phutty's eurovision

2011

2011-06-15T07:55:00.000-07:00

http://www.diggiloo.net/?2011

In which the impact of the transition from weeknight to weekend was never more obvious and the juries by and large forgot what their remit was. But which nevertheless produced one of the strongest finals in years.

01 Poland
B: A bit limp, these lyrics, even if the Polish makes it look as though you’ve fallen headfirst into a nest of brambles.
A: Lots of neat things happening in the production here, which I maintain was the first this year to show any sign of having a purpose in life. The vocals seem entrenched in a narrow range of notes at times, but the arrangement is actually quite complex, with some interesting harmonies.
V: Which is all well and good if you can get your levels right on the night. As the first performance in Düsseldorf, it’s uncanny at times how much this looks like it’s being beamed in direct from the Oslo stage. Messy and overly busy, and the camerawork doesn’t help.

02 Norway
B: Haba haba hujaza kibaba! Or not, in this case. Still, I like the message.
A: I also like the minimalism, with musical layers being added in a circumspect kind of way that adds to the whole rather than detracting from any of the other parts. Which is not to say there’s a whole lot to it, but then who says there has to be. As a piece of upbeat exhortation with no pretensions beyond putting everyone in a good mood, it’s really effective.
V: Hardly a vocal powerhouse, although no one expected her to be. And it still sounds good live. There’s no need for the matching outfits when everything else about the performance is so simple and straightforward.

03 Albania
B: “I dab my lips with your morning dew” is representative of the knack the Albanians have for knocking out a generally decent set of English lyrics to match or better their originals. “Nuk ka ngjyrë e nuk ka fjalë” is perhaps being a little self-deprecating, but then it’s hidden away with the bit that reveals it’s a Praise Jeebuz! song, so it’s all good.
A: This isn’t as far removed from the original as a lot of people perhaps hoped it would be, and yet it’s streaks ahead in terms of how effective it is when you strip it of the vocals and see what’s underneath. The only problem is that as atmospheric as it is, the arrangement comes across at times as almost threatening.
V: And the performance is certainly in-your-face enough to scare off a significant proportion of the voting audience. Powerful doesn’t even begin to cover it. Looks (and sounds) amazing.

04 Armenia
B: You can come up with all the explanations under the sun, honey: you’ll never add depth to anything this shallow. I wonder if they were saying “Let’s try to hold our spirits high” after failing to qualify.
A: The first example of several this year of otherwise surefire qualifiers settling on complacent as an approach and being punished for it. That said, I have more time for it knowing that it didn’t qualify ;-) Still pretty rubbish though. Which is a shame, because there are odd flashes that make you think it could (and should) have been a whole lot better. Primarily if they’d given it to a more competent performer than Emmy. And spent more than 10 minutes on the lyrics.
V: On this evidence, two years in a row without Armenia in the final could well be a good thing. Emmy’s fine until she actually has to do something other than park her fanny on the oversized fist. For a moment there at the beginning it all looks like some bizarre Dancing Santa routine. On the plus side, the animated backdrop works a treat.

05 Turkey
B: “Here’s your favourite song on the radio”, in hindsight, probably wasn’t the best line to open this song with, given how much of a pastiche it is. “Driving on with no map to lead me on” lends itself nicely to the performance, too. But as I said with Norway, I appreciate the message at the heart of the thing.
A: However cobbled together this is from the best bits of a dozen other songs, you’ve got to give them credit for the neatness of touch with which they did it: the production values are exemplary, and the Turkish elements are woven through it in a way that’s both very subtle and highly effective.
V: Starts well enough, but then the lads decide they have to ‘perform’ and it all falls apart. Vocally it’s fine, but they should have realised that’s all they needed to rely on. They should also have realised that Manga came second last year despite the silly robot woman, not because of her: the contortionist is the problem with this performance in microcosm.

06 Serbia
B: “Naša ljubav je zarazna” – as is this! Lyrics that suit the feel of the song perfectly.
A: One of very few songs this year I loved from the off. Brilliant arrangement that’s as authentic as they come.
V: The rate at which this eats up the lyrics means Nina’s delivery’s a bit breathless in places – most of them in the semi – but she looks the part and is clearly having fun with it, so you tend not to care. And it would be stating the obvious to say the stage looks fabulous.

07 Russia
B: Oh. I thought the second line of the chorus was “I’m running, I’m gunning for you”. I’d’ve liked it more if it was. One less reason to be impressed then.
A: This being Russia, I imagine they tacked on the faux-ethno intro just to get the thing up to 3 minutes. It makes for an atmospheric beginning before the pop banality that ensues. You can certainly see RedOne’s fingerprints all over it, but equally, you can see why it ended up at Eurovision: it’s sub-sub-sub the stuff the likes of Lady Gaga have made a squillion out of. Add to this the fact that Mr. Vorobyov and/or his producers believe he has more natural talent than he actually does and voila, you’re left with one pretty unconvincing entry.
V: And then it’s all he can do not to drop the microphone from his quivering hand. The James Dean look is well-suited to his artificially inflated ego. Each and every one of his ‘ad libs’ is terrible, twice. The faceless backdrop is inspired.

08 Switzerland
B: Sunny, strum-along-a-sing-song. Thumbs up.
A: Utterly delightful. You can hear every string being plucked, every key being struck. It’s like being wrapped up in a musical bubble you never want to emerge from. Anna’s vocals match it perfectly.
V: Her diction’s a bit odd in places though; she sounds like she’s in need of a speech therapist. And she appears to be wearing her mum’s dress from 1985. But these are mere quibbles: it’s the very definition of charming. The camerawork during the na-na-na bit is great: a kind of slow-mo take on Siren.

09 Georgia
B: Hardly the most competent set of lyrics the Georgians have given us, but you get the point. I admire them for daring to include the line “I am lame”.
A: Nice underground feel to the whole thing. The arrangement and vocals seem to be holding themselves back during the verses, waiting to explode into the chorus. Ditching the original singer was the best move they made.
V: Knocks Turkey into a cocked hat before it’s even notched up a minute of screen time. Might as well be in Georgian though, for all you can understand the English. Sopho (are they all called that?) has great hair. It’s almost as impressive as her voice, which can’t possibly come out of a frame that petite.

10 Finland
B: “Peter is young, he tries to talk, but no one listens to him.” Perhaps they would if he got off his schoolboy soapbox. I’d give him a backhander, just one swift backhander, right across his soppy, puppy-eyed, save-the-planet face. And then shove a dictionary in it and tell him to look up ‘twee’.
A: Piano, guitar and strings. What more can a boy ask for? One of the least assuming and most successful compositions of the year.
V: Such boyish charm has our Axel. I admire his principles, but the recycled shirt still looks naff. Which stands in stark contrast to the backdrop – one of the simplest and most effective of the contest. It makes for a rousing opener to the final, and it’s lovely to hear the crowd da-da-dumming along with him for all they’re worth.

11 Malta
B: You don’t even know me, you say that I’m not livin’ right... The Maltese delegation should get “No lesson learned” printed up for themselves on T-shirts: they’d get good use out of them.
A: Glen’s voice and the very mid-’90s theme and production (particularly in the bridge) make this sound like it’s trying to be one of those anonymous club tracks that would have been remixed by Brothers in Rhythm. And actually made to sound good. Fab backing vocals.
V: ...from a bunch of women who end up looking like drag queens anyway. Maybe that was the point. Hair, make-up and wardrobe disaster across the board; the choreography’s crap; and it’s all far too dark. But apart from that it’s alright.

12 San Marino
B: I wouldn’t say no to “something so beautiful but hard at the same time” if anyone’s offering. I quite like these lyrics. “Tonight, can we pretend there’s no more time” makes a good hook (or the nearest equivalent this song has to one) going into the chorus.
A: For some reason I’d been expecting big things of San Marino this year, but when this materialised it patently wasn’t it. Which doesn’t mean it’s not accomplished, or that I dislike it. There’s something slinky and sultry about it, and about Senit, that presses all the right buttons with me.
V: But as Eurovision entries go it’s also completely underwhelming. It doesn’t help matters much that it feels so disjointed, like none of them have actually ever sung or performed it before, or that Senit’s about *that* far off for the entire three minutes.

13 Croatia
B: “Put your hands up” works well in context, but there’s not a lot that’s worth celebrating here. Break A Leg with its ‘sack full of hoping’ might have been laughable, but given what we got it almost seems like an improvement. I love the way Diggiloo (at the time of writing) credits the lyrics to ‘N/A’!
A: As with many a casting show, the result is ultimately scuppered by the song the winner’s lumbered with. This is last-in-its-semi stuff from Dora about eight years ago.
V: Jacques Houdek might have saved it from total ignominy. The ginormous Daria does what she can, but the performance is both literally and figuratively about distracting people’s attention from the shortcomings in the song itself. The four backing vocalists look like they won some Singing Secretaries competition, and the magician’s a total creep.

14 Iceland
B: Þórunn Erna Clausen really delivers with these lyrics, straddling the divide between bog-standard ballad and a doffing of the hat to the song’s composer and making it seem both effortless and elegant.
A: I really can’t imagine anyone other than Iceland giving us Dixieland at Eurovision. And I wouldn’t want to, given how brilliantly they pull it off.
V: Lovely. They really capture the intimacy of the preview video despite being in an arena that’s about half the size of their country. I could’ve done with more close-ups of the guy on drums and his amazing chiselled features, but hey. The motif in the background manages to be both thematically and ethnically fitting, with a touch of the Norse about it.

15 Hungary
B: “Mit mondhatnál, mit mondhatnék / Elkoptunk rég, szemeinkből nézd, hova tűnt a fény?” I think it got eaten by the Hungarian lyrics, which here seem to be speaking with their mouth full. Rude. Kati prises herself out from under the thumb of her man like the would-be diva she clearly believes herself to be.
A: As well-produced as this is, it’s as dated as the concept behind it. There’s a sense that it would only have taken some minor tweaking for pretty much every element of the composition to sound contemporary. Still, it works. The last minute of the song is one of the best of any this year. In that sense, it’s very much more than the sum of its parts.
V: The lighting, the camerawork, the terrible outfits, the dancers... you’d swear this was from some late ’80s or early ’90s contest. Some weird mash-up of Lausanne meets Dublin ’94. Ms Wolf is the mould from which the hardest-bitten of all drag queens are cast.

16 Portugal
B: It’s an ode to revolution, but works just as well in the context of not qualifying. Win-win.
A: Minus the marching music, this isn’t a million miles from their 2009 entry, and is equally enchanting. Sans vocals, anyway, whose arrangement does what it says on the tin.
V: It’s not a struggle to enjoy this performance for what it is, but it’s not much of a joy either. I like the subtlety of the backdrop.

17 Lithuania
B: Je dis non. Uninspired, I know, but somehow fitting.
A: Better than their 2008 dirge, but the almost Armenian-sounding woodwind that pops up a couple of times is basically the only interesting thing about it.
V: So she can sing. Big woop. What jury in their right mind charged with the task of finding a song with widespread contemporary appeal would pick this as the winner of the semi-final? Still, it’s big and busty. And she does sign language. Just what the song needs.

18 Azerbaijan
B: The play on words in the title here is clever in a way that is never reflected in the lyrics themselves. I love the way the word ‘anyway’ has become a vocal comma a la that other favourite of Scandinavian songwriters in particular, ‘just’.
A: This year’s Drip Drop in more ways than one. There’s a clean edge to this that shouts ‘modern production’. Ell and Nikki’s vocals blend nicely, despite being unevenly matched in how good they are. Not the most exciting winner, on the whole, but not undeserved.
V: Looks stunning.

19 Greece
B: You can see why the Greeks went for this when you actually bother to read it.
A: You either like this or you don’t, I think. The aspect of the composition that captures my attention every time is the shift in timing once we hit the key change. From there on in it spirals beautifully to its conclusion.
V: If you’ll forgive the allusion, it’s like waking up with a boner and doing something about it, this performance. That’s the only way I can think to put it. Sleepy-eyed nine-foot-tall wolverine Loukas really ought to have fewer clothes on.

20 Bosnia and Herzegovina
B: I can’t claim to know what Dino’s banging on about here – it all gets a bit quasi-philosophical for me at times – but I do like the lines “We keep on running from certainty / But don’t know where to run from reality”. And the rhythm.
A: In keeping with the lyrics, this is deceptively simple. And yet the fact that it flows as smoothly as it does, deepening and broadening all the time, only goes to show what a proficient piece of music it is. The layers of the arrangement, including that of the vocals, mean you discover something new pretty much every time you listen to it.
V: Somewhere between Putnici and Pokušaj in terms of wackiness, and blessed with the vocals of both. Sparky enough in its own right that it doesn’t need the fireworks.

21 Austria
B: Spends three minutes teetering on a precipice that’s signposted <---Means well - Overeggs it--->. Doesn’t fall off, though.
A: As white gospel anthems go, I have a whole heap of time for this. It doesn’t do anything you wouldn’t expect it to, but what it does do it does with consummate professionalism, and actually manages to be rousing. The vocals, across the board, are excellent, and the last minute of the song is one goosebump moment after another.
V: There are few types of music harder to pull off with only a handful of people on stage than this genre, but Nadine & co. do a fine job of it. She looks a bit like Betty Boo, now that I come to think of it.

22 The Netherlands
B: Works better than Austria saying much the same thing, and you’ve got to applaud them for doing a decent job of maintaining the sentiment of the Dutch original. Even if “...there are golden gardens / At the sweet end of your trail” sounds like a very dirty euphemism indeed.
A: Supremely Dutch, in a good way. There’s a lot to like about the composition, but there’s no denying it’s backwards in coming forwards: it takes two minutes to reach a hook (the oh-oh-oh bit), and that’s of course two minutes too late.
V: We’re back on the Oslo stage here, with not much going on in the background, the lights being too low and blue being the default. The vocals are good without being very appealing, and what with the terrible outfits and the random wandering about, it’s all a bit of a mess. In other words: supremely Dutch, in a bad way.

23 Belgium
B: The Belgians are clearly far less abashed than their neighbours, if their ‘tugging each other into bliss’ is anything to go by.
A: The skill involved in this is admirable, and the vocal arrangement’s fantastic. All seems very ’50s though.
V: Good value, this: goes on forever. I’d just give the guy in the red trousers his own song. And then take his red trousers off and stick him in something that makes him look good.

24 Slovakia
B: I wonder if Veronika and Daniela walked through the fire to get to Los Angeles.
A: Arguably the most stripped-back entry we’ve ever had, and that’s coming straight after a song with no music at all. It’s a very American production, not dissimilar to Running Scared in its approach, but with even less happening. For all that, though, I rather like it. I normally rail against songs that exist within a range of about four notes and employ even fewer instruments in their composition, but somehow this one feels complete.
V: Honey tones are the colours to go for if you’re your semi’s minimalist US number, it seems. The girls are indescribably gorgeous. Their vocals aren’t quite as together as they are, but I was impressed enough to vote for it on the night, and I can still see why now.
[Addendum: Finally, a wind machine! Or have I just not noticed it before?]

25 Ukraine
B: In spite of having nothing to do with it, given it’s an out-and-out ballad, this comes across as little more than a rehash of their last entry if you pay the amount of attention I’d attribute to the average viewer or listener. Do you think the white crystals she’s referring to are crystal meth?
A: Not terribly exciting, perhaps, but no musical slouch – which is something I’ve come to expect from the country. There are touches to the chorus that are almost medieval, and the bridge is a little soundscape all of its own. Mika’s vocals have the requisite fragility without sacrificing strength.
V: You’ve got to hand it to the Ukrainians: one way or another they know how to keep you watching, even when there’s plenty worth listening to alone. If Ksenya Simonova isn’t Eurovision’s next Riverdance, something’s gone wrong somewhere. Cute (and more than capable) backing vocalist. The “Oh! whatever’s going on?” moment before the performance in the final adds a thrilling beat of uncertainty to a production that’s otherwise run like clockwork.

26 Moldova
B: More tugging. Nice irony in the title. “Winner, dusk to dawn sinner / Love traded in for lust, it’s emotions I don’t trust” make a great couple of lines.
A: Direct comparisons might be lazy shorthand, but this is no Boonika Bate Doba. It has plenty of individual character – especially alongside some of the year’s more faceless entries – but is playing with a diminished hand. And puts all of its cards on the table well before it’s reached the halfway mark.
V: Vibrant backdrop, reminiscent of a Very-era Pet Shop Boys video. These three minutes seem to last at least twice as long, but I’m glad it made the final: it would have been somehow diminished without it, despite its failings.

