now that I look at it, is it knitwear or appliqué?

18 Belgium
B: What a singularly unattractive prospect these siblings are! (What happened to the Netherlands in ’91, anyway?)
A: Sounds a bit like Sister in the chorus, and goes a long way to explaining the kinds of things that keep turning up in the Belgian pre-selection. Much more attractive as a piece of music than I would have expected it to be. The chorus sounds exactly like something else I can’t put my finger on.
V: Red skin-tight pants! There’s a sense of fun between these two a la Re-Union.

19 Spain
B: Romantic lyrics, even if I don’t understand whether Sergio is telling us he’s a pole dancer. The rhymes in the second to last verse are simple but effective.
A: Did this get lots of points chucked at it from Yugoslavia? He has the kind of voice which makes me think it should have. [Checks] It got 8. Plenty of scope for this to go places live, but it’s a little flat in studio. Oh, it just kind of stops.
V: Hmm, doesn’t make all that much of itself actually. What was it with Spanish male artists dressing for Eurovision in the early ’90s like they were expected at the altar?

20 United Kingdom
B: Samantha Janus was great in Pie In The Sky. Clearly where Richard Griffiths at least was concerned every day was not a compromise for a grain of corn. The UK had quite a few of these paper-thin anthems back in the day, didn’t they? God knows why. Utter trash.
A: My god, those opening lines! Atrocious.
V: Borders on disastrous from the off, but somehow it’s held together. I’m fascinated by the way she blinks.

21 Cyprus
B: I’ll say it again: the Greek/Cypriot Eurovision world is a very small one – point six of a degree of separation. Another trite anthem, although at least Elena admits she hasn’t got a clue what to do about the state of the world.
A: Another very predictable arrangement to go with it, too. Irritating chorus. Irritating everything, frankly.
V: She looks like she’s airing her fingers for the nail polish to dry for most of the song. Until the beat comes in half way through the chorus it all sounds way too slow, and even then. Hate the backing vocalists’ “I’m leaning forward while rooted to the spot so I must have something important to say” stance.

22 Italy
B: Nice to see (and, presumably, hear) an Italian dialect in Eurovision, although why they picked one coined by someone with a stutter I don’t know. There are so many double letters you’d almost think it was Finnish.
A: Lush arrangement from the opening bars, and it certainly makes a name for itself in the opening verse. Come the chorus though and it all gets a little bland. As much as I like it, there is an underlying sense of it not being as good as it ought to be.
V: Peppino is certainly in the music. Sounds better live than it does in studio. Sounds wonderful live, in fact.


And so to the points...

1 point goes to Iceland

2 points go to Denmark

3 points go to Norway

4 points go to Israel

5 points go to Belgium

6 points go to Greece

7 points go to Italy

8 points go to Sweden

10 points go to France

and finally...

12 points go to...


Portugal!!!


The wooden spoon is awarded to Ireland, although there were plenty of contenders.

1990

http://www.diggiloo.net/?1990

Hardly a classic year, but one with the odd flash of brilliance.

01 Spain
B: Was 1990 European Year of Hair? Indications of it here at least. “Que el fuego de tu amor sea como un volcán” – don’t we all wish that, love. Typically passionate Spanish lyrics.
A: Synthesisers ahoy! Trashtastic 1989 sound, like Bananarama trying to reinvent themselves but getting stuck on Black Box. Do they ever actually sing anything? Positively Turkish introduction in how long it is. Oh, there they go. Funny how they sound like those three old birds who sang that song in 2005. There’s an awful lot happening here but none of it is doing anything for me.
V: The ultimate false start. How utterly humiliating for the performers and the producers! Poor things. The two lasses make an impressive comeback, with faultless vocals. Turns a bit shouty at the end, but they otherwise hold it together nicely.