27 Sweden
B: There’s something grittily and unashamedly desperate about these lyrics which not only suits the song (and Sweden’s intent in running with it), but also rings true.
A: Nothing new from the Swedes, or indeed Kempe, who have been giving us these entirely disconnected but expertly welded together bits of schlager for years.
V: Worldwide television phenomena are based almost entirely on this kind of thing, so it’s no surprise it made the podium. Gets the annual Sakis Rouvas award for Best Supporting Vocals.

28 Cyprus
B: Love the cheery religious overtones of “Me stavroses, me matoses ki as pethena ya sena”. Quite a mature set of lyrics, really.
A: With the Greeks and Cypriots being the only ones to corner the ethnic market this year, it was always obvious who’d come out on top. This composition is more interesting on the whole, but also diluted – yes, electric guitar, I’m looking at you – and hard to get a hold on. Not unpleasant to listen to, though, with nicely (necessarily?) measured vocals.
V: The silk purse industry is clearly flourishing on Cyprus: this is about as good as it was ever going to get. The backdrop seems to depict a field of gently swaying tethered condoms.

29 Bulgaria
B: Similar to Albania this, what with its anthemic rock pretensions and ‘lest He smite me’ bridge. At times it just sounds like garbled English, which means fun times for all making up the lyrics. I’ve already taken to calling it No You’re Not.
A: Competent but hard to love, in that every time I listen to it I want to like it a lot more than I do. Not that I can pinpoint what it should do differently, if anything, to make itself any more integral.
V: It’s like a Bulgarian lesbian sect whose only point of reference in terms of fashion is Vanilla Ninja. Poly does them proud. In the bridge, one of her backing vocalists doesn’t.

30 FYR Macedonia
B: “Ma ništo ne ja razbiram.” What’s to understand?!
A: In its opening bars this hints at being the poppiest thing FYRoM’s ever given us, barring XXL, and in its way it’s not far off. But it doesn’t really deliver on that promise, and as uncomplicated as the fun it presents us with is, it never lives us to its potential. Vlatko Ilievski’s scratchy vocals complete the picture whilst being entirely unattractive.
V: I’m surprised how very Macedonian this performance is, while a) looking nothing like one in anything but the costumes on the dancers and b) being extremely camp. The backdrop’s phenomenal, and even Vlatko sounds good.

31 Israel
B: I’m not sure anything will bring Dana redemption after this.
A: The only nice thing I can say about Ding Dong is that there are moments that make me think there’s the potential for a decent song in it somewhere.
V: As if the original studio version wasn’t devoid enough of reasons to like it, they then go and use this one to wow the massed hordes of Europe. WTF? At least the backing vocals are decent, by Israeli standards.

32 Slovenia
B: How very uncompromising and unforgiving of you, Ms Keuc. And quite right, too.
A: Slow burner, this. Builds and builds and builds. The way the strings punctuate and characterise the opening verse, before being reintroduced at the close alongside the brass to the same effect, is astounding. No one does bombast quite as fabulously at Eurovision as Slovenia.
V: Not sure the cherry blossom backdrop works, or the “I’m not a hooker, I’m an empowered woman who simply chooses to dress like one” outfits, but it doesn’t really matter, since this is all about the vocals. And here I wholly concur with the juries. (How could they get it so wrong in the first semi and so right in the second?) Maja would appear to have attended the Close But No Cigar School of English pronunciation among whose alumni Geir Rønning numbers. I’m tempted to say this is the best entry Slovenia has given us.

33 Romania
B: Come on, everybody! Together we can change the world! 8-/
A: Aah, the Denmark of the East. Perfect midweek fodder this, as evidenced by its (and indeed Finland and Iceland’s) nosedive in the final. What sets it apart from its Nordic counterparts, of course, is its production, which is workmanlike at best. It delivers, yes, but never more than it has to.
V: If anything needed changing, it was his outfit. And that awful backdrop. The vocals are as solid as a rock – (insert titillating reference to Mr Bryan’s sexcapades here) – if a little underplayed in the final.

34 Estonia
B: There is something surreal – almost dream-like – about these lyrics, but mostly in combination with the music. Apart from that, I can’t think of anything to say about them.
A: There’s a simple reason this didn’t do as well as either Popular or Lipstick: it’s not as good. It’s not bad, either, but just comes across as more generic (unbelievably, when you hold it up against Sweden). Better than most of the stuff from the Sven Lõhmus stable of shameless pop all the same, and perfectly suited to a vocalist like Ms Jaani.
V: Savvy and confident performance from Getter, making it easier to overlook the fact that she’s not much of a singer. But who cares when she’s having that much fun? Not the audience.

35 Belarus
B: I have no doubt they were forced to write this on pain of death.
A: Why would anyone vote for this? I mean really? And yet nine countries did. All of them from Eastern Europe, who should have even less reason to want to be seen to be legitimising such propaganda. I can only assume they were Russian.
V: Truly awful. She could be singing anything, anything else and it would at least just be another cheap, poorly performed and swiftly forgotten Eurovision number; this way the agitprop is completely undermined, which is exactly what it deserves. The pyros towards the end make it look like it’s self-destructing.

36 Latvia
B: What an odd amalgam these lyrics are. They give us decent lines like “Two world collide, honest and true / You’re my lullaby, passion for life, my starlit night”, only to anchor the chorus around clunkers like “Stare me with candy eyes, love me with luscious thighs”. Which in itself is classic stuff, but still.
A: Finds its level and sticks to it, so full marks for persistence, if not imagination. Lead singer Emīls has a surprisingly mature (and surprisingly sexy) voice for someone so young.
V: Well, it’s there. The guy on the guitar looks like a young Elvis Costello.

37 Denmark
B: More ‘you can do it’ than Romania’s ‘we can do it’, which as differences go is pretty subtle, but possibly helps to explain why it did so much better.
A: Of course, that has a lot to do with the packaging. New Tomorrow is the more obvious anthem of the two, and more obviously the one that is going to translate to a Saturday night audience. More palatable than their last entry, it’s nevertheless just as derivative, doing little in its composition that catches you unawares. But doing it well.
V: Look and learn, Safura – it is possible to run and sing at the same time!

38 Ireland
B: Lyrics that come ready-made for a crash-and-burn that never eventuates. “Sisters, let me tell you how it works” is only one indication of how queer this is.
A: Probably the most modern entry the Irish have come up with at Eurovision since joining in 1965. It’s clever in ways that only something aiming at commercial appeal needs to be, with some great hooks, and does a good job of disguising Jedward’s vocal limitations. Having said all that, it left me cold on first listening, which might explain why it didn’t do quite as well as expected.
V: Visually the most expansive and arguably the most impressive performance of the contest. Everything comes together for Ireland here in a way that it rarely has before at ESC, even if the vocals are no great shakes.

39 France
B: So which is it: “Cantu per a vittoria” or “mi lamentu”?* I’m glad to see that the pomposity and ultimate futility of the composition are reflected in the lyrics, which are riddled with hopelessness.
A: However genuinely gifted our Amaury may be, this is little more than marching music for the masses, and could be the first single off the back of a Susan Boyle-style Wherever’s Got Talent triumph (or indeed second place). An impeccably orchestrated one, but let’s be honest, there’s only so far that will get you.
V: I’m not sure who’s at fault here, but it all goes a bit tits-up for France, rendering Amaury’s mid-song “look at me, aren’t I special” wander away from the microphone redundant. *And from this performance it’s hard to tell.

40 Italy
B: “Se mi fermo un attimo, io non so più chi sei / ... / But someone hit me and I fell into your heart, my dear” is characteristic of the almost filmic narrative that unfolds here. I love the way the whole thing ends on the repetition of one simple word that says so much.
A: From the interaction of the instruments to the melding of the music and vocals, this is glorious; that goes without saying. But where’s the contemporary appeal?
V: I’m still amazed that Raphael came within a few douzes of victory without connecting with the camera at all: he’s no Michael Bublé. He can sing, of course, and that’s what sells it. The last note is phenomenal.

41 United Kingdom
B: Quite clever, really. The lyrics work on three levels: the relationship gone astray; the boyband reunited for one last shot at glory; and the UK picking itself up and pulling itself together after last year’s disastrous showing.
A: Classic example of the inverse ratio between how empty a song can be and how huge it can come across. It’s all synths and percussion, leaving almost all of the colour to be added by the vocals. Blue still sound good though, so that’s alright.
V: Lee – you are the weakest link. Goodbye. The decision to turn the first chorus into an early bridge is odd, four of them is enough without the LEDs and it isn’t as punchy as it needs to be, but it still holds its own, and is without doubt the strongest British entry as an overall package in a very long time.

42 Germany
B: I’m still trying to figure out if this song is about misogynistic violence towards prostitutes. Whatever: it’s a brilliant departure from the Eurovision norm. “Can’t help it if you like it ’cause I won’t be here tomorrow / No one ever told you that you wouldn’t be rejected” is one of my favourite pairs of lines in the history of music.
A: Shifting, seedy, sinister... there are all sorts of undertones to this, far and away the most original and non-conformist of the year’s compositions. It makes no concessions whatsoever. Love it.
V: Best home entry since Turkey 2004, and possibly ever. They clearly kept all of the Big 5’s graphics and lighting budget (and imagination) for themselves, and who can blame them. Lena getting her hes and shes mixed up in the lyrics only makes the narrative more intriguing.

43 Spain
B: “Y aunque sé bien que... me caeré / Sé que... he disfrutao de todo lo bailao.” That’s nice for her, isn’t it, as consolation goes.
A: Elements of the composition make this sound like the theme tune to Monarch of the Glen. And that is all I can think to say about it.
V: The backdrop to this song gives it a cheap cruise-liner feel which is both utterly shit and utterly spot-on. Vocally surprisingly solid (given the thing’s still being helmed by tousled temptress Lucía) but visually lame performance harking back to the cheesy choreography of the Operación Triunfo days. But let’s face it, that’s essentially what their national final was again this year. Just without much of the triunfo.

And so to the points...

1 point goes to Austria

2 points go to Serbia

3 points go to Switzerland

4 points go to Ireland

5 points go to Azerbaijan

6 points go to Georgia

7 points go to Italy

8 points go to Bosnia and Herzegovina

10 points go to Germany

and finally...

12 points go to...

Slovenia!!!

The wooden spoon goes to Belarus. With an honourable mention for Croatia.

2010

2010-06-27T07:11:00.000-07:00

http://www.diggiloo.net/?2010

A lacklustre year musically, by and large, but one which reinforces that 1) however good a job the 50/50 voting does of jettisoning the dross at the semi stage, the draw in the final still plays a huge part in a song’s chances of success, relative or otherwise; and 2) performances are as capable as ever of lifting or sinking a song’s chances, however good they are to begin with.

01 Moldova
B: It goes without saying that “We have no progressive future” when we’re dressed like that. Unbending, if clumsy, these lyrics.
A: Which belie the upbeat way they’re encased, to some extent. This is not an entry to dispel the idea that Eastern Europe is at least twenty years behind the Western World: it sounds like something Guru Josh would have released as an unsuccessful follow-up to Infinity. There’s very little that’s intrinsically attractive about it, bar the harmonies.
V: Blue eyeshadow was a good idea in the ’70s, and it’s the only thing from another era about this stage act that still more or less works. Hideous. The vocals are fine but nevertheless sound rather flat.

02 Russia
B: I like the fact that this just repeats itself over and over, in much the same way as the tormented thoughts that bounce around your brain in such situations. The “What are you doing man?” interlude anchors the melodrama in a moment of reality before it spins off again in its whirlwind of emotion. Not that they probably thought about it in that much depth. Mind you, the best parodies are those that are the least distinguishable from the original.
A: Lush vocal and instrumental arrangement here, which is only something you’ll appreciate if you can surmount the sheer oddity that is the song and its purpose in life. There’s nevertheless something authentic about it, and it has one of the best final minutes of any entry this year.
V: Sounds great. If only they’d made more of the ‘photo’.

03 Estonia
B: Unlikely anthem, and largely autobiographical I’d wager.
A: What a glorious oddity. It’s a bit of a cacophany in the studio, and you can understand why most people would just be perplexed by it, but you’ve got to admire its integrity. The fact that it is what it is and does what it does without any concession to the medium it’s being broadcast in can only be a good thing for the contest, whether or not you actually like the song.
V: I was stood next to our Robin in the post office the other day. He looked like Flat Stanley with yellow hair: two metres tall and half an inch thick. Very much a performance song, this: it transforms on the stage in a way you never expect it to. But whereas they got it spot on in Eesti Laul, here they overegg it (probably from having gone through the motions so many times) and overact their socks off.

04 Slovakia
B: Not sure I get what this is all about. I’d be tempted to suggest an environmental message, given all the greenery, and the oddment in the music that is the little porpoise squee post-middle eight. But by then it’s just gone all ‘haleluja’ on us. So is it a Garden of Eden thing? Kristina herself admits “Na tráve ležím a snívam / O čom sama neviem” though, so it probably doesn’t warrant a wrinkled brow.
A: I once described this as “the song this year most likely to win the award for forgetting to actually be one”. Which is possibly a little harsh, but I stand by it. You can see where it’s going, and why it wants to go there, and what it wants to achieve in getting there, but it never does. Its minimalism is effective for what it’s saying as a song, which is why I have more time for it than some other 2010 entries, but it remains little more than some synths and percussion barely held together by a vocal arrangement of which you’ve heard everything you’re going to within the first few bars.
V: Remarkably consistent vocals from Kristina, considering she’s not a particularly good singer. The routine patently wants to be more effective than it is, but I don’t know who to atribute the blame to. The stage is rather dark again, which doesn’t help.

05 Finland
B: This one’s a bit of a head-scratcher, too, but showcases Finnish in all its agglutinative glory. Who else would or could give us lines like “Sadetta ja myrskysäätä ylle kaupungin / Reikähousupelimannille pennin lantin”? (The latter of which is the first indication lyrically of the year’s multidisciplinary datedness.) The entire fourth verse – “Mitä minä laulan kun… / Mietin miksi aina uutta laulua mä teen” – could be a scene lifted wholesale from the deflated haze of non-qualification.
A: There’s something judderingly twee and off-putting about this song, not helped by the fact that it’s being sung in one of the least attractive languages on offer in the contest. I’m not qualified to question its Finnish folk credentials – there would be very little point in doing so in any case – and I’ll happily admit that it does make me want to clap along every time I hear it, but that pull is only as strong as the desire to simultaneously punch them all in the face.
V: It’s like finding yourself in the midst of some bizarre country wedding. Glad they drafted in the slightly more attractive backing vocalists-cum-dancers. They all look and sound like they’re having fun, but I’m not convinced many of those watching would have been doing anything other than shaking their heads and frowning.

06 Latvia
B: “What for are we losing? / Only Mr God knows why.”
A: This is mesmerising musically, to such an extent that even the vocals (or at least the lyrics) tend to pass you by. I’m particularly enamoured of the way the accordion here is used so completely differently to the jolly outing it’s taken on in Työlki Ellää.
V: Mr God’s phone being out of range is not the only thing that’s off the charts here, and the explanation is entirely mundane. By rights it should be a triumph, but we all know it’s not, and we all know why: Aisha can’t sing for toffee. You might argue that this is in keeping with the naivety of the lyrics – which she milks for all its worth in her performance – but if that were the case, why is the studio version so polished?

07 Serbia
B: The assertion “Ljubiš me k’o balavica” implies at least two interesting things about Milan Stanković: that out of context, at least, he should be kissing a boy when saying it (why else make the distinction?); and that he’s kissed enough girls to be able to make the comparison in the first place. One of these seems less likely to me than the other. Even if it is just a case of personification.
A: I never thought farty synths would come as such a welcome change. Every Eurovision of late has had this kind of song, destined to finish mid-table in the final because its feelgood factor only extends to selected households beyond the Alps. Accomplished in its genre, but rather limited in scope.
V: You can dress this up any way you want, he’s still off key. Not that it really matters: it’s that kind of song. It’s also the first one to make (or be granted) full use of the possibilities of the stage and lighting, and would’ve caught the audience’s attention for that alone – never mind the queer theatre playing out on stage.

08 Bosnia and Herzegovina
B: Given the rocky nature of the relationship at the heart of these lyrics – which are really rather good and much more multi-layered than they initially appear – there’s a remarkably subtle shift in tone between the studio version and live performance which changes the balance of the thing entirely: “Say just one more word” becomes “Say another word”, and suddenly Vukašin goes from being the hopeful but resigned figure of the original who will back down on the say-so of his ‘better side’ to a more forceful presence saying “we can make this work, but drop the attitude, or I’m gone”. I have no idea whether this was Dino Šaran’s intention in changing the words, but I’d like to think so.*
A: There’s stuff to like here if you pick it to pieces and sift through them, but overall it’s less than the sum of its parts. I think its biggest problem is that for a song called Thunder And Lightning it’s surprisingly backwards in coming forwards, even with the makeover. Great ending though.
V: *Since it fits the harder, more together and less compromising edge the song brandishes on stage. First and possibly only true contender for the 2010 Silk Purse/Sow’s Ear award, with some very attractive backing vocals (and vocalists) and effective lighting. I’m glad Vukašin ditched his original stance there at the end, where all through the rehearsals it looked like he was itching to pick his nose.

09 Poland
B: “Morał z tego taki jest że / Nie spodobał się rycerz jej” – hardly a moral, more a statement of the bleeding obvious. One that underscores the slight creepiness of the song generally. I don’t think we’ll be seeing The Legend of Peacock Feather in the Little Golden Book series any time soon: it’s aiming for fairytale, and more or less gets there, but it’s very dark stuff.
A: When it’s all medieval chanting and women wailing, this is great. There are also some lovely individual moments of strings, woodwind and acoustics. But Poland should have learnt from Time To Party that awkward changes in pace mid-song don’t work for them, especially when they’re structured around a largely tuneless mess they throw everything at to distract your attention from. Under any other circumstances a Eurovision entry with five key changes – count ’em! – should see us wetting ourselves. But no.
V: How… mysterious this all is. Marcin’s lush, the outfits are gorgeous and the whole thing’s a vocal triumph. But then the direction, both literally and metaphorically, gets very strange and you don’t really know what you’re meant to do with it. (I love the way he screams and jumps up and down in the green room afterwards like a kid who’s had too much sugar!)

10 Belgium
B: A set of lyrics this indulgent should irritate me, but the message is too honest and artlessly presented for me to take against it. It also surprises that something this egocentric is so accessible, as summed up in the line “There’s so much more to life”.
A: There’s an interesting parallel thing happening between this and the entry that follows it, in that essentially they’re both about the performer being self-important, and yet they never overlap. Malta’s take on it is all big strings and swirling orchestra; Belgium’s is him and his guitar: much more subdued and therefore much more palatable. And none the less accomplished for it, with beautiful acoustic and string lines that complete each other. Even the Walking In Memphis bit feels right in context.
V: The gentle orange glow suits this perfectly. Tom seems sweet and genuine; there isn’t a hint of conceit about the whole performance. The song sounds great, so it winning its semi comes as no surprise. The patented Olsen Giggle in the final is lovely.

11 Malta
B: It’s interesting (or perhaps hypocritical on my part) that I have less time for the more obvious anthem when it follows on the heels of the Belgian entry. And I think it’s because My Dream isn’t couched in the same personal terms, ironically. The intimacy which draws you in to Me And My Guitar is missing here, and the result is just… meh.
A: Meh with the requisite symphonic pretensions.
V: Meh with a seagull. That said, I was sure Thea had sung this into the final: she’s note-perfect, and does this endearing little thing whenever the opportunity presents itself of squinting her otherwise crossed eyes and giving a little smile at the end of a line. Even the pyrotechnics are effective for being so understated.

12 Albania
B: Two years in a row of mid-to-low-table results with made-to-measure English-language pop might see them change their tune on the “Don’t wanna ever go back / Never ever go back” front. (Unless that’s the point they’re making and they have no greater ambition than to keep qualifying and coming 16th in the final.)
A: In its opening 30 seconds this has all the hallmarks of something that should be really annoying for slavishly following the Europop rule book, and since it isn’t actually that good it should fall a lot shorter than it does. But there’s something about Albania doing this kind of thing, for whatever reason, that makes it work.
V: I don’t know how much it cost them to ship The Rounder Girls in from New York, but they’re worth every cent: best backing vocals of the contest. Indeed, almost the only ones heard in the final until they adjust the sound mix. Ms Pasha is more dependable vocally than her hairstyle is aesthetically, and sells the song with ease.

13 Greece
B: Politics! I wonder if “Plirosa oso hrostusa ke ta dhanika” falls into the category of ‘dream’ or ‘nightmare’. Probably both.
A: Everything I said about Serbia applies to this except ‘welcome change’ and ‘accomplished’ (and even then they were only relative terms). There’s an undeniable appeal to this for what it is, in the chorus at least, but there’s next to nothing to it.
V: This is that amazing kind of camp you only achieve when trying to prove how macho you are, but (and?) makes sense pretty much immediately. Giorgos at times looks like he’d rather be anywhere else than on stage. The singing in Greek here is less of an issue than singing in Serbian, simply because of what the song’s saying.

14 Portugal
B: There’s both a lightness of touch and a complexity to these lyrics that offset the (almost literal) hand-wringing of lines like “Gastámos as mãos / Tanto as apertámos”. It’s fairly straightforward as wretched ballads go, but it has some pertinent things to say about relationships.
A: Even without the language giving it away you’d be able to pinpoint this as the Portuguese entry without much difficulty. I’m not sure the literally plodding opening is a good idea when you’re confronted with Filipa’s vocal gymnastics (if they’re accomplished enough to be called that) within the opening bars. The way the strings carry so much of the song should see me doing cartwheels, but perhaps for the first time ever I don’t find them very attractive. The whole thing’s all too easy to overlook, really.
V: Funny how a smile, a pretty dress and some camera savvy can save you, isn’t it. The fact that it’s so pink and fluffy tends to draw your attention from the foibles of the song itself.

15 FYR Macedonia
B: “Studen kamen ti do mene si” certainly tops ‘ball and chain’ as a put-down!
A: Another solid and unassuming slice of pop rock from the Macedonians which was always going to go pfffft on the scoreboard rather than set it alight. The rap works better than you might reasonably expect it to. Neither genre though is one with a good track record at Eurovision, and this would have to have pulled off a major coup to change that.
V: Which it’s obvious within moments of this performance they were never going to. Vocally it’s great, but the choreography – which at times seems to wonder what it’s doing – and the poleless pole dancers just make the whole thing seem sleazy.

16 Belarus
B: The imagery here is rather nice as songs of its ilk go, although the third line of the chorus is crying out to be “I believe our wings will open up”. It makes a nice counterpoint to their 2009 entry (“…thinking I would never fly / Then you looked and saw my wings…”); if only it showed the same grasp of language.
A: I heartfully wait for this to do something to surprise me, every time, but it never does. Which is not to say it’s not nice in its way, but it plucks at my strings about as authentically as it does its own: given what it’s pretending to be, the fact that so much of it is synthetic is unforgivable. If fitting.
V: Is Robert Wells in cahoots with the dictatorship, or just the Russian composer? Awful accents, but that comes with the territory when it’s the Belarusian entry you’re dealing with. And fair dos to them: they get as close here to the proper pronunciation of ‘imagine’ as they’re ever likely to. If anyone had had any sense, or for that matter any say, they should have given the whole song to the Armenian one, since even when the five of them are at their best they’re still not brilliant. The wings thing works well enough, and could have been a whole lot tackier. And the stage looks lovely.

17 Iceland
B: These lyrics could have been a lot more perfunctory than they are. I rather like them. The chorus is a bit lazy.
A: As well as she intends, there’s little Hera Björk can do to lift this, the (very) poor cousin of This Is My Life. It’s many times better than the original, needless to say, but even the chorus sounds likes it’s apologising for its own shortcomings: the plinkety-plonk of the piano seems to be saying “I’m doing my best here, but it really doesn’t get any better than this”.
V: This isn’t just fat disco: it’s fat gay disco with schlager stylings and the Scandinavian touch, right down to the choreography and the arrangement (and strength) of the backing vocals. Closing the semi, looking and sounding as solid as it does and getting that level of support from the crowd, it was a shoe-in for the final. Equally, once it got there, it was always going to come down to context, and stuck in the middle with It’s All About You for company it was never likely to amount to much.

18 Lithuania
B: Now this is clever: superficially scathing and self-pitying, but ultimately tongue-in-cheek and self-deprecating, and bathetic for all the right reasons. For anyone who still doesn’t get it, the clue is in the title.
A: No musical slouch, this. The layers continue: fun and brainless on the surface, poking fun at times, but underneath there’s a clever and effective arrangement.
V: They’re playing on much more than just words here. Love the backdrop. Uniformly good vocals, and I still think the routine works, although it does get a bit busy in the second verse.

19 Armenia
B: Eva’s mother must have been a barrel of laughs, what with all the embittered pontificating. “Mum, I’m hungry!” “Silence, child! Our world is cruel and wild. To make your way through cold and heat, love is all that you need… In the meantime, here: have an apricot.” It’s a slightly bemusing concept, even for an ode to the motherland – the ultimate diaspora song, really, given who it’s being sung by – but that also makes it interesting. I love the line “I’ve got an avatar of my love to keep me warm”.
A: Now this is a treat and a half if, like me, some acoustics, strings and percussion will do you. Soon retreats behind MOR ethnopop lines, and not coincidentally sounds exactly like Armenia’s debut entry, but at the same time it’s more all-encompassing than some of the stuff they’ve given us.
V: There’s way too much going on on stage here: as if two metres of Angelina Jolyerevan and her layers of make-up weren’t enough, we have to contend with an old guy smoking a super-sized cigar, a fireworks display, a bubbling water feature, a guy dancing around holding an urn and a fortune cookie that erupts into a cherry blossom tree. At least the backing vocals are good.

20 Israel
B: It’s clear from the translation on Diggiloo that the poetry of these lyrics doesn’t, well... translate. There are some very distinct concepts that just seem a bit odd in English, although I’m sure it sounds magical in Hebrew. The bridge is very powerful for being less flowery in its honesty.
A: From the off this has to work hard not to come across as overblown, and it’s only really Harel’s measured delivery of the vocals for the first couple of minutes that rein in the excesses it otherwise threatens to shower us with. And indeed I could do without the shouty ending, since there’s enough genuine emotion on display elsewhere. The orchestral arrangement, as orchestral arrangements tend to be, is captivating.
V: What funny ears Harel has. Looks like you could fry eggs on his forehead, too. Stunning lighting, by which our hero is mercilessly outshone as he overreaches himself – twice – in his big moment.

21 Denmark
B: “Da da-da da da da-daaaa-da / Da da-da da da da daaaa / Da-da da da da da daaaa-da / Da da da da-da daaaa da.”
A: The blatant ‘referencing’ this does (not to mention the rather charmless duo fronting it) means I should turn my nose up at it, but you can’t ignore that it succeeds at what it’s trying to do. It’s schlager at its most calculating and effective, and therefore least appealing.
V: Plod plod plod. The direction’s the best thing about this performance. Could two performers be any more off-putting? I don’t think we see either of them blink. I keep urging N’evergreen’s glass eye to pop out at some point as a metaphor for the fact that it doesn’t really look like he wants to be there and is just going through the paces, literally and vocally. It all gets very shouty towards the end in the final.

22 Switzerland
B: As if it wasn’t gay enough basically calling a song Golden Shower, it then drips with ‘secrets communs’ and ‘regards échangés’. Very romantic though, in every sense of the word.
A: If this was sung by a woman, or by a man who didn’t sound like one, I’m sure I’d find it far less annoying. There’s something about Mr von der Heide’s voice that simply makes me not want to listen to all three minutes of it, despite the song holding its own. The triangular balalayka thing is a nifty inclusion, albeit one that would prove to get them nowhere with the audience it was presumably meant to speak to. (By then it was only the gays and the ’80s tragics still watching.)
V: Utterly Swiss. The hair and fashion are from another era altogether, but then so’s the song. I don’t really get why the backing vocalists are there, since our Michael sings over the top of them virtually every opportunity he gets. They only come into their own at the end.

23 Sweden
B: Load of bollocks, these lyrics. They’re aiming for deep and meaningful, but are very much in the shallow end. The only point at which they come close to doing what they set out to is in the middle, with lines like “I don’t wanna win, I don’t wanna lose / I don’t wanna play, I just wanna remember / …my name”.
A: Each time I listen to this I like it more – there’s certainly much to admire in the ingenuousness of its composition. But sometimes you just have to go with first impressions, and my first impressions were that it was both a little bit dull and a little bit irritating.
V: Still, it deserved a place in the final ahead of at least a couple of other songs here on the strength of this performance, if nothing else. Red and black phasing to white makes a great colour scheme. Why do so many of the teenage girls look about 45 this year?

24 Azerbaijan
B: In the pre-contest conviction among many that the Azeris were a shoe-in for victory, people were quick to discount Drip Drop as being deserving of just about anything, and yet lyrically at least it’s an accurate depiction of a relationship that’s falling apart. One line that’s been the subject of particular derision – “You smell like lipstick again” – strikes me as being very believable as reactions to the situation go. The bridge resonates, too.
A: Without doubt the entry trying hardest this year to sound like something you might actually hear being produced in 2010, but for all that – or possibly because of it – it’s a little underwhelming. It also suffers in its final thirty seconds from having to adhere to the three-minute rule, feeling cramped and awkward. Not in a way that detracts from how obviously well produced it is, mind.
V: Eurgh, that glove. The rest of it’s alright, although Safura’s vocals are tested by the routine as much as her balance is on that staircase, and the ending’s a bit of a mess. Nice to see her smile at the end. Their choice to soften the vocals on the ‘drip drop’ bit is an interesting one. The backing vocalists look like they were left over from a Spanish entry ca 1989.

25 Ukraine
B: This has come in for a fair bit of stick ’n’ all, rather unfairly if you ask me. Alright, it doesn’t read like something a native speaker would pen, and lines like “Must you go on killing / Just to pass the time” jar a little, but the message is pertinent.
A: And as much as it makes me roll my eyes, I have more time for it and the way Alyosha delivers it than the drowsy approach taken by Anna Bergendahl. Social conscience with loads of reverb. It’s by no means a favourite, neither this year nor among Ukraine’s body of work at the contest, but I have a respect for it I doubt will shift.
V: Alyosha might write her own songs, but does she also run up her own clothes, or was her outfit cobbled together from whatever was left of the Ukrainian purse strings? It’s an unwanted distraction in what is otherwise a powerhouse performance – one that gets even better between semi and final – that looks amazing.

26 The Netherlands
B: If only the line in the second verse had remained “Of kwam het uit een café in zo’n straatje, we waren in Leningrad” the song would have been just as successfully carbon-dated by its lyrics as it is by its music.
A: Who would ever have thought, given the pedigree of the men involved and the similarities in the selection process, that the Dutch entry would end up being so much better than the British one? Not that that’s much of a yardstick. This is still wrong on just about every level bar that of the TROS board and audience who thought it was a good idea… and yet there is something about it that raises a smile, however grudging. “Het gaat niet uit m’n kop” indeed. I was hoping it would qualify and then be drawn first ahead of Spain for that full 1973 effect.
V: Colourful, isn’t it. And summed up by the look on the face of the guy playing the clockwork drummer on the street organ. I hope this doesn’t prove to be the highlight of his career in light entertainment. Sieneke is surprisingly strong.

27 Romania
B: Tut @ fire/desire/higher, although “If we get together now, we’ll burn this place down” is the perfect lead-in to the chorus.
A: Bombastic in a way that has become something of a trademark with Romanian entries, and all the better for it, given the rest of the field. It may not be very challenging, but it’s solid, it’s immediate, it has plenty of hooks and it’s playing to an audience from Iceland to Israel.
V: Paula’s semi-final hair and make-up are a TV disaster: it looks like she just got out of bed. Her vocals, needless to say, suggest otherwise, as she nails the high notes. Professional if rather static performance that’s more cohesive vocally in the final. Ovi proves to be the first of two Norwegians to take an interesting approach to their English this year.

28 Slovenia
B: Well, it makes a whole lot more sense when you know what they’re on about.
A: It’s the song that came second-last in the Yugoslav final in 1988. Quite how it managed to win the national final so overwhelmingly boggles the mind, although I suppose it has a certain charm. A bit like the Netherlands, it’s easy to sing along to (largely because it repeats the same handful of notes over and over again, particularly in the chorus), which is its saving grace. I like to strip it of its rock trappings and imagine it all in terms of Y Así polka fabulousness.
V: Credit where it’s due: as wrong as this is on most levels, it’s right on the rest.

29 Ireland
B: Without doubt the least palatable of the 2010 anthems: any set of lyrics that paints the performer as such a self-righteous saviour is going to get my back up.
A: It’s a bit churlish in Eurovision of all things to criticise songs for lack of originality, but come on, we’ve heard this kind of thing a hundred times before: you can’t help but line it up in your head against all the other anthems that sound exactly like this. The drummy bit at the start of each chorus is a mistake, adding to the excess of heralding.
V: Purple and orange never look good together, and neither does the mouldy cheese backdrop, although it seems somehow appropriate. Niamh looks like she’s strapped onto a board and is not nearly as convincing vocally as anyone might have expected her to be; from the key change to the last note she’s as flat as a tack in the semi, and doesn’t quite get the big last note either time. The whole thing comes across as a pale imitation of what Ireland would have done much better about fifteen years ago.