02 Greece
B: How ironically appropriate that ‘horis skopo’ should mean ‘serving no purpose’. Quite meaningful lyrics: do you think they’re about someone who’s dying and leaving their loved ones in terrible anguish and bereavement?
A: The interesting and not altogether successful vocal arrangement in the verses gives way to something much more accessible in the chorus. The late ’80s obsession with brass is there for all to see. Does he fall off a cliff at the end or something?
V: That’s Lister out of Red Dwarf isn’t it? Don’t like the backing vocals in the verses: it’s as though they’re chipping in for the hell of it. This takes two and a half minutes to do anything.

03 Belgium
B: If Mr Lafontaine pulls his (yellow!!) trousers up any higher he’ll be wearing them as an off-the-shoulder number. Lovely lyrics in lines like “C’est un tournesol émigré dans la vigne” and the whole thing is obviously very appropriate to the setting. Not that the Yugoslav jury rewarded him for it!
A: Yes, it sounds like a song someone might write for their wife. The hum-hum bits add a touch too much gravitas for my liking. The timing in the chorus catches you off guard, which is good, since the rest is enough to send you to sleep. Sounds like a work in progress.
V: I’d like to be his wife when he’s that shaggable in close-up.

04 Turkey
B: ‘Seagulls inside of me’ would make an interesting twist on the apocryphal ferret/vacuum cleaner pipe story.
A: This sounds rather solid, and presses a lot of your ordinary Eurovision buttons. The accordion and percussion make it seem not very Turkish for some reason. I quite like it. Certainly the only thing with a decent tune to date.
V: It all sounds a thousand times slower than it should and goes nowhere. Kayahan is clearly a seasoned performer.

05 The Netherlands
B: Why did they think ‘Maywood’ a preferable stage name to ‘Alie & Doetie de Vries’? Love the word doodloopt. The lyrics here are a very true account of going into a relationship with your eyes open. I especially like the lines “En als jij me wilt vertrouwen / Dan delen we de pijn” (and not for the fnaar-fnaar quality for once).
A: I’m liking the chorus despite myself; the rest of the song feels a bit self-important. The lyrics alone (if you understand them) should be enough to convey the point that the song’s saying something without having to contrive some pompous tune to do it for you. The verses are a bit of a drag. Listenable though, all told.
V: Straightforward performance that is professional and unexciting.

06 Luxembourg
B: Yes, getting bigger with the hair, and I’d forgotten long gloves were so popular in the late ’80s and early ’90s.
A: Where does one song end and the next begin? They’re already starting to sound like most of them came from the same late-’80s production team. Like Greece and the Netherlands, this one is rescued by its chorus. I’m not sure I understand what all that echo adds to the song, or to any song for that matter. Ooh, they crank it up for the finale. Another one that gets better as it goes along, although it really never needed to be longer than three minutes.
V: Hmmm, Ms Carzo doesn’t give the most convincing vocal performance, and looks slightly annoyed at even having to be there. The girls on the keyboards are completely of their time.

07 United Kingdom
B: No comment.
A: Not even the Junior entries along these lines are quite so torturous. ‘Woeful’ has a new definition.
V: Fittingly, everyone looks and sounds awful. The choreography serves as much point as an ear grafted onto a mouse’s back.

08 Iceland
B: Sigga! Nei Eða Já! Nætur! Lyrically though it’s a very aimed-at-Eurovision kind of song.
A: It’s kind of a Sweden-meets-Yugoslavia-at-ESC number this, isn’t it. See what I mean about the ’80s brass thing? The electric guitar, too, which at least here is actually being played rather than programmed. Great vocals from Grétar and Sigga, and it’s cheery enough I suppose. Pretty empty though.
V: Great harmonies in the chorus. They certainly manage to fill the screen, but it comes across as a bit desperate. I’m not surprised the crowd in Zagreb lap it up.

09 Norway
B: Overdoes it on the Brandenburger Tor bit, our Ketil. Bet this isn’t a patch on Romeo.
A: That goes without saying. There are occasionally admirable attempts to eschew an ordinary arrangement here in the vocals, but the majority is pretty average stuff. The song stretches itself to snapping point to get to the three-minute mark. The little drummer boy interlude is more irritating than it needed to be.
V: Ketil wins the sartorial elegance award hands down to this point. The song has a lot more energy live than it does in studio, and the interlude works a lot better, too.

10 Israel
B: Positively oodles of hair on Rita’s bonce! Very bittersweet number this. Love the lines “Laboker haze yesh ta’am shel khofesh zar / Kmo shel mavet o brakha, ki halakhti mimkha”.
A: At last a composition that doesn’t sound like its only aim in life was to mimic everything else being made at the time. That said, the initial pull and mystery of it (sleigh bells??) is largely lost as soon as they introduce a beat. Streaks ahead of pretty much everything else to this point though musically.
V: Impassioned performance from Rita. Indeed, it sounds like she’s about half a key off but otherwise in tune for much of it. Very classy.

11 Denmark
B: Remarkably different take on the same kind of situation between this and Israel. Remarkably different hairstyles, too: Lonnie looks like she just got out of the shower and only had time to give it a quick frizz.
A: Hang about, I thought, surely this is the Icelandic entry; and if not, Norway’s, since it sounds like a forerunner to My Heart Goes Boom. No surprise then to find it coming out of Denmark. They did a very dependable job of this kind of thing in the ’70s and ’80s, didn’t they: upbeat pop that gets you bobbing or tapping some part of your body along in time to it without you even realising. In a contest like this, that’s pretty much all I need.
V: Are the lady dancers Greco-Roman wrestling there at the start? Slightly ‘oh my god, somebody stole my legs’ performance from Lonnie. Good backing vocals from the lads.

12 Switzerland
B: Terrible all-white outfit (and matching string instrument). Fairly straightforward ‘music is my life’ lyrics.
A: Switzerland years out of time yet again. For a song about someone saying how much music means to them, it lacks any kind of punch. He might as well be singing anything, as it comes across as one huge cliché anyway. Not even the strings impress me when they’re so crassly cut off by that key change.
V: “Must be Switzerland, I’ve seen a cheese,” says Terry Wogan aptly enough. Love the “we call him the singing duvet” quip, too. Despite the ‘look, I can sing and play a string instrument at the same time’ set up the whole thing’s so lifeless that the words barely make it from Egon’s mouth to the microphone.

13 Germany
B: God, there’s a Ralph Siegel entry every year these days! Two-a-penny anthem this, although at least they had a reason for it (with the fall of the Berlin wall; although it’s interesting to note that this fared marginally better than Austria singing about the same subject, albeit without name-checking it, and much better than Norway, which did). Everything on Chris Kempers looks like it’s been inflated, including her hair. “Nehmen, geben – ist es so schwer?” It is if you’re looking for an Estonian man who classifies himself as ‘versatile’. Don’t know how hard it is in Germany. Not very, I would have thought.
A: Yes, well, it’s two people singing a song. Not one of our Ralph’s more melodious efforts, but the chorus is enough to anchor the rest of the song around.
V: Isn’t that Sigourney Weaver and Alec Baldwin? Could be any German entry, like, ever.

14 France
B: Ms Ursull wins the Big Hair title hands down, does she not. I like the little potted history of this song provided by Diggiloo. It probably deserved to win for having Serge Gainsbourg behind it alone: there’s nothing “treize à la douze” about these lyrics. Coming straight after Germany, it shows what a true anthem should be like (on paper at least).
A: Amazing that it took 34 years for a black woman to sing for them, so all the better that the song fits as well as it does. It’s as fascinating as ever from France, albeit not quiet as fantastic as I thought it might be.
V: A performance you actually want to watch through to the end for a change. The instrumental break is brilliant and could come from any recent contest.

15 Yugoslavia
B: More Yugoslavian retro fare. I like the lines “Ne moraš biti snažan i grub / Da budeš sav moj svijet”.
A: Better than the song they won with. Up to 2005 at least Bosnia clearly always took their cue from this period in Yugoslavia’s Eurovision history. I’d even go so far as to say this one’s quite catchy and well composed. It’s basically what Roxette made their name with.
V: I take that back, it’s like Croatia’s answer to Sonia. The boppy routine is fun. The live arrangement outdates the song more successfully than the studio version.