30 Bulgaria
B: More of a ballad than an anthem, but in any case it has the advantage over It’s For You immediately by being “Ljubovta ti go dokazva” rather than “My love proves it”. And for being so understated, given what it’s saying.
A: This builds superbly, and by the time the beat comes in you’re convinced it should be the best example of trashy pop of its kind you’ve ever heard. Then it forgets to have a chorus.
V: Something Miro could have gotten around by using it as an excuse to invoke some audience participation, getting everyone to sing along to his challenging lyrics, but alas I suspect he was more concerned about his spray tan (when he should, evidently, have been concerned about his hideous hairdo and Elvis outfit). None of the oomph of the strings is lost in the performance, thankfully. The fact that the English verse is given a completely different vocal arrangement is a boon.

31 Cyprus
B: “I hope someday you’ll spot me in the crowd / Smile and say you miss me” is lovely for being delivered without a shred of bitterness. You’d have to hope most people had been lucky enough at some point to identify with the ‘make me immortal with a kiss’ thing.
A: Those backing vocals in the first verse thrust us back into the 1970s with aplomb, offsetting the more contemporary boyband sound of Mr Lilygreen’s delivery. The whole thing, though, right down to the sentiment, is a throwback, so the vocal arrangement is just right. (And of course it also means that it fits in perfectly among the rest of the 2010 field.) The chorus does everything it can to persuade you to remain interested, and more or less does. Somehow the overall effect is to give the song a genuine emotional tug that most of its rivals lack.
V: Delightfully homespun. You just want it to do well, don’t you?

32 Croatia
B: Ouch: this has the honest precision of a self-inflicted paper cut. It’s pathetic, too, but in a good way, since ‘na licu mome piše izdaja’. The whole third verse – “Zadnjim snagama sad stojim tu pred tobom / Dušu razdiru mi bure nemira / Teže mi je riješit ovu bol sa sobom / Jer ti si prevaren a mene ubija” is a torturous triumph.
A: This pushes more of my ballad buttons than anything else on offer this year, but it’s quite clearly Molitva-light. More modern in its approach, though, and neatly self-contained, which I appreciate.
V: The new one’s an effective anchor for Neda and Pamela, who tend to let their excitement run away with them at times, but in harmony they sound great. Pity about the croaky bit. Very pretty performance, and there’s another modern touch in the choreography.

33 Georgia
B: Probably the most accessible of the anthems on offer this year (although again without the personal touch of the Belgian entry), I’ve nevertheless found myself wondering whether it isn’t a metaphor for the Georgian struggle for self-assertion in the face of Russian grandstanding. But then it was written by a bunch of Norwegians, so probably not.
A: Far more attractive a prospect than Peace Will Come, precisely because it’s not being layered on with a trowel. Despite the standard approach, there’s a welcome contemporary edge to this that sets it apart from all of the other anthems being rolled out in Oslo.
V: Waaaaaagh, not the Eurovision wink! Engrossing piece of theatre otherwise, with sparkling vocals from one and all.

34 Turkey
B: This is pretty clever in the sense that you can interpret it just about any way you want, and in that sense it’s a perfect Song for Europe. Or at least Western Europe, when you consider who the majority of countries were who didn’t give it any points.
A: It’s For Real and Deli with the excesses – and let’s be honest, much of the character – stripped back to produce something designed to appeal to a much broader swathe of Europe than most Turkish entries do. And as contrived as it inevitably comes across, it still works; just feels a little flat and lifeless in places when it should be anything but either.
V: They could be playing on a completely different stage. The lighting is just what the song needs / an epileptic’s nightmare [delete as appropriate] and the song sounds huge, although Welding Woman and her robot antics are a bit pointless. The way her helmet falls off in the semi says it all.

35 Spain
B: Enormous amounts of words, as is so often the case with the Romance languages. Lovely rhythm to them in the verses. The way the ultimatum is delivered in the lines “En tus manos tienes la occasion / Hoy decides si quererme o romperme el corazón” is great.
A: Another of the year’s many entries that transport us, unblinking and unbidden, to a bygone era. It’s rather good in its way, but with limited appeal both generally and in itself: beyond the first minute or so there’s little to hold the attention bar the way the vocals spiral out of control.
V: Which indeed they do, both times, although Daniel Diges is a consummate professional throughout The Incident. Indeed, no one even seems to notice there’s a dude in a beanie on stage with them. Makes the sudden appearance of the backing vocalist all the more exciting, especially during take two.

36 Norway
B: Although this does what it says on the tin, the effect is as dim and unreachable as the sunset behind that mountain somewhere.
A: Well, it’s the Irish entry without the associations to the Titanic soundtrack, isn’t it. Does nothing you haven’t heard before, takes forever to even do it, and then doesn’t do it any better.
V: Didrik looks pretty, but he lets the occasion get the better of him to such an extent that what little the song has to recommend it is lost beneath his nerves. It was bound to be warmly received in the Telenor arena, but it’s honestly one of the worst host entries in the contest in a long, long time. And what’s with his diction? If it were any more clipped it would be circumcised.

37 United Kingdom
B: “I can feel it coming together / … / There’s nothing left to do now / … / And we can let the future write itself” and “Anything is possible to do” (and the sheer clunkiness of the latter) are so ironically appropriate they could have discarded the rest of the lyrics and left it at that.
A: And there we were thinking the demo version trotted out on Your Country Needs You was lame: this is sub-Jason Donovan B-side, and that’s saying something. It could, and should, have been so much better; instead, shorn of Matt Aitken’s talents – without doubt the true song-writer in SAW – it’s the worst British entry in decades.
V: Ikea has become so huge it gets its own entry in Eurovision. Josh is charmingly feckless and makes a decent fist of it. The backing vocalists hit as big of a bum note as the lad himself does there at the end.

38 France
B: “Prends-moi par le côté... / La la, ça va chauffer, je sens le truc monter” is worth a titter or two. Mmm!
A: I originally had this down as “probably the worst song Eurovision has heard since Celebrate”, but the competition for that title with That Sounds Good To Me makes it too close to call. At least, unlike the UK entry, Allez Ola Olé never gets ideas above its station or claims to be anything it’s not. But you’ve still heard all you’re ever going to within the first 30 seconds.
V: It’s like Verka, but not nearly as entertaining. Great colour scheme and lighting. The shirtless backing vocalist should have been given an on-screen credit (and been centre screen a whole lot more!). Does Jesse actually sing at all?

39 Germany
B: Very neat, mixing the scientific references (which make very good lyrics in their own right: “Like a satellite, I’m in orbit all the way around you” and “…you got me / A force more powerful than gravity / It’s physics, there’s no escape”) with the down-to-earth stuff like blue undies and painting toenails.
A: Mainstream radio’s bread and butter, this. Given it’s Lena’s vocals and performance that sell the song, it’s refreshing to hear the song denuded of them and realise there’s a brilliant piece of music beneath it all that has just as much character of its own: I could listen to the instrumental version on a loop and never get tired of it.
V: For all the arguments about Lena’s accent, this is the most unaffected Germany entry – and indeed winner – in years. It’s a great song to have won the whole shebang, too, because that’s precisely what it is: just Lena and her backing vocalists on stage. No props, no gimmicks, no special effects. And it’s brilliant.

And so to the points...

1 point goes to Lithuania

2 points go to Ukraine

3 points go to Armenia

4 points go to Sweden

5 points go to Turkey

6 points go to Croatia

7 points go to Azerbaijan

8 points go to Georgia

10 points go to Belgium

and finally...

12 points go to...

Germany!!!

The wooden spoon goes to the United Kingdom.

2009

2010-03-12T04:49:00.000-08:00

http://www.diggiloo.net/?2009

Production values which are unlikely ever to be surpassed, and artistic merit to boot. Song-wise there’s plenty to like, but I’m not sure there are many enduring classics among them.

01 Montenegro
B: “Everybody’s talkin’ ’bout all the things I’m missin’” says it all really. Although the twist in the tale is probably quite a clever observation of relationships that aren’t good for you, it’s still a bit lame.
A: Two has-been Germans and a Spanish schlager queen do not a successful song-writing team make. The way the vocal arrangement is so tightly interwoven with the strings in the verses is annoying, given that (i) that’s the last thing either of them should be and (ii) they’re both far more interesting in the chorus.
V: A much slicker performance than I would have expected, although the choreography is cheesy. The swivel chair makes it look as though Andrea’s about to conduct a current affairs show interview. Her vocals are good, but eclipsed by those of the backing vocalists, which are fabulous. I wonder why they chose to hide them from public view on such an empty stage.

02 Czech Republic
B: There’s something very right about how wrong these lyrics are, especially when paired with the intentionally hammy, low-budget preview video.
A: Lots of innovative touches to this when you listen for them, especially when the backing track is shed of its vocals.
V: Much of this subtlety is lost in the transition from studio to stage, unfortunately. This has much more in common with Push The Button than simply going second in the (first) semi: its worthiness is worn away by a performance that just goes on and on, nullifying any comic appeal (which is nevertheless brilliantly captured in the stage). Surprising depth to the vocals.

03 Belgium
B: I love the transition from “he’s too fat to rock ‘n’ roll” to “he’s too dead to rock ‘n’ roll”. The lyrics as a whole are pretty clever actually, although some lines jar.
A: For a genre I was never part of and have never really gotten into, this is surprisingly easy to like from the get-go. I think it’s because of the obvious but unaffected feel-good factor. Bosnia and Herzegovina & co. have tried stuff like this many times and never gotten close to its authenticity or sense of fun.
V: If Mr Ouchène was going for that tail-end-of-career Elvis look – slightly greasy and altogether unappealing – he got it just right. He does pretty well for someone who clearly had the ‘Eurovision throat’, but is outshone by the glamorous and aloof backing vocalists.

04 Belarus
B: Lines like “Guide me through this barren sky” leave themselves wide open, although in fairness this is probably the best set of lyrics Belarus has given us. There’s certainly a genuine tug to at least some of it.
A: Carbon-dated within the first few seconds of its life. I feel only Turkey has the right and the wherewithal to produce thirty-second instrumental openings to their Eurovision entries, although the furrow this etches in my brow soon turns to a grudging admiration of how together it sounds. Kind of like In My Dreams, but without being anywhere near as attractive.
V: The sheeted figure being blown about by the wind machine is intriguing but doesn’t add a lot to the performance. Petr has a touch of ’80s glamour about him that only leaves me wondering what happened to the shoulder pads. Vocally he’s not as strong as I thought he would be, but the song sounds better than it has a right to. I love the cat’s eye motif.

05 Sweden
B: So are we assuming Fredrik Kempe penned the English bits and Malena Ernman the French bits? Either way neither part offers any interest, and overall they say just as little as those Hero gave us last year.
A: Discard the vocals here and you realise just how empty those verses are. The chorus is a more enticing proposition, but only because of the opera. The loveliest bit – the strings – is largely lost among the pop requisites.
V: Considering the Swedes were forced to think about their stage routine this year rather than transplant it in toto from Melodifestivalen, they didn’t do a very good job of it. Neon green? Midnight blue suits against a black background? And what, if anything, ties in with the supposed ice queen theme? It only starts to look good after the key change. Performance-wise there’s little wrong with it, but it fails to whelm me in any way whatsoever. Ms Ernman clearly enjoys herself though. The ghost bits at the start make me think we’re about to see the Eurovision debut of the Cybermen.

06 Armenia
B: Once again the lyrics in Armenian make me wish the country would give us an entry entirely in the language. The English verses are a bit perplexing, but once it hits its stride as a simple invocation it makes more sense.
A: I always find myself prepared to dismiss this, and yet every time it redeems itself for its drive and energy and for actually having a sense of going somewhere. The purely instrumental version is a joy. By the time the key change kicks in everything has come together perfectly.
V: “Fixed like a tree” is a more apt description of the performance Inga & Anush put in than their assertion that they wanna dance. Glad they dropped the make-up for the final that made them look cross-eyed in the semi. I love the contrast of the modern feel to the backdrop with the very traditional elements of the music (which is nevertheless itself very contemporary in places). Flawless, if breathless, vocals. The laser show’s a bit crap.

07 Andorra
B: I suppose a lot of what is being said here could be seen as a metaphor for the principality’s participation in Eurovision. You can read a lot into it, anyway. “És el moment de corregir” kind of backfired on them.
A: I’m taking it with a pinch of salt that it took five people to compose this. Great poppy feel and rhythm, but where’s the ambition? (Q.v. “Where is Andorra?”)
V: She’s obviously enjoying herself from the off, and that’s the most endearing aspect of this performance. I don’t even mind when she messes up the big note, because the rest of the time she’s fine, and gorgeous. They might have wanted to turn the wind down, given it’s as audible as the backing vocals.

08 Switzerland
B: “May I have your attention please” is a great line. Pity no one took any heed of it. In this case though I would certainly agree that “it’s always worth a try”.
A: I might be wrong but I still think nothing else from 2009 sounded as contemporary and charty as this, despite the fact it comes across as rather New Order. I suppose, buoyed by Deli’s success the previous year, I foolishly assumed the likes of it would go down well with televoters. Harrumph. What do they know? It’s still fantastique.
V: That is without doubt the most amazing backdrop we will ever see in Eurovision. I still fail to see what’s so affected or disappointing about the performance – his voice is meant to sound like that. Works a treat for me.

09 Turkey
B: As if it wasn’t obvious anyway, the lyrics here both read and scan like they’re trying their damnedest to do a paparizou. “No one can kiss like you do / As if it’s your profession” is quite good.
A: The few times I’ve heard this since the final I’ve tried very, very hard to see what the juries clearly thought was so good about it to allow it to finish 4th. And I still can’t. A more workmanlike composition in this bunch would be hard to find. If they were voting for it on its international hit appeal alone I might grant them some sanity, but that doesn’t make it a worthy piece of music.
V: I love the way scantily clad belly-dancing women is all anyone ever expects of Turkey and yet that is the very reason Turkey gives for censoring its own entries. Everything about Hadise screams overreaching underachiever to me, although I’ll concede it sounds great – despite the terrible sound mix (both times), and probably because she doesn’t sing half of the choruses. The whole performance is just unconvincing.

10 Israel
B: I love the way the Hebrew, Arabic and English work so well together, and not just in terms of not sounding awkward, but in how they manage to get the same ideas across in each and still make it so poetic. Makes it much easier to forgive the propaganda it nevertheless represents.
A: Wonderful acoustics and percussion, but the Hammond keyboard still sounds a little odd in parts. Impressive overall though in the way the music ties itself together with the lyrics.
V: The remix here manages to be both major and subtle at the same time. As amazing as the vocals are, they don’t blend quite as well as I’d hoped. There’s something of an edge to both ladies’ voices that makes it seem like a competition between them at times. The audience is loving it though.

11 Bulgaria
B: “It feels so wrong.”
A: Taken in isolation, the musical score provides any number of reasons to like the song. But put them all together – and, crucially, throw in the vocals – and it just doesn’t work.
V: So many shades of wrong you can’t even begin to distinguish them, and it simply never ends. Give the wailing one who looks a bit like Wonder Woman her own entry!

12 Iceland
B: The lyrics alone fail to elevate this above the usual ballad fare, but...
A: ...pair them with a lovely and very well-balanced arrangement and...
V: ...a note-perfect performance and the whole thing is taken to a level you might never have expected it to attain. Perfection. The last minute is Goosebump Central for me. I wonder whether, in Norway’s absence, it would have won.

13 FYR Macedonia
B: There’s a frankness and openness to the words here that belie the in-your-face pop-rockiness of their delivery.
A: …as evidenced by the wonderful freefall moments opening the verses. As ever I have some trouble deciding whether the composition is accomplished or not, but whatever its musical credentials, it works for me. The “yeah yeah!” bits are the undeniably super glue holding it all together.
V: I love this performance. Stefan looks effortlessly sexy, and I find it hard to believe at times that that voice is coming out of him when he looks like he barely even has to try.

14 Romania
B: “I wonder if beyond this / There could be something better” is an appropriate question for something showcasing little more than girly drinks and dancing.
A: When it came down to the big reveal at the end of the first semi I automatically railed against Romania’s qualification, mostly because of the song itself rather than performance, and despite the fact I’d had little if anything bad to say about it prior to the night. Listening to it now for the umpteenth time only makes me realise again that it’s rather good. For what it is.
V: Still not sure if the pixie theme works for this kind of song, but they all look great, and the cherry blossom effect is nice. The vocals are brilliant when you remember there’s essentially only two people delivering them.