16 Portugal
B: Doesn’t bode well for Portugal that the lyrics paint this as such a bog-standard anthem – very rarely when they’re not singing about pine nuts and prairies do things work out very well for them. Nucha’s outfit and overall look seems a bit of a mistake, too.
A: Woo-hoo! This must be about as close as Portugal has ever come to giving us trash-of-its-time. The arrangement is pleasingly familiar without explicitly copying anything, although the bridge is a bit Eye Of The Tiger. I’m not claiming it’s a musical masterpiece, but it will come as no surprise that I love it.
V: Is Nucha letting out a scream at the state of her nails mid-song? Some very Swedish clapping going on there. I’m a bit underwhelmed by this live.

17 Ireland
B: It’s funny how these European list songs always overlook the Nordic countries. Liam Reilly looks anaemic.
A: The words ‘Amsterdam’ and ‘canal’ don’t fit comfortably into these lyrics, it has to be said. It’s easy to see why this did so well for itself; I’m surprised the Irish onslaught didn’t begin a couple of years earlier frankly. Perhaps it lacks that certain something. The last thirty seconds or so are quite rousing.
V: This has pretty much all of the elements of a winning Irish performance. The chorus works a treat.

18 Sweden
B: Could Bertil Edin’s jeans be any tighter? Awful outfits on absolutely everyone.
A: This ticks a lot of the boxes you might expect of a Swedish winner, but fails to truly convince me. Solidly put together though.
V: The way they all keep exchanging glances is way too cheesy. The music and vocals seem to be competing against each other rather than working together for most of the song.

19 Italy
B: Ditto (doubly so) here (in terms of the outfits). I suppose as anthems for a European song contest go they don’t really come any more thorough than this.
A: I see the appeal here, both as an anthem and as a piece of music written at the start of a new decade, and won’t argue that it doesn’t do exactly what it’s meant to, but it gets boring quickly. And is it really that accomplished?
V: The Turkish guy’s just grown his hair out, hasn’t he? Rousing chorus that strikes just the right note live.

20 Austria
B: Christina Applegate sings for Austria! Probably unlucky coming straight after Italy, but just as well intended. I quite like the lines “Gegenwart kommt in Fahrt / Sie muß um jeden Preis”.
A: For a song that only got through because the winner was disqualified, this isn’t at all bad. The string intro promises more than it will ever be able to deliver in a song produced in the shadow of the ’80s, and perhaps is just a concession to the orchestra that will be presenting it. Simone’s vocals are a bit ‘waaaaaagh’ at times, but all in all this is a decent effort from the Austrians. Nice ending.
V: I like the way the line-up disperses at the beginning. Simone overdoes it a bit with the eyes and what have you.

21 Cyprus
B: Rather barbed lyrics here. I can’t speak for the Greek ones, but the English version conspicuously eschews any identification of gender in a way that has me going ‘aye-aye’ for obvious reasons. The lines “Pou tha me vgali i istoria mou me sena / Oso s’ akolutho” ask a question that is probably pertinent to many a relationship.
A: Stockopolous, Aitkeniki and Watermanolou!!!
V: Yay!!!!!

22 Finland
B: Oh so wrong in so many ways. Not surprised to see it being the only Swedish entry from Finland to be honest. Interesting (or perhaps insensitive) message, given what many of the other songs have been banging on about. Is this the only time there have been two songs in Swedish in one final?
A: Flat vocals for much of the song, although it’s much more melodious and upbeat than I would have expected it to be. I’m glad to see the super-cheap programmed everything curtails itself after a mere two and a third minutes.
V: That quasi-Caribbean thing the Finns love so much is there again. They’re odd, aren’t they, Finns. As suggested by the studio version, the vocals are the weak link.


And so to the points...

1 point goes to Yugoslavia

2 points go to Austria

3 points go to Spain

4 points go to Ireland

5 points go to Italy

6 points go to Portugal

7 points go to Denmark

8 points go to France

10 points go to Israel

and finally...