15 Finland
B: I love the way a song called Lose Control marks the lowest point for Finland in the contest in years. Consecutive qualifications may seem like a victory of sorts, but their decline has been swift. “Is this my reality?” seems like a rhetorical question under the circumstances.
A: The Finns have a thing for doing the ’90s at Eurovision at a time when no one else is, and it’s never brought them any success. Which is not a reflection of the songs themselves necessarily; their timing, more than anything. There’s not a lot wrong with this, but as per Romania it’s a case of “...for what it is”.
V: Karoliina Kallio has moments of looking scarily like Celine Dion. Another very effective backdrop here, but everything on stage looks (and sounds) a bit crap really. Excellent direction.

16 Portugal
B: Easily the most romantic lyrics of the contest, and once again supremely Portuguese. The alliteration and elision somehow make them even more attractive.
A: Wonderful to listen to as a piece of music. Multi-layered and uplifting in a way that seems entirely natural.
V: Conversely, there’s always something about the way these kinds of songs are staged that makes them feel a little bit corny and forced, even though they’re neither. I’m glad Ms Varela gets to grips with her nerves during the second verse in the semi, even if her blubbing mini-breakdown at the end suggests otherwise. She’s on song from the off in the final, bless her.

17 Malta
B: Load of bollocks, these lyrics: they sound as though they should say something, but they don’t. What does “Mystify our wisdom in time” mean?
A: I do like the way the musical and vocal arrangements go off on their own tangents for almost the entire song but still work together so well. It’s a pity then that both music and lyrics strive for such import but never manage much more than trite.
V: I understand why they played with the vocal arrangement – let’s face it, how else were they going to make it more exciting? – but Chiara surprises me by overegging the pudding from the outset here. She’s as strong as ever, but for the first time fails to make that strength attractive. She clearly also has a limited routine: stand behind microphone ---> point a bit ---> Eurovision wink ---> take microphone from stand ---> wobble head ---> waddle forward. By the time we get to the final I’ve completely forgotten she forms part of the line-up.

18 Bosnia and Herzegovina
B: Lines like “Nemaš sutra, nemaš danas / Lako je, kad ti pjesma srce nađe” are more than enough to tell you that there are layers and layers of meaning to this. Not that you’d expect otherwise from a song of its ilk. Lovely.
A: Wins my award for the most complex and effective arrangement of the year by a large margin. Utterly beguiling.
V: I think I get the stilted performance, and it truly is a performance, but the lead singer is clearly and somewhat shockingly riddled with nerves. He manages to camouflage it with some Belinda Carlislesque vocals, but it’s indicative of a routine that isn’t as together as it should be, unfortunately. Better in the final though, and the ending still sounds tremendous.

19 Croatia
B: Some delightful if bemusing concepts in the lyrics here which are very probably cultural and/or linguistic: turning tears into cotton? I love the delicacy of “Umorne oči odmaraš / Začaraš”.
A: The return of Mr & Mrs Huljić is well worth the wait. This is another charming composition from Croatia and puts me in mind of You Are The Only One. Apart from the obvious exception, the Balkans have been producing some outstanding percussive numbers this year.
V: They certainly made Igor Cukrov look a whole lot more shaggable than he ever used to. He has an odd voice that always sounds like it’s half a moment’s distraction from going completely off the chart, which I suppose makes it all the more remarkable that he doesn’t. As lovely as she is, I’m not sure Andrea adds much to this. But then I wouldn’t have chosen black as the colour scheme either, and it works. Once again someone’s left the wind machine set on ‘gale force’ rather than ‘gentle breeze’.

20 Ireland
B: You can just see the American teen choreography playing out in unlikely locations around the high school campus as you read these lyrics. “I’ve heard that oh so many times” sums up the song and story perfectly.
A: Everything that’s right about this song is largely what’s wrong with it, too. It’s hard to fault, but harder to care about.
V: Vocally a lot better than I thought it would be, but nothing screams lack of television experience louder than Sinéad’s shifty eyes. Plus it all just looks a bit... meh.

21 Latvia
B: A whole lot about this song is captured in the line “Nyeprastaya eta zabava”. It’s as clever and meaningful as it is complex and challenging. I still prefer the Latvian version, Sastrēgums, which if anything has even more depth; in particular the lines “Cik tad var no dzīves atteikties?” and “Tālāk tiec vien tad kad sakustas cits”.
A: Even if I didn’t love this song I would still recognise its quality; most people seem to be able to do neither. Whatever. It’s their loss. Because it’s fucking awesome!
V: Like Mr Cukrov, our Intars is looking way more tasty here than I’d ever seen him before. Especially if you go for the whole man-having-breakdown thing. I can understand entirely why next to no one got this, but that doesn’t make it any less impressive. The hand thing remains fascinating for being so inscrutable.

22 Serbia
B: Great rhythm to the chorus here in a song whose lyrics show it to be far more than the novelty entry it’s presented as, even if it exhibits that typical Balkan economy in simply repeating itself once it gets to the halfway mark.
A: There’s a lot to like here. The bassline in particular is fab.
V: The nearest thing we get to a joke entry all year and it still has more character and more to say than all of last year’s put together. The backdrop is fantastic, as is the routine, but while I never get tired of admiring the scenery, the stage show and song soon both start to drag in a way that is only rivalled by Aven Romale.

23 Poland
B: The sentiment here’s quite sweet, really.
A: The composition’s a bit backward in coming forward given one of the people behind it was called Mr Boomgaarden. The verses are very one-dimensional when you take away the vocals, but the chorus is nice. The orchestration, as it tends to be, is beautiful throughout, and by the two minute mark it’s all working together rather well.
V: Poor Lidia: before she’s even reached the first chorus you just know she won’t be putting in a performance that’ll surprise and excite, or even impress particularly. She’s by no means incompetent – some notes are very strong – but there’s just so little to it. She has one of the best dresses of the contest though. The white gospel backing vocals are brilliant considering there are only three of them. To this day I have taken no notice whatsoever of the rhythmic gymnastics.

24 Norway
B: For all the light-and-airiness of this, the lyrics paint an accurate picture of relationships and are very self-aware.
A: Redefines what it means to be canny. The greatest strength of the song is its chameleon-like quality of coming from everywhere at once. Whether or not it’s especially good is another matter.
V: And in an instant Poland is all but forgotten. The graphics are gorgeous but a little too dark for me, and I still find Alexander strangely unappealing as a performer, even if I recognise the appeal he undoubtedly has for other people. The same goes for the song and performance if I’m honest. I don’t begrudge it its victory at all, but I’m not sure I ever want to see or hear it again, because as good as it is, it’s still not brilliant. (Musically at least. The coordination of the dancers is amazing.)

25 Cyprus
B: The imagery in this works really well, matched with the whole little girl thing: sweet without being too sugary. I’m not sure about the logic in the lines “But believe me, it’s best to let go / Don’t just go with the flow”.
A: Not so much a piece of music as a sequence of sound effects for the better part of a minute, this is nevertheless surprisingly effective for its minimalism. In fact as an overall concept it works very well.
V: Talk about making a silk purse out a sow’s ear. Cyprus honestly couldn’t have hoped for better from this performance.

26 Slovakia
B: As languages go, Slovak must be even more to the point than Estonian if it can fit a concept like ‘fly through the darkness’ into the two words leť tmou. It’s rather dark for such a powerful ballad, appropriately I suppose, but doesn’t do much to sway my view that the language is one of the clunkiest-looking and -sounding in the contest.
A: Striking piece of music with some bold instrumentation, but it fails to convince me in the way something like it should.
V: The sound mix here isn’t great, but doesn’t affect the performance much. Kamil looks like he’s tottering in having woken up in a gutter after his best friend’s wedding. Fantastic vocals, but they’re still not pretty. The art gallery effect is about the first to make full use of the possibilities of the staging if you ask me.

27 Denmark
B: Many a great couplet here in lines like “I saw you beside me / You never saw me there at all” and “I never imagined I’d find you / And lose myself instead”. It’s true that the line leading into the chorus comes out every time as “I never had a picture of her nan”.
A: There is an Irish feel to this, but at the same time it could still be 100% Danish, so you’ve got to wonder how much of a hand Ronan Keating really had in it. Did he even turn up in Moscow for the final as promised? The guitars are great.
V: Blue is clearly the new red. (Was red the predominant colour in Belgrade as well, after Helsinki? I can’t remember.) So much of this performance seems geared towards not exposing Brinck’s shortcomings, from his posture to the curtailed vocals in various lines of the chorus. His reaction upon completing the song in the final without completely fucking it up says it all. I chose to give him the benefit of the doubt after the national final, but as a performer he really isn’t very strong – which is a shame, because the song is. I see he was sitting on the Montenegrin office chair there at the beginning.

28 Slovenia
B: Six words: “Out of time, out of place”.
A: Is Andre Babić destined to become the next Ralph Siegel? If this Hooked On Classics also-ran is anything to go by, I suspect he is.
V: Dump the other three-quarters of Quartissimo and give me the shorter one now! I love the way the backdrop is flipping through pages of music as if seeking inspiration, or perhaps the source of the plagiarism. The bits in Slovene sound terrible.

29 Hungary
B: Never has a song been truer to its lyrics than here with admissions like “It’s an overload in a disco fantasy”. It’s so utterly and unashamedly queer. The line “In the middle of the night we dance till we get sore” would make a great (if obvious) blankety blank if you replaced ‘dance’ with ‘_____’.
A: I suppose if you’re a gay and you’re going to pinch an intro from anyone it might as well be Madonna. There are worse things to be accused of copying than Vogue. Mind you, there are more things that this song could be accused of plagiarising than just Vogue, too. But it’s discotastic and I love it, especially coming from a country I thought would never give us anything of the sort.
V: This isn’t helped by the worst sound mix of the contest, but then very little about the performance works anyway. As much as I love the song, I can’t wait for it to end. In its own way it’s as appalling a three minutes as Bulgaria. Poor Zoli won this year’s Barbara Dex award, and it was entirely deserved.

30 Azerbaijan
B: These lyrics are cleverer than they initially appear or indeed need to be. I especially like the lines “Suddenly you stand beside me / And I see a million burning stars”.
A: For an Azerbaijani-Iranian-Greek-Swedish mash-up, only one of these really stands out in the composition. It stood out from the first time I heard it, which is when it also convinced me that it would be in there with a chance in May, despite coming across in parts as dorky as Arash himself does. It’s still obviously missing a key change.
V: It could be the cast of the Eastenders chip shop performing this – you know, the Token Asian Family. The song makes perfect Eurovision sense, sounds huge and earns enormous support in the arena. Arash is a dork, but at least he never gets ideas above his station.

31 Greece
B: Question: How do two native speakers of English come up with lyrics this banal?
A: Answer: They must have heard the music and decided it wasn’t worth their while overextending themselves. I loved the way the deluded Greek fanboys defended this to their last breath as the most fresh and modern-sounding song in the contest, not merely because it was immediately followed by the Lithuanian entry.
V: Tit dance! Alex Panayi was robbed of an on-screen credit here. The performance is genius, but then it had to be, since there were never going to be any other laurels to rest on.

32 Lithuania
B: I can see why the chorus might make some people roll their eyes, but I like it and actually think the repetition works.
A: Piano! Brilliant arrangement. I suppose my one consolation is that this at least made it to the final when Switzerland didn’t.
V: Whether or not they got the backdrop they asked for, this performance suffers the moment Sasha abandons the piano, when it all starts to get very affected. And whether or not it’s his mother tongue, the Russian sounds nowhere near as good as the English, or even the Lithuanian for that matter. Bah!

33 Moldova
B: Well, the lyrics fit the feel of the song perfectly, but the English ones make it sound a little bit like a tourist board commercial. Has there ever been an Anglophone song that mentions anything like “foaie verde-a bobului”?
A: I’ve always had a soft spot for this. If anything’s going to make me get up and dance like no one’s watching me, it’s this kind of thing: fun, spirited, full of character and with no ulterior motives whatsoever. Plus it’s a great piece of music.
V: 2009’s Qele Qele opening and no mistake: once you’ve heard Nelly doing that, she seems a bit wasted on the rest of it. The backing dancers are some of the best-looking men on stage this year and consequently wearing far too many clothes, however appropriate and colourful their costumes might be. It’s still not as fun as I expected it to be. Brilliant though, all the same. Has anyone deciphered what’s scribbled on her hand in the final?

34 Albania
B: “Edhe një çast nëse ti më mungon / Unë mbyll dy sytë të ndjej pranë” sounds so much more exotic than “...when you’re not here / I close my eyes / ...and I feel you’re there”, even though it says basically the same thing. Decent enough lyrics for the kind of song, I suppose.
A: I should come clean and admit I’ve never thought the remix works as well as the original arrangement. Not that there’s anything much wrong with it. In some ways I guess it’s more in keeping with the surrealism of the rest of it. Where it definitely improves on the original is in adding an extra chorus after the key change.
V: Was her hair really as big as the screengrabs on Diggiloo make it look? [Watches] Maybe it was zhuzhed up for the final. I didn’t even realise until afterwards that the two guys in black were dwarves; I was probably too distracted by turquoise gimp man*. Or Kejsi’s tremendous vocals. I love the way she screams like the girl she is when she qualifies!

*All three of whom are well tasty unmasked, I might add.

35 Ukraine
B: The lines “The charm that I possess / Will put you to the test” were clearly prophetic. I quite like how sassy the whole thing is.
A: Trashy though it may be, the song has a lot to recommend it musically. The last half a minute is flawless.
V: Imagine the disaster zone a duet between Svetlana and Sakis would be, bereft of backing vocalists. (There’s even an element of the tit dance!) This looks amazing when you can actually see it. However strapped for cash they may be, NTU certainly know how to put on a show.

36 Estonia
B: Given how cold and dark the picture is that these lyrics paint, they radiate warmth and colour, to my ears anyway. They also flow beautifully. The translation on Diggiloo** isn’t half bad either ;-)
A: The mind still boggles that Sven Lõhmus produced something this good, although I suppose you have to wonder how much of the string arrangement came from him and how much from the girls playing it. Either way the whole thing works a treat. So much so that I’d say it was vying for the title of best ever Estonian entry.
V: I adore the way Sandra seems to be exuding the dry ice at the start there in the semi, like she’s just been woken from cryogenic sleep. The sound here is awful once again, and the vocals sound a bit thin, but nothing truly disguises the strength of either. It’s all marvellously ethereal. Celestial, even. The sequined blue dresses are a step too far for me, but still. (Incidentally, Sandra’s “Aitäh! Thank juuuuuuuuuuu!” has been hilariously lampooned ever since.)

**Although some pedantic Estonian who thought they knew better demanded that one of the lines be changed because my poetic interpretation wasn’t close enough to the original. D’oh!

37 The Netherlands
B: I suppose the lyrics are decent enough for this kind of anthem, but half of them produce a frown for one reason or another. The way the last line of the first chorus comes out as “there are too many men that fart” is good for at least one snigger before the fnaar-fnaar value wears off.
A: It might have been just about passable in its original form.
V: To begin with this sounds like it’s going to be massive, but then they start singing the first verse and it doesn’t just go downhill, but plummets head-first off a cliff. It’s rightly or wrongly far too easy to perceive as just a bunch of sad old poofs camping it up. The backing vocalists are great.

38 France
B: Wonderful lyrics, as is almost always the case with the French entries. “Je veux bien tout donner, si seul’ment tu y crois” illustrates the fine line the song treads in testing the televoters’ limits of interest and appreciation.
A: Well it’s tremendous, obviously. A bit aloof. Like someone you have a great deal of respect and admiration for without liking particularly or having much in common with.
V: As mesmerising as this is, it only shows how much more successful France could have been with Patricia Kaas at the helm if they’d chosen a more accessible song. Charmingly, she looks amazed at the reception she gets.

39 Russia
B: It’s never struck me before how thematically similar this is to the similarly-titled Belarusian entry from 2006, albeit with the protagonist having been wrung out the other end of the relationship.
A: You’ve got to love Russia’s home entry being penned by a Georgian and an Estonian and performed by a Ukrainian. Composer Konstantin Meladze is a pretty big name on the Russian music scene, moving in the same circles as Alla Pugachova’s other yes-men, so it’s no surprise he came up with something like this: the Russian music and entertainment industry in microcosm, where the melodrama is slapped on even thicker than the make-up.
V: Can’t sing for shit. But the show – and the fact she really does look like Jennifer Ehle playing Lizzie Bennet in the BBC adaptation of Pride And Prejudice – is amazing, and certainly makes for a memorable home entry.