12 points go to...


Cyprus!!!


What a tragic tart I am. And what a turnaround! The wooden spoon award is shared by Switzerland and the United Kingdom.

1989

http://www.diggiloo.net/?1989

Bit of a dodgy year, all told. I can manage three or four favourites, but after that it’s all much of a muchness. Thankfully, the hosts are hilarious: I wish their acting skills were as good as their language skills.

01 Italy
B: Great lyrics – “Ma l’orgoglio non è mai veloce / È soltanto un pretesto per coprire un errore”; “Quella ruga sul viso che chiamavi ‘espressione’ / Ora è il letto di un fiume” – as per the majority of Italian entries.
A: God, I’d forgotten we were still in the Electric Eighties. Sounds like a Meatloaf song. Anna has a lovely voice but Fausto has the kind I’ve never been a fan of.
V: Can’t argue with their professionalism, but the performance itself (and for that matter the song) just makes me shrug.

02 Israel
B: These lyrics start out interestingly enough, but you soon realise what they’re a front for (“El hayekum esa az tfila”!!).
A: As compositions go this one is scraping the bottom of a very nearly empty barrel.
V: Where were the child labour inspectors, part 1. It’s like the babysitter and the kid she’s picked up ­(after his class at the expensive stage school with the embittered, dried up, cruel-for-their-own-good tutor) who she’s being forced to look after and pander to until both of his parents get home from their demanding high-powered 1980s jobs. Which is to say: appalling. Decent enough vocals, but: appalling.

03 Ireland
B: “If there’s a reason or meaning / Then I ain’t been told” indeed.
A: Oh god! Something makes me think finding enough songs for a top ten (and only one candidate for the wooden spoon) is going to be a hard task this year. I know it’s only 1989 but this sounds very 1987. It could be something SAW did as a demo for some talentless TV star that/who never came to anything. I hope it did sufficiently badly, as above all else it’s as boring as fuck.
V: The synthesisers lend this an unflattering contemporary significance. Kiev and his passengers are wholly unconvincing, not least because the song seems to be sung within a range of about four notes.

04 The Netherlands
B: The sentiment is nice enough, I suppose, if a bit monotone. “Blijf jezelf, verander niet” only underscores the point.
A: A chorus is normally designed to bring all the other parts of a song together into a seamless whole, a focal point of energy and emotion and whatever. This one just plods along, which is perhaps in keeping with what the lyrics are saying, but still. Justine tries to lift it a bit towards the end, to little avail.
V: It’s nice to see they’ve actually rearranged this for the orchestra: coming straight after the Irish entry it could have been another example of how not to sound. It’s more understated, but that works in its favour, and makes the fact that she cracks at the end endearing rather than potentially embarrassing.

05 Turkey
B: “Bir ömür böyle geçmez” – tell me about it.
A: Turkey goes off the deep end. At least it’s different to everything else thus far. It’s 10 years or more too late, if there was ever a time for it.
V: Melodrama! The audience is clearly up for some, and you’ve got to hand it to Pan: it’s not an easy song to sing.

06 Belgium
B: I like some of what this is saying. “En ik zou willen schreeuwen / Maar ik kan alleen zingen” is inviting ridicule if the exact opposite turns out to be true.
A: The music’s jolly bland.
V: Ingeborg has such an annoying voice! Matches her slap-worthy face. And what’s she wearing? Nothing to do with this song or performance reflects the months of preparation that presumably still went into both. It’s like they’ve just randomly picked some dowdy housewife and told her to get up on stage and sing any old song they could be arsed chucking her way.