40 Germany
B: From the very first line this annoys me. Who says “let us [do anything]” rather than “let’s”??
A: Any credibility this has as a composition is synthesised to within an inch of its life. It only surprised me to see it received the support it did to the extent that it came from countries where, as some had predicted, this kind of Dancing With The Stars fodder remains popular.
V: I suppose if we couldn’t have Zoli camping it up in the final at least we got Oscar, although he comes a very poor second. (Lamé trousers?!) The stage looks amazing. No wonder Dita von Teese barely moved in that outfit – the fact she could even breathe in a corset that tight is a miracle.

41 United Kingdom
B: I still struggle to see this as anything other than a metaphor for the UK’s bad run at Eurovision and them saying: “Look what we’ve gone and done, now chuck points at us”. The lyrics are also rather lazy given who they’ve been penned by, but I’m guessing she spat them out in about half an hour if the clips from Your Country Needs You were anything to go by.
A: Whoever it was composed by, and however professionally, it’s still at least twenty years too late. The orchestration is top-notch, needless to say.
V: And it was all going so well until the key change. Still pretty good though, all things considered. The whole teacher-witnessing-pupil’s-coming-of-age bit is overdone: ALW really did not need to be there. I love the way Jade reacts to being nudged by the violinist like she’s been snubbed and wanders off.

42 Spain
B: I quite like the ballsiness to this, evident in lines likes “No importa si quieres o no, porque hoy mando yo”. And I like “Quiero clavarte en mi cruz”, too.
A: I don’t see why Turkey did so much better than this. Neither of them are especially good in my opinion, although I guess the market this is aimed at is slightly less mainstream. That said, there’s more to admire about this composition once you sift out the lazy and predictable bits.
V: They might have shipped in composers from Greece and Sweden, but wherever they got their choreographer from, I hope they kept the receipt. And whether it’s just nerves I don’t know, but Soraya doesn’t sound like she has much depth to her vocals. The performance comes across as one of the least rehearsed of the lot.

And so to the points...

1 point goes to Moldova

2 points go to France

3 points go to Portugal

4 points go to Israel

5 points go to Bosnia and Herzegovina

6 points go to Lithuania

7 points go to Latvia

8 points go to Iceland

10 points go to Estonia

and finally...

12 points go to...

Switzerland!!!

The wooden spoon goes to the Netherlands.

2008

2010-03-11T06:18:00.000-08:00

http://www.diggiloo.net/?2008

More than 10 songs deserve to make the top ten, but it’s a year more than any other where more than 10 songs also deserve to make the bottom ten. And as nice a show as they put on for us, the Serbs are responsible for the worst direction in the contest since I can’t remember when.

01 Montenegro
B: The line “Stojiš na ivici srca” adds a touch of poetry to these lyrics...
A: ...but it’s “Vrijeme za uzalud gubim” that sums up the song as a whole. The one good thing about it is that it shows once again that Montenegro is able to make something out of nothing, suggesting that if they ever do come up with a decent entry they should be able to turn it into something magnificent.
V: He reminds me of that kid from Weeds whose uncle teaches him the finer points of masturbation... which makes him being fondled by the ladies in leather all the more unconvincing. Good vocals from everyone though.

02 Israel
B: I’m not sure whether these lyrics just don’t translate or whether they’re simply badly translated, but either way I get the sense of something very meaningful being said here, whatever it might be. They’re deceptive in any case: as words they lack beauty, but somewhere between the page and Boaz Mauda’s interpretation of them they transform into something heartfelt and romantic.
A: Those first 30 seconds are transfixing. There are layers of subtlety to the arrangement here that I missed completely the first time around.
V: What a statue of a man for such a voice to come from. Bit ropey on the timing. The male backing vocalists and No Name jumping about work better than you’d expect them to. I can forgive them the cheesy Israeli final scene because of the strength of the rest of the performance.

03 Estonia
B: Pass.
A: Well, it’s not trying to be anything more than it actually is, if that constitutes a defence. Far outstays what little welcome it enjoyed though.
V: Peeter Oja’s croaky voice suits the performance. Otherwise appalling in every repect apart from that it’s not taking itself in the slightest bit seriously.

04 Moldova
B: I love these lyrics. They have a well-meaning clumsiness about them in places, but then surprise you with lines like “All I need / Is to find... / ...the words I’ve never said / The words I need to touch your world / And your life, to breathe your soul”.
A: The 5.1 Dolby digital surround sound production is fantastic, bringing out every little nuance of the composition. I could listen to it on an endless loop and never get tired of it.
V: Love the smile when she almost falls off the sofa during the first verse. The ad libs are authentic but seem only to be there to prop up a very exposed performance and some equally exposed staging. The stage itself looks glorious.

05 San Marino
B: Lord Of The Rings leftover Nicola Della Valle clearly had his high school creative writing lessons in mind when penning the opening line here: “Mai avrei pensato a te come mia complice” makes you wonder immediately where the rest of it is heading.
A: Every time I listen to this I find myself urging it on to greater things, but it never delivers. It has all the elements to be the kind of powerhouse pop Muse have made a name for themselves with, but instead it chooses – for no obvious reason – to rein itself in. Having said that, it’s another strong and unlikely debut entry.
V: Another great looking stage; pity more isn’t made of the lighting. The vocals are more successful as the centrepiece here than they are with Moldova.

06 Belgium
B: Seems about right that something this twee should be a family affair. The imaginary language is irritating.
A: Scratch that: the whole thing’s irritating. The underlying problem is that I don’t think it has a clear idea of what it wants to be.
V: They do their best to make something of it, I’ll give them that, although why it’s all so breathless by the two minute mark I don’t understand. Looks way better than it ought to. Sequin or whatever her name is needs to take fewer happy pills when she gets up in the morning.

07 Azerbaijan
B: Behind all the heaven and hell trappings this is so gay.
A: Talk about unlikely debuts. As a piece of music this isn’t any more competent than the Montenegrin entry, but it diverts your attention from its shortcomings more successfully. The thing that does set it apart from Zauvijek Volim Te however is its ambition. Overreaching though it may have been.
V: “Makes me want to scream”, to quote Messrs Jackson. I think it’s the tightness of Elnur’s pants that’s making him go all falsetto. I quite like his hairstyle. The direction is terrible.

08 Slovenia
B: If you watched the promo video for this knowing only that the first part of the first line meant “On the floor by myself” you’d have to wonder what was about to unfold. The lyrics are quite ballsy actually, as reflected in the title, which is a very useful one: To Hell With It covers a multitude of sins, especially if you realise your routine’s not working but you’re contractually obliged to go ahead with it.
A: Slovenia by numbers, albeit at the classier end of the scale. Plenty of decent hooks in the arrangement (both vocal and musical) but it’s still a glass half-empty.
V: You just know they’ve fucked it up within the first five seconds. Another example of singing which is perfectly in tune but completely off key.

09 Norway
B: Lyrics that work better performed than on paper. I prefer to think that the opening line of the second verse is “Love can go away forever if you bullshit”.
A: For me it’s still the way the vocals are delivered that makes this for me. Well, apart from everything else.
V: It just sounds good, doesn’t it. Better than that, it sounds like quality, especially given the run of songs before it. The simple and attractive performance works a charm, and the vocals are fantastic from all involved.

10 Poland
B: Moments of this seem oddly un-nativespeakery until you realise that Ms Gee’s real name is Tamara Diane Gołębiowska and perhaps English isn’t her first language after all.
A: I must admit I’ve always liked this more than I felt was perhaps right to. It’s very contrived, but then so is any piece of music by its very nature, so you can’t really criticise it for that. I suppose it’s just not very interesting. The piano and strings are enough for me though.
V: As odd as she looks and occasionally sounds, she does seem to be giving it her all, and even surprised at times that she’s pulling it off. I like that.

11 Ireland
B: A lot of what this has to say should be clever in a very self-deprecating kind of way. I can’t shake the feeling though that – despite the opening lines – it’s all one big, very cheap shot at everyone in the contest except Ireland along the lines of “look what you’ve reduced us to”. And that, coming from a country with its track record in recent years, is a bit rich.
A: It’s a pity the Irish can only give us something this upbeat when it’s pastiche. That said, I’m no great fan of the composition, which is workmanlike at best. That, presumably, being the point.
V: You can actually hear that whoever’s got his microphone shoved up Dustin’s arse is singing in a box. Awful direction again – you’d be forgiven for failing to realise that the turkey on the trolley is anything other than a prop. The “did we win?” bit at the end is cute but immediately tarnished by what comes next. I would’ve just given the song to Kitty B and let it be fat disco.

12 Andorra
B: Decent lyrics all told. Nothing spectacular, but at least they’re correct.
A: More successful at what it’s trying to do than Sweden if you ask me. Which isn’t saying much, admittedly. It lacks the key change it needs to be pure schlager, but credit where it’s due, they don’t go too far wrong.
V: Gisela makes the word ‘waited’ sound like it rhymes with ‘ferret’. The lower key the live version is performed in sounds terrible, but by the end that’s the least of their worries.

13 Bosnia and Herzegovina
B: I don’t know who Tim Clancy is but he wrote a decent set of English lyrics to this. Still wish they’d used them for the chorus, if for no other reason than “I’m gonna try to wake you up but you’re acting like you already are” seems to fit better than “Pokušaću da te probudim a ti se pravi budna”, particularly with the Bosnian version almost coming across as pro-creation theory. Still a work of genius, either way.
A: I love the way the acoustic and electric guitars are, for the most part, deliberately separated in the mix. But then I love everything about this – one of the boldest, most unorthodox, complex and complete works of art the contest has ever seen.
V: Seriously, it’s like the director’s working blind. (Did they ditch him for the final or was he just a quick learner?) The performance is suitably bonkers. I’m glad they made more of the lighting on Saturday night.

14 Armenia
B: The lines “Yes im hay hoghits / Eka berem / Hove sareri / Luyse arevi” and the music that accompany them make for an engrossing opening. Pity it all descends into utter banality.
A: Unlike the Israeli entry, this just falls away completely after an equally arresting opening. There is nothing intrinsically wrong with it (apart from it feeling tired after about a minute and a half), and elements of the arrangement and composition are inspired. All things being equal it was unlucky not to have emulated My Number One’s victory, since it is pretty much the same thing, just in a slightly rejigged format. Perhaps that’s why it sticks in my craw.
V: Although I can see the appeal, this still strikes me as being very lazy. Sirusho looks like a two-bit tart and seems to know it. The colours and effects are fantastic, with pyrotechnics that actually do what they should.

15 The Netherlands
B: Clever lyrics in the way lines like “In my dreams I’ll fly so high I can reach the stars / I sit on top of a mountain / And scream when nobody hears me” capture the emotional all-over-the-placeness of this kind of situation.
A: I hadn’t realised Tjeerd van Zanen was one of the composers of this. You wouldn’t know. The pop sensibilities are all there, yes, but as an alloy I’m not sure it’s any more than the sum of its parts. At least they slot together neatly enough.
V: Somebody turn the lights on! Hind could pass herself off as an aborigine. (Those two points are not related.) Great performance, although as per 2007 I would have dropped the dancing tracksuits.

16 Finland
B: The chorus could be the start of a joke about New Zealanders (“Missä miehit ratsastaa / Siellä lampaat ei voi laiduntaa”). Huh! Hah!
A: Almost as theatrical as Lordi. Equally as camp in its way, even as a piece of music. The addition of the Finnish sees it come across as the apotheosis of the country’s hard rock trilogy. There’s really nowhere left for them to go now along these lines.
V: They would have qualified on those first four bars alone, wouldn’t they? Nevertheless, you can tell from the muted welcome it receives in the final that once there it won’t be going very far. One reason to be thankful for this kind of music in Eurovision though is that it allows us to ogle semi-naked men who aren’t covered in glitter or otherwise upstaging the lady folk for the amount of eyeshadow they’re wearing. Even if what we do get is the peculiarly hairless, alabaster form typical of so many Finnish men.

17 Romania
B: The Italian works very well with the Romanian in a song like this.
A: Three minutes of music that do exactly what’s required of them. Naturally I’m bound to like the piano and strings and frown upon the use of an electric guitar.
V: I want to have Vlad Miriţa’s babies, preferably on tap. Nico’s arrival is the green light for the shouting match that ensues. What is she wearing? The slinky silver number in the final’s an improvement, but she still looks like his mum.

18 Russia
B: Dima Bilan’s alleged decent into debilitating drug addiction lends an amusing new dimension to lines like “I’m falling off the sky”. The whole thing could be a metaphor for being high. Confiscate the narcotics though and you still get a textbook anthem.
A: You can tell this comes from an American hip-hop stable because it’s so minimalist. I’m pleased to say its minimalism is effective – which is so often not the case with this kind of music. A bit like Romania, it does what it says on the tin, so there’s not much point in complaining about it. Or room to do so.
V: He’s clearly convinced of his own magnificence. He looks like an Indian amputee when the spotlight comes on in the final. The performance is pleasingly understated by Russian standards until the ineffectual ice skating begins, after which it unravels at a rate of knots.

19 Greece
B: “Can you feel it – that I’m not a little girl?” Depends where you put your hands, I suppose. There’s something very teenage-girl-desperate-to-have-her-cherry-popped about this song.
A: Just as authentic as Believe, but not in a way that makes that a good thing. Whatever I said about Sarbel last time you could say about this, too.
V: I’m not sure why, but I just don’t like this at all. Astroturf hasn’t looked that tacky since it covered the Brady Bunch lawn.

20 Iceland
B: When you put together the performers, composer, lyricists and backing vocalists here you get a team representing virtually every Icelandic entry over the last twenty years. Seems appropriate that they’re all in on an anthem called This Is My Life.
A: The lyrics seem to be saying: you want it to be better, but this is pretty much as good as it gets, so like it for what it is. And I do. Still could be better though.
V: This makes Sweden redundant on every level. Flawless vocals from our blond(e) duo.

21 Sweden
B: The lazy meaningless of these lyrics is summed up perfectly by the bridge: “Heroes can live on their own / But heroes never die alone” is not only unimaginative, but also repetitive, and while purporting to say something actually says nothing at all.
A: Tinny, very tinny.
V: Do you think anyone realises she’s not that colour naturally? Nothing else about her is normal. Her voice is strong, but not very pretty. How I wish this had never made the final.

22 Turkey
B: I love the lines “Beni büyütün, ağlatmayın / Sevginiz nerde, övündüğünüz” and “Direniyor, faili tutkunun / Kızmıș ve küçülmüș”, although I haven’t got a clue what the second one means.
A: Coming straight after Sweden only highlights further how progressive this is. Brilliant.
V: Perhaps it’s an echo, but the music almost sounds live. The lighting and colours here would make this stand out a mile from everything else even if the song itself didn’t.

23 Ukraine
B: Clever stuff going on here. I like the knowing and completely shameless nods in lines like “No one knows who I am / But I don’t give a damn” and “I am a brand new star that you’ve never known”. There’s an appealing ‘screw you’ quality to “There is one thing I bet / You’re about to regret / I’m no longer your lover” and “Baby, don’t call me baby”.
A: Hero’s shortcomings are ruthlessly exposed when it’s overshadowed like this. Shady Lady mightn’t be quite up there with Deli in terms of artistry, but boy does it knock Ms Perrelli into a cocked hat. Barely puts a foot wrong.
V: It’s clear from this that Philip Kirkorov’s talents for songwriting (or pilfering) and staging will see him winning the contest in the not too distant future. I mean, it has absolutely everything it needs and deserves except good direction, yet again.

24 Lithuania
B: I suppose it’s romantic, when you can figure out what he’s going on about.
A: Forgotten number from a 1980s musical. And forgotten for a very good reason.
V: Piercing eyes.

25 Albania
B: I’ll have to remember the lines “Bora e zerit tënd mbi zemrën time ra / Mbuloi strehën e fundit të dashurisë” next time I find myself trapped in a loveless relationship. Ironically, this is the warmest and most beautiful Albanian has sounded in any of the country’s entries.
A: From the shorn, often fragile vocals to the by turns delicate and rich composition, this is an absolute triumph.
V: I would have sprayed that Serbian audience with bullets had Olta not sung them into submission. Fucking brilliant, and such maturity.

26 Switzerland
B: I really wish I’d never taken a proper listen to these lyrics, because it made me realise how quintessentially Swiss the whole thing is in being both (1) a run-of-the-mill anthem and (2) a soppy ballad tinged with childhood nostalgia.
A: This works a lot better as one song than two songs ought to, testament to the strength of the composition underpinning it all. It knows what to highlight, when and how, and as a result produces the most together-sounding piece of music the Swiss have entered for a very long time.
V: This verges on great for every one of its three minutes but still somehow manages to fall flat. Paolo is as cute as I hoped he would be.