07 United Kingdom
B: I’m sure the idea of someone being both your one and only weakness and your one and only regret would ring true for a lot of people.
A: It’s Chris de Burgh without the Belinda Carlisle vocal effects for the United Kingdom. At the start, anyway. If Ireland was ’87 this is definitely ’86. There’s a distinct sense that the words to the chorus were in place well before the music. Even if the studio version I have wasn’t from crackly 7” vinyl, it has that feel about it anyway. Stands out to this point, but that’s not saying much.
V: Obviously if I was going bald I’d try and compensate by growing a ponytail, too. How I wish this would crank up a notch or ten... but since it’s not going to I’ll have to make do. Thankfully, it’s the strongest song and performance yet. Although the backing vocals are a bit half-hearted.

08 Norway
B: I’ll be buggered if I know what she’s on about through most of this.
A: Almost everything seems to be striving to sound exactly the same so far. This comes together OK by the time it changes key, but musically at least it remains very dull.
V: God, everything’s so unpityingly slow. At least Britt overcomes her hideous outfit and gives a decent rendition of her less than thrilling song.

09 Portugal
B: I love the idea of “todo um povo / Guiado pelos ceus”. Portugal has one of the richest histories in Europe to pick from when you think about it and here it works quite well as a metaphor.
A: Still not much to write home about musically, but it’s more immediate than almost anything else to this point, so thumbs up for that. You can hear every note in the chorus coming a mile off, but that makes it work.
V: It’s obvious from the way she sings that the oddly monickered Iei Or has an overbite. Her vocals are eclipsed by those of her female backing vocalists, but the arrangement outshines everything and sounds fantastic.

10 Sweden
B: “Allt det vi söker, det finns här intill” – no arguments from me.
A: This manages to sound like everything else and completely Swedish at the same time. Extra gold star for that alone. (It rather strikes me as being the point.) Much more accessible musically than most so far. Sounds like a winner really. I’m quite taken with it.
V: What an about-face after Conquistador: the orchestra sucks every last breath out of this like it’s on the verge of oxygen starvation. Whoever’s on drums sounds like he only has one good arm. It’s such a shame, since it’s a strong song and an even stronger vocal performance. As an aside, I’d sit on backing vocalist John Paul Wall at the slightest invitation.

11 Luxembourg
B: I like the way the central character is so scornful and yet shows herself to be just as deluded.
A: I want to say, 5 seconds in: I know I’m going to hate this. But I should give it a chance. [Gives it a chance] Well, it sure is irritating, but it’s not as bad as Ireland.
V: Decent enough performance, but I’m trying to figure out when exactly it was that Luxembourg lost the plot. Yet again the brass is too low in the mix.

12 Denmark
B: “Sidder du stadig derinde?” That whole bridge reads like a serial masturbator being simultaneously chastised and condoned.
A: Oh so gay. Love it! Funny how it only really sounds like Danish in said bridge.
V: This sounds amazing! Camp as a row of tents, of course, so the gimmick with the conductor works a treat. They must have had high hopes for this, and you can understand why.

13 Austria
B: “Und die Waffen werden Blumen irgendwann” is surely one of the most awful lyrics ever written.
A: Ditto initial Luxembourgish misgivings. Makes me think of Ich Troje, right down to the delivery. Why do all these would-be anthems employ so much echo?
V: A triumph of mascara, mauve lapels and cans and cans of hairspray. As late ’80s anthems go this doesn’t sound too bad, and Thomas makes a solid go of it.

14 Finland
B: Some lovely stuff here, including “Sateenkaari kun taivalla taipuu / ...(on) Rauha sielussa rikkomaton”.
A: Thank fuck for Finland is all I can say, and you won’t hear that too often. Something different! The guitars are fabulous. I’d like there to be a little more emotion to it, but oh well. I imagine it all sounding 100 times more powerful live.
V: [And is it?] More or less. Anneli is pleasantly statuesque and certainly has the vocals to match, but is far too static. Still, this has the sound of a song you would have thought the juries would go for... in any other year, clearly.

15 France
B: Oh dear. “J’ai grandi ortie sauvage / Sure des ecorces de goudron” is all well and good, but cross-eyed poodlesque Nathalie is way too young to be peddling something like this.
A: Musically it’s rather good, with some nice touches to it, but I’m still struggling to get past the obscene underagedness of it all. Lovely ending.
V: My oh my how wrong this is on any number of levels. Ms Pâque will clearly be graduating from the same school of cheesy children forced to smile all the time as the Israeli kid. To her credit (as it was to his) she has very good vocal control.