27 Czech Republic
B: Ms Kerndlová might insist that with her the guys can kiss goodbye to Madame Palm and her five sisters, but I’m sure there’ll still be plenty going solo while she’s wearing skirts that short.
A: A song that has ‘unmitigated disaster’ writ large all over it. The fact that the bridge into the chorus is better (and catchier) than the chorus itself says it all.
V: She means well.

28 Belarus
B: “I’m gonna miss you, maybe” is quite good.
A: There’s a strange murkiness to the music here, and straight after the Czech entry it also commits the cardinal sin of having a bridge which is more interesting and accomplished than the chorus it builds up to. Well before the two minute mark the song is already treading water.
V: His fringe quivers! Awful backing vocals, which pick one note and stick to it.

29 Latvia
B: Even if this was a Junior Eurovision entry I’d baulk at how puerile it was.
A: It took four people to compose this?
V: As if the Latvian accents aren’t bad enough we also have to put up with Robert Meloni’s :(

30 Croatia
B: Romance in the truest sense of the world. Lovely.
A: This creates more atmosphere and exhibits more imagination and finesse in its first 30 seconds than the last three songs did in 9 minutes. And sustains it for the better part of two-and-a-half, until it reaches its slapstick finale.
V: Bemusing performance that doesn’t work however hard it tries, but it sounds good. The solitary dancing lady is as ineffectual here as she was for San Marino.

31 Bulgaria
B: Well the lyrics aren’t really the point, are they.
A: Which shifts all of the focus onto the music. This is, partly, a good thing, since it has relentless drive and energy when it’s not changing gears. It’s trying to be something Eurovision never was at the time, but also never will be, so as experiments go it is largely triumphant but also rather pointless.
V: This should work, too, but doesn’t. Love Metal Mickey thanking Europe at the end.

32 Denmark
B: “If your life is like a sad song maybe / You should try and celebrate it” – or in other words: get over yourselves :)
A: Very much a weeknight song. The Danes seem forever trapped in Monday to Friday where Eurovision is concerned of late – not that you can blame them, given that their only recent weekend outing was drag by name and drag by nature, and that they generally do unobtrusive and cosy very well, as here.
V: A bit affected maybe, but still effective, and it couldn’t be anyone other than Denmark. Wouldn’t say no to either or both of the hirsute guitarists. Are they brothers?

33 Georgia
B: “Are you still so blind to ask me why?” is amusing, overweening and tasteless. The claim that “the face of war is never true” is well illustrated by the grey areas surrounding Russia’s recent incursion into Georgia.
A: Bin the lead vocals and this would be perfectly palatable. Even the droopy chorus. The backing vocals are great.
V: Yes, all very insistent, isn’t it, and lacks any kind of subtlety. Kudos to them for the unexpected transformation, which is – conversely – pulled off very neatly and without fuss. Do you think Diana Gurstkaya (sic) appreciates the fact that her teeth are so white and shiny?

34 Hungary
B: Some nice imagery here but it’s still fairly faceless as ballads go.
A: There’s just no getting over how bland and old-fashioned this is. The way it’s composed is awkwardly disjointed in places.
V: Charming. Boring, but charming. The stage looks pretty. Is she wearing a hairy clam?

35 Malta
B: Oh God, she’s a Camilleri. Everything makes sense now.
A: Not the pile of poo it appears to be upon first inspection, but it still doesn’t amount to much.
V: Ruslana’s afterparty. Not the car crash television I remember it being though.

36 Cyprus
B: “Bam, vre manges, oli sas tin pathate” might be an exaggeration – with the exception of the thumb-spraining text-mad Greek diaspora in the UK and Bulgaria – but when you actually look at the lyrics, the charm and sassiness that got the song to Eurovision in the first is revealed. It’s gone up in my estimations at least.
A: ...and yet a quick glance at the scoreboard for the second semi highlights the problem with it: having worked itself into a niche, it has no way of extending its appeal beyond Greekish circles. However accomplished it may be as a piece of music. Plus it’s a bit annoying.
V: They’re not doing too well on the names this semi – the Serbs have her down as Kadi Evdokia. This is rather impressive, but I have no idea what planet we’re on. Or what decade it is there.

37 FYR Macedonia
B: The rap bits are slightly too Moldova 06 for my liking, but the chorus is great. And “the stars above glow like they’re making love” is a brilliant line.
A: Much more effective in urban terms than Ninanajna, which makes the fact that it reached the final and this didn’t even more unjust. Needless to say the wonderful orchestral arrangement gets the thumbs up from me, but so do the vocals, which suit it nicely.
V: Certainly gets a gold star in its exercise book for being much improved. It sounds great and the stage looks fantastic.

38 Portugal
B: All a bit melodramatic, frankly.
A: If any song was going to get the Portuguese back into the final, this was always going to be it. The big-and-brashness of it overshadows some of the more moderate and attractive elements but is also the point. Still melodramatic though.
V: Beautiful vocals from one and all. Why was her hair purple?

39 United Kingdom
B: I wonder whether poor Andy was still ‘struggling to keep his feet on the ground’ when he saw the UK once again languishing at the bottom of the scoreboard.
A: Perfect headphones song – there’s lots happening you might not otherwise pick up. This is a very effective slice of whatever era it’s emulating, but while I have great affection for it, you can’t ignore how unsuited it is to the televoting era.
V: Best British performance in a decade, hands down. I’d be tempted to shag both those backing vocalists.

40 Germany
B: Nice rhythm to the lyrics in the verses. They’re quite nice overall actually.
A: Unlike Even If, this is not only unsuited to the televoting era but to any competition in which you only have three minutes to impress. It would likely do better with juries, since it is more than competent, but only slightly, since it’s still not all that engaging. Well-produced song that works in its own right, but not for Eurovision.
V: Funny how I was worried about them sounding odd individually when here it’s their vocals together that don’t work. It’s the blonde’s fault, mostly. They should have disappeared in that puff of smoke at the end for the full effect.

41 France
B: Even with the biography of the song provided by Diggiloo, does anyone really know what it’s about? It has to be one of the most arcane things to ever hit the Eurovision stage. I like the line “toi et moi, c’est comme tu sais”, which covers all sorts of bases.
A: Rather like Pokušaj, you don’t necessarily have to understand this to enjoy it, or recognise that there’s something to it. However many times I listen to it I doubt I’ll ever get it, but at least I’ll enjoy myself in the process of failing to.
V: Gosh, the sound mix here is appalling, and the direction is even worse. But then the performance is so weird it doesn’t make much difference. Full marks to the backing vocalists though for a very difficult job well done.

42 Spain
B: I love the fact they claim it took 11 people to write this, and you’ve got to tip your hat to any song that starts with a call to do anything doggy style!
A: Decent joke ruined in the telling, which should always have been kept short and to the point. There’s little sense in deconstructing it musically.
V: Probably the most successful of the year’s novelty entries. It raises a smile or two. Well, three to be precise.

43 Serbia
B: This is basically just Lejla with the roles reversed, isn’t it?
A: Oddly, this to me has more in common with Molitva than either of ZJ’s other works, and that’s perhaps why it comes off worse in my estimations. It’s a classy offering and no doubt, but seems less inspired and less inspirational than either Lane Moje or Lejla. Makes for a fitting final panel to the triptych though.
V: Can she not see the dead people on the stage in front of her? The moon appears to be a laser disc. Lovely home entry, but they were lucky to make 6th.

And so to the points...

1 point goes to France

2 points go to FYR Macedonia

3 points go to the United Kingdom

4 points go to Moldova

5 points go to Norway

6 points go to Ukraine

7 points go to Israel

8 points go to Albania

10 points go to Bosnia and Herzegovina

and finally...

12 points go to...

Turkey!!!

The wooden spoon goes to the Czech Republic, although in such a bumper year an honorary set of three matching spoons is also awarded to the Baltic States – Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania – for their equally awful efforts.

2007

2010-03-11T03:14:00.000-08:00

http://www.diggiloo.net/?2007

Rather a good year, all told. With a bit of distance the production shines.

01 Bulgaria
B: The image of a “ludo mlado, konche yazdi” is both sexy and pathetic. To be honest, I hadn’t realised this song actually had proper words: it never struck me that it should have.
A: Pretty much the entire first minute of the song is about creating atmosphere and watching it build. It’s funny listening to it now how much the drums are in the background in places, when they’re the central element of the performance. Great piece of music, in any case.
V: What a sparkly little chainmail pixie Elitsa is. Off-key for much of the song, but it doesn’t really matter even if you do notice it. The bit where they throw away the drum sticks is great, and the performance as a whole works well. Stage looks great from the off. [Addendum: I’d never noticed the little pony-leg-kick motion Elitsa does! She’s very much on song in the final.]

02 Israel
B: I mustn’t have bothered checking out the lyrics to any of these non-English songs at the time – if I had I might have had more time for this number, whose lyrics are clever and complex in turn. Fly in the face of the no-politics-in-Eurovision policy, obviously, but are all the better for it because they actually mean something. There’s great rhythm to some of the English lyrics that really personifies them, like “With demonic, technologic willingness to harm” and “Don’t wanna go kaput kaboom”, but the real highlights are in the Hebrew lyrics: lines like “Hine milkhama, hine hanshama”, “Klum, klum, ze ma shekulam osim” and “Vekulam shotim lekhayim vetov’im ze letzad ze”. At long last an Israeli anthem with a pertinent message, not just some soporific blancmange.
A: Loads of personality, with a composition that is surprisingly deft in places. There can be no argument that the best bit is the ‘nevertheless’ moment. However, because it eats up words at a rate of knots and shifts in style so frequently, it seems to go on for much longer than three minutes.
V: They were right: the direction really is all over the place. I fail to see how staging or shooting it any differently though would have brought a different result – there’s more drag here than in Drama Queen.

03 Cyprus
B: Do you think Poseidon the lyricist deliberately chose French words that would fool me into thinking they were Greek? I maintain they could scan as either. I think it’s lines like “Routine et paresse nous menacent” that confuse me. In any case, the situation they describe resonates.
A: This feels like it should come across a lot more convincingly than it actually does. The electronic/synth production just sounds dated, and the faux techno middle eight is at least 15 years too late.
V: Scary and unattractive. The schizophrenic kaleidoscope effect is perfect.

04 Belarus
B: These lyrics work well enough when they’re sung, but lines like “You can serve me something really hot” just look daft on the page. Not Karen Caravan’s finest moment as a lyricist.
A: Whether it intends to or not, this tells you immediately that it’s trying to be a James Bond theme, or at least mimic the scale of one. It impresses me, but only conditionally, since parts of it still sound sluggish and lazy to my ears. I wonder how many more CIS countries Philip Kirkorov will magic rabbits out of hats for at the eleventh hour.
V: Another unattractive set of vocals here, but the stage show is sufficiently distracting for it not to matter all that much. The stage show is, in fact, one of the best we’ve ever seen.

05 Iceland
B: Touches of greatness to these lyrics – in the opening line, for example, and in the image of a ‘love let loose and painted black’ – but the overall impression is that Peter Fenner was making it all up as he went along, thinking: “Oh, that sounds good, that’ll do.”
A: I’d forgotten what a boisterous opening run this semi had. This has ‘Made in Iceland’ stamped all over it, which is probably why I love it: so much of their music seems to capture a sense of the physicality of the country itself. And I’ll always respect a song which brings together elements of pop and rock this successfully, especially when backed by such a fantastic orchestral arrangement.
V: The stage looks amazing once again. Great performance from Eiríkur. Someone needed to remind the drummer not to get ideas above his station.

06 Georgia
B: Full marks for the sense of surrealist grandeur they do their best to achieve.
A: An entire landscape of music echoes between your ears with this song. I doubt we’ll see another debut as adventurous and impressive as this again in the contest. It’s expressive, it’s vibrant and it’s so bold.
V: A laudable effort is made here to capture the ambience of the lyrics and music. I still find the whole thing captivating.

07 Montenegro
B: Is Carol Brady lookalike Mr Faddy pining for a battered wife? What does “Poljubiću tvoje crno oko” mean? Does she have a black eye? The blahness of the lyrics makes it easy to believe the song’s from the same lyricist as Ciao Amore, but...
A: ...it’s hard to believe it’s from the same composer as Zauvijek Moja. (Then again, the second and last entry from the unhappily wed Serbia and Montenegro was clearly the exception to the rule for both him and the guy who wrote the lyrics.) Following the Georgian entry, it proves the whole ying-yang thing: a lot more competent than anyone gives it credit for, it nevertheless lacks any sense of inventiveness or ambition.
V: The green and brown work nicely together. Note-perfect performance from Stevan; his backing vocalists ought to have had the rough edges hewn off them.

08 Switzerland
B: If I was DJ Bobo’s forever I’d probably feel it was “Like a nightmare, never ending” as well. The rest of the lyrics drag the points tally well into the minuses, but the unexpected use of ‘hence’ brings them back to an even zero.
A: Does what it says on the tin (i.e. not much).
V: For a song that feels like it was composed with every frame of its mini feature film video clip worked out in advance, they fuck up royally on the visuals. God love the Eurovision rules! The sound mix is surprisingly uneven here, leaving the weak vocals very exposed. Yay!

09 Moldova
B: I bet if you translated these lyrics directly into Romanian they’d make perfect sense. Shall we all pitch in and send lyricist Elena Buga a copy of New Headway Pre-Intermediate?
A: We’re well past the 30-second mark and still nothing’s happened: it’s nice to see a country other than Turkey giving us a ridiculously long introduction. They largely make up for it in the remaining two and a half minutes, although it does lead to that rushed ending, which has always bothered me. The piano (keyboards?) in the second verse is great, and the strings are tremendous all the way through. But then they always are.
V: Wardrobe disaster of the highest magnitude. Natalia’s vocals are amazing once she gets the better of her nerves. [Addendum: great, bold colour scheme and strong note – literally – to finish on in the final.]

10 The Netherlands
B: “Are we making the same mistake?” Yes. “Have we learned from the past?” No.
A: Dutch pop not exactly at its best, but it doesn’t do much wrong either. It just doesn’t have the wow factor it needs to elevate it above the merely adequate, however rich Edsilia’s vocals are. Which basically makes it a horrible, wasted opportunity.
V: Rather like Glennis Grace, Edsilia here puts in a flawless vocal performance, but it doesn’t really feel like she’s in the moment. Such a pity.

11 Albania
B: “But the journey’s long, the going’s slow / ... / A million miles later / I crave a love that’s greater / Take me home again” – affecting lyrics that meant so much more when Frederik Ndoci told you what he and his country have been through in his lifetime.
A: Beautiful, layered production. There is something truly heart-rending about both the music and the vocals.
V: Those backing vocalists – the two right behind Frederik in the close-ups – were my ultimate three-in-a-bed fantasy in Helsinki. Seeing them would cure any man of his erectile dysfunction. I’m sure I’m repeating myself here, but Mrs Ndoci bears a striking resemblance to 1960s Doctor Who companion and history teacher Barbara Wright.

12 Denmark
B: If they were going for lyrics here that couldn’t be sung by anyone other than a drag queen, they got them exactly right.
A: Ditto re: the music. It’s dripping in sequins.
V: Jesus wept, do the robot! The idea was clearly for the backing vocalists and dancers not to upstage DQ, but they look like they’ve just been dragged on stage while having a couple of drinks after work. Remarkably steady vocals given how wonky they were all week.

13 Croatia
B: “Ti si k’o na ranu sol” would make a fabulous, cutting putdown in the right situation. I like these lyrics rather a lot.
A: I don’t why, but this just works for me, and it still seems quintessentially Croatian. It’s better than a handful of entries from the country that have made it to the final, so it’s a shame it was the first one not to get through. Great structure, coming full circle like it does. (Incidentally, the acoustic version on the promo CD is fab.)
V: There are several amazing things about Carrie Bradshaw clone Ms Gluhak: the length of her legs; the fuffiness of her hair; and the fact that never once live does she manage to sing quite in the right key.

14 Poland
B: I can’t find anything to say about this at all.
A: I’ve never understood the transformation this undergoes in the chorus: the verses actually have a drive and energy about them that suit a song called Time To Party, and then it goes all salad days on us. Then again, theirs is not a party I’d probably ever receive – and certainly never accept – an invitation to. Not my scene.
V: She really does look remarkably like a chihuahua, doesn’t she. Maybe it’s the diamante collar. The fizzing cage is superfluous, although it and the chains underscore the tone effectively, which is both completely wrong and completely right at the same time. This drags almost as much as Push The Button.

15 Serbia
B: Lovely rhythm to the lyrics. I love the fact that žar means ‘ardour’. You occasionally come across words in these languages and think: that’s perfect.
A: Piano and strings with an acoustic track: works for me. I still find it all a bit overblown and self-important though.
V: So red it feels like someone should be developing photos. I wonder whether this would have done as well with some leggy Serbian babe singing it, or whether Marija’s geeky pug dog features were part of the appeal. The vocals are glorious; the performance is bemusing. [Addendum: sinister even.]