16 Spain
B: So pathetic; so painful and delusional: the kind of lyrics I fall for, for some reason. I love the couplet “Llevo en mi piel la primavera / ...Y mucho mas amor del que quisera”.
A: Strings – strings at last! I’d like it to be a bit more hopeless and less lovely, but still.
V: I’d forgotten it takes us until song #16 to get to the first big ballad of the night. Under the circumstances the Spaniards must have thought they were a shoe-in. Nina certainly does them proud, managing to keep it just the right side of completely OTT. The warm reception it receives is entirely deserved if you ask me.

17 Cyprus
B: Is it just me or there only about 5 different lines in this song?
A: Listen to those keyboards. Now that’s hopeless for you. The bridge gives it the lift it so desperately needs, but it’s way too little, way too late. I just want to punch them for their fakeness and failure to seem at all convincing (and judging by the screen grabs, for their fucking awful dress sense, too).
V: Fanny, quite appropriately, looks like a twat, and I don’t doubt Yiannis would be described as ‘fresh-faced’. By rights they should be stood on top of a wedding cake because, let’s face it, singing at weddings is pretty much all they’re good for with a crappo song like this.

18 Switzerland
B: Who needs Andorra when you’ve got Switzerland singing in Romansch? “Cartessel strusch da vegnir veglia sut da quellas cundiziuns” – me neither: I’d be constantly scratching my head trying to figure out whether it was German, French, Italian, Spanish, Romanian or Latin. In fact the only language in the group it doesn’t resemble is Portuguese.
A: As usual though, unlike Andorra, they seem to be aiming at a Eurovision sound rather than an inspired piece of music. Not bad though, overall.
V: Princess Diana’s stunt double singt für Switzerland. This is workmanlike, but not bad; the three guys on backing vocals are a bit harsh in a how-low-can-you-go kind of way.

19 Greece
B: Positively Turkish in its (lack of) lyrics that repeat over and over. Touch of Enya to them.
A: Not very exciting, but pleasant enough.
V: Nice flute.

20 Iceland
B: “Og þú færð að sjá það sem enginn sér” is a bit of a mouthful.
A: Nothing is worth zero, probably. I wouldn’t have said this was, anyway. But boy is it boring. There are some early ’80s, late ABBA touches, particularly in the chorus.
V: I fail to see what distinguishes this from any of the other entries this year that were probably worth no points as well. (Perhaps that’s the problem.) Daníel seems to think that in the absence of a cummerbund he might as well just pull his pants up a bit further.

21 Germany
B: I kind of sympathise with what Nino’s saying, although it’s more the hours of refuelling that I’m nostalgic for rather than the flight itself ;-)
A: Doesn’t he know he’s on a hiding to nothing? He needs a wake-up slap about the face as well. At least there’s some passion to the melody and his delivery.
V: Not surprisingly, this and Austria are two peas in a pod – the only difference being that this has a beat. Very dependable turn from Mr de Angelo, although he don’t half squint.

22 Yugoslavia
B: “Nije važno sta je” – Yugoslavia must win!
A: Given there were much better stick-out numbers in 1989, I can’t see why this cheery but uninspired offering won. It’s not quite up there with Latvia ’02 for diabolical winners, but it comes close.
V: I hadn’t realised those lights in the back actually did anything other than be on. I suppose this has a kind of poor man’s Cyndi Lauper appeal, but since there were better songs and stronger performances I still fail to see why it won.


And so to the points...

1 point goes to Italy

2 points go to Austria

3 points go to France

4 points go to Portugal

5 points go to Germany

6 points go to Spain

7 points go to Finland

8 points go to the United Kingdom

10 points go to Sweden

and finally...

12 points go to...


Denmark!!!


The wooden spoon is awarded to Cyprus.