16 Czech Republic
B: Social conscience from the Czechs on their debut. You’ve got to love it if for no other reason than the diacritics it brings to the contest.
A: In hindsight, being drawn straight after Serbia was probably the death knell of this song. Something this uncompromising and unadulterated was never likely to set the scoreboard alight, but you can just see the middle-aged women sitting there tutting at these burly men shouting and making a racket after the nice lesbian with the black hair and her lady mayoress friends.
V: Don’t make much allowance for the fact that they’re not on some festival stage, do they. I love the fact that the guy jumping up and down waving the flag at the end is as big a poof as the rest of the OGAE crowd.

17 Portugal
B: I suppose if you were caught up in the moment you might think that second verse wasn’t total bollocks. “Dança esta canção porque tem tudo de ti” doesn’t convince me, I’m afraid.
A: To this day I fail to see the appeal that took this to within a hair’s breadth of making the final. It’s sunny and completely unpretentious, but there’s nothing interesting about it whatsoever.
V: They were very clever to fiddle with (and soften) the vocals here. You wouldn’t believe from this performance that Sabrina is as good a singer as she showed herself to be in the press conferences. It’s competent, but very kitsch.

18 FYR Macedonia
B: “Mojot svet se osum noti / Edna duša balkanska” does make a great line, especially given the rhythm of it and the music it’s set to. The verses here have a sense of poetry about them, but the la-la-ness of the chorus is only disguised by the Macedonian, and once we hit the English part the illusion is shattered completely.
A: So many of the elements introduced in the opening bars of the song seem to be working against each other, and yet come together seamlessly. Classy production, and I like the fact that it wears its Macedonianness on its sleeve.
V: Legs ahoy! Do the FYRoM delegation like their glances to camera in the opening pan or what. And their stools. Why they eschewed the lovely turquoise colour scheme the director originally gave them I don’t know: what they went with seems unnecessarily and inappropriately dark to me. [Addendum: are all of the men in Macedonia either boyish like the lad doing the dancing here or crusty like Vlado Janevski? Is there nothing in between?]

19 Norway
B: The only clever thing about these lyrics is the way the lines “Let’s feel the beat, feel the heat, you and me” and “Just move your feet to the beat and dance with me” work so well set to the music with all that happy clapping going on.
A: Guri sings this like she’s in an elocution lesson. Paint-by-numbers Nordic trash.
V: Great lead vocals, and the three apparently now mandatory blonde backing vocalists are as solid as ever. But this has so little energy for such an upbeat song.

20 Malta
B: The metaphors here soon reach saturation point but they’re pretty clever for the most part. I like the pairing of “You colour me blue, turn my passion to red / It’s feelin’ like I’ve become indigo”. Hard to find any words that even vaguely sound like, rhyme or fit with ‘vertigo’, so they get the thumbs up for that alone.
A: I like the sweeping north African feel of this*. Another soundtrack song.
V: *Which makes me wonder why they went all oriental with it. Doesn’t smack of the east to me at all. Who knew that the beefcake on the violin is actually a famous, er, violinist? Apparently he’s a doctor, too. The things you learn when you do a bit of research. The Maltese would have been right to feel cheated by the director here: he manages to miss large swathes of choreography. They would also have been right to feel short-changed by Ms Lewis, who holds herself back to such an extent that she mucks up all of the big notes in the chorus.

21 Andorra
B: Catalan looks quite odd at times, doesn’t it, when you get lines like “Podem unir-nos, fer-ho bé”. This has some fairly stark truths for what is essentially a naïve schoolboy essay.
A: Offsetting the potentially eye-rolling message of the lyrics with some West Coast grunge was always going to make it more palatable. The pace is relentless.
V: How bizarre that Andorra of all countries gets the most audible support from the audience in the semi-final! Looks and sounds great, even if the adorable N!ki is flat as a tack most of the time. The only entry I would dearly love to have seen in the final just because.

22 Hungary
B: The last two lines are the best of the whole song. (As an aside, it’s interesting to note that Imre, the given name of the lyricist here, is also a common man’s name in Estonia, pointing to the ancient Finno-Ugric links between the languages.) (Having said that, Ines is as popular a woman’s name in Portugal as it is in Estonia, so maybe it’s all hit and miss.)
A: Sublime.
V: Best stage and lighting of the entire contest. Great staging, too. Someone was clearly listening when I said she needed to sit on the suitcase :) [Addendum: a lot shakier in the final.]

23 Estonia
B: There is a certain passion and fire to these lyrics, which suggests they got something right, and I like the inevitability of it all.
A: Good synths here. The promise of the opening is never kept, merely reiterated, rendering 90% of the song disappointing. Add to this the fact that Gerli Padar really doesn’t have an attractive voice and the result is a foregone conclusion.
V: The lighting here isn’t just great – it’s spectacular. Yellow and white make for a nice change. The screengrab of Gerli on Diggiloo makes it look like she’s plummeting to her death from the top of a tall building, perhaps having given a rooftop concert, still grasping her microphone, professional to the last. Which is fitting, since this performance is as worthy of the term as Estonia has ever gotten at Eurovision. In fact everyone in those screengrabs looks like they’re either trying not to or are in the process of falling off – or indeed pushing someone else off – a tall building.

24 Belgium
B: Suitably uplifting.
A: Fun, funky, engaging – lots of positive things really.
V: Apart from the fact that it’s a retro number in a Eurovision era when no one’s going for it, the undoing of this performance is that the vocals are at their weakest where they’re most important.

25 Slovenia
B: I like the line “Ljubim nekaj, česar več ni”.
A: I think we can safely say I’m not a fan of ethno pop-opera. Fulfils its remit though.
V: Diva overload, which is a bit incongruous given she looks like she just fell out of bed and got entangled in her sewing kit. I’d love it if she’d forgotten to shave her armpits. Striking stage design, like some icy cavern at the end of a dark underground tunnel. Have we worked out yet what the glowing hand thing is about?

26 Turkey
B: The sexual charge of these lyrics is undeniable, albeit pretty much shorted out by the bridge, whose combination of ‘lovey-dovey’ and ‘candy’ jars completely.
A: The musical marriage of Turkish elements and contemporary production is, however, a marked success. Meandering to a degree, but it sounds good.
V: For the second year in a row the Turks employ a troupe of foreign dancers and more than get their money’s worth. Kenan is, needless to say, adorable. [Addendum: is it just me or are the fireworks at the start mistimed? Shouldn’t they spurt at the same moment the girls drop the cloth to reveal Kenan i.e. so that he seems to appear out of nowhere?]

27 Austria
B: This is fairly all-encompassing as anthems go, but it has some very gay elements. (Do straight men ‘strut’?) I like the line “If you don’t understand it, don’t take it for granted”.
A: As with various other Austrian entries through the ages, this has all the potential in the world and no one with the degree of talent or interest needed to make enough of it. I’m glad it has an edge to it, given it was the Life Ball anthem, but it still doesn’t say a lot musically.
V: Dies the death it was always going to come the middle eight.

28 Latvia
B: They don’t half blow their own trumpets, do they? “Questa notte sarà l’immensità” indeed. “Fra le tante stelle, tu mi fai veder la luna” is lovely in a set of lyrics that is otherwise hard to engage with.
A: Italian, by and large, is not a difficult language to pronounce, so I sympathise with the handful of Italians who have had to hear this song: now they know how native speakers of English have felt at Eurovision for so many years. Not that this is the most irritating aspect of the song, of course: it’s huge, and rousing, and calculated to an infinite number of decimal places. It makes my skin crawl.
V: Roberto Meloni is such a twat. Zigfrīds Muktupāvels is a good name for the least attractive member of Bonaparte.lv – he looks like a Victorian serial killer. Thankfully he’s offset by the boyish charms of Andris Ērglis.

29 Bosnia and Herzegovina
B: “Neka ide bol na moju dušu što za tobom umirem”... Tortured in a way that only Bosnia can and indeed does (frequently) do at Eurovision. It forms a neat counterpart to their 2006 entry; Marija could well be the embodiment of Lejla herself, answering Hari’s call. I mean, that was always her being snatched away from him, wasn’t it? It wasn’t like she actually wanted to marry the other guy.
A: Beautiful. Lush. Powerful. The list goes on.
V: Given that the aquamarine colour scheme is such a triumph, why oh why did they ever switch to [what seemed to be the default setting in Helsinki] red? Pink, at the very least, or even better gold would have made more appropriate choices.

30 Spain
B: For some reason I associate the fact that I still don’t notice the English lyrics in among the Spanish with Basty more than the other three, perhaps because he seems so utterly... blond. “Kaa giii miii jooo lovv!”
A: Rather insistent in the way it makes its point. With a few more bells it could almost be a little known discotastic No Name number.
V: Well, it’s pretty obvious where their appeal lies. Plucked to perfection.

31 Ireland
B: Lyrics so cringeworthy they’re headache-inducing, in the verses at least. Or rather verse, since there’s only one. The chorus is quite good.
A: Oh for this to be a blatant rip-off of Nocturne, or at the very least an instrumental: the composition and arrangement are fab.
V: Jest a perty baaand... Awful. It’s like the pub landlord and his wife have decided to have an impromptu knees up. And egg & chips was never going to work as a desktop theme.

32 Finland
B: Clever touches to these lyrics, which are full of resentment and bitterness. I particularly like the transition from “I wanna wake you” through “I wanna break you” to “I gotta hate you”, and I love the almost casual addition of “you’ll get yours” at the end of the chorus.
A: This is way more accomplished than I ever realised.
V: Dark, brooding and really quite amazing.

33 Lithuania
B: Easily the most mature set of lyrics Lithuania has ever given us. “I’m trying not to think that at break of dawn / You’ll be gone and I’ll be lost” is almost as wonderful as “Melting in your arms, I fail to realise / Why the mornings always change the colour of your eyes”.
A: Acoustic heaven. I love the fact that it eschews a chorus until it’s ready to give us one.
V: The stark, static presentation gets the thumbs up from me. The director must have loved them: he only needed about three cameras and five different shots.

34 Greece
B: “She is the heart of attention / Probably should mention – she’s mine” make a great couple of lines. More so than Sarbel and anyone called Maria are ever likely to make a couple, great or otherwise.
A: This, then that, then one of these, then this bit again...
V: All very Fabrizio.

35 Sweden
B: The lyrics don’t actually mean anything, but they’re very good. The whole verse starting with “So if you see me somewhere...” is brilliant.
A: Same old retro Swedish pop in a new guise, but refreshing for it. Has roughly the same effect as In My Dreams did for its genre i.e. a production that’s very authentic and very together. The ‘roughly’ bit enters the equation when you realise it’s not as entertaining.
V: Very glam. Ola Salo is the consummate showman.

Addendum: Krisse’s interlude is without doubt the funniest couple of minutes in Eurovision since... well, Silvia Night the year before.

36 France
B: Très clever. I especially like “Des fleurs, des fleurs, des fleurs for you” for some reason.
A: Les Fatals Picards and their music are more likeable from the word go than The Ark. There’s every reason for this to split at the seams, but it doesn’t.
V: File under ‘why we love France at Eurovision’.

37 Russia
B: Clunky and blatant: works a treat. The line the EBU draws when it comes to raunchy and/or offensive lyrics is obviously very blurred.
A: If Never Let You Go was a contemporary classic, this is hyper-modern, right down to the music video interlude. You’ve got to hand it to the Russians: with less than a handful of exceptions, they know how to write damn good pop songs.
V: If we can’t have the Andorran school boys in the final at least we get some of the sleaziest school girls this side of the Urals. The bridge is perfect.

38 Germany
B: Brilliant! Love the lines “Wie sie gehn und stehn / Wie sie dich ansehn / Und shohn öffnen sich Tasche und Herz”.
A: Bugger the women: I want to have Roger Cicero’s babies.
V: Sounds fantastic, but plastering the wall with his name probably wasn’t the best idea in hindsight, and the camerawork is very sluggish.

39 Ukraine
B: “Ruchki, ruchki ye! / Nu, nu, nu Helsinki! / Ukrajina – ce kl’jovo?” Bonkers.
A: As a piece of music, this is clever in ways it ought to have no right to be.
V: The stage looks amazing. Apart from that, words fail me.

40 United Kingdom
B: Carry On Up The Eurosong.
A: Good vocals (and harmonies) save this from being utterly shameful. For all its failings, you can see why it would appeal to a British Eurovision audience, as backhanded a compliment as that may be.
V: Camp as a row of tents. The visual effects are inspired, which is more than can be said for the props, although the ‘nothing to declare’ sign is great.

41 Romania
B: Fantastic rhythm to the lyrics, in all languages, but especially in the Russian lines “Gdye-to tam, kto-to tam, tebya lyubit, ne zabud / Skazhi da, lyubimaya, lyubi, lyubi ty menya”.
A: Great multi-layered arrangement, cementing the sense of a piece of music not getting the treatment it deserves. It’s too good to have to exist under the label ‘novelty entry’, and yet that’s precisely what it turns out to be.
V: They’re just as unattractive as the Latvians, frankly. Sound alright though. Quite a fun performance.

42 Armenia
B: Very bland lyrics for what is, arguably, a very bland ballad, only made more interesting by lines like “Anavart khosqer / Anapak huyser”, which make me wish it had all been in Armenian.
A: Hayko should have realised as composer that his song would have been better in someone else’s hands. It’s not that he’s not a good singer – although he’s not that great either – but to me it lends itself to the lightness of touch only a female vocalist can really provide. There is more strength to it as a piece of music than I recall there being, but as with the Belarusian entry bits of it feel overlooked.
V: Someone should have told Hayko we had him down for a bleeding heart without the need for a tacky prop. Speaking of which: did the silly animatronic tree ever end up doing anything apart from dispensing toilet tissue? Oh, I see it did. Hmm.

And so to the points...

1 point goes to FYR Macedonia

2 points go to Finland

3 points go to Russia

4 points go to Iceland

5 points go to Hungary

6 points go to Lithuania

7 points go to Albania

8 points go to Bosnia and Herzegovina

10 points go to Germany

and finally...

12 points go to...

Georgia!!!

The wooden spoon goes to Switzerland.

2006

2010-03-11T01:46:00.000-08:00

http://www.diggiloo.net/?2006

A triumph of style over substance in many ways, and even then only just.

01 Armenia
B: It’s funny how the opening lines of both verses (“Drumming hearts and your silent words of of love” and “Fly with me, take my wings and dream away”) are poetic and correct in a way that the rest of the lyrics so blatantly aren’t.
A: There’s a more complex arrangement here beneath the flim-flam you actually register than I’ve ever given the song credit for. The bass line is fantastic. For me though all of the song’s potential is in the verses and the bridge; for some reason it loses me come the chorus. Canny debut though.
V: A performance that didn’t deserve to see the song qualify, frankly. Wobbly vocals, and it really doesn’t look or sound like something they’ve been rehearsing all week. The stage and lighting, while probably clever, have far too much going on to be anything other than distracting. [Later] Much more controlled in the final. Big improvement.

02 Bulgaria
B: Some neat, cutting truths here in lines like “I wanted you, you wanted to lie” and “Learning how to obey / Lost my heart and my face”.
A: This lush, multi-layered composition really takes off in the chorus. For something I know started out life at about twice the length, it doesn’t feel all that butchered at three minutes, suggesting they realised what its best bits were and how to cobble them together in a package of edited highlights. I could listen to it over and over again. And indeed do.
V: Gorgeous outfits, and it’s a hair-styling triumph. Ms Popova’s nerves are all too obvious when she’s having to rein her vocals in; when she’s belting them out she’s tops. The less than wonderful backing vocals make it all a bit discordant, unfortunately. Aziz looks like every South-East Asian boy’s worst nightmare.

03 Slovenia
B: “So deeply, so badly, you’re hurting me” still raises an eyebrow. Though I prefer the Serbian version (Srce Od Kristala) to either the Slovene or English ones, I like the sense here that Anžej is just one more cold shoulder away from smothering his ex-lover with the pillow. The team behind this provide a symphony of háčeks.
A: I always feel slightly cheated that it’s not Nuša singing this, what with the bombastic production values and key changes and general melodrama. Trash of the highest grade. The pianist must have needed physiotherapy after all that rapid finger action.
V: Complete reversal between Bulgaria and Slovenia where the hair and outfits are concerned. The music sounds good, but the choreography is awfully mechanical, thanks to which the vocals decline at a rate of knots.

04 Andorra
B: To me these lyrics don’t have the poetry of the principality’s first two entries, and I still don’t see why they couldn’t have done some of it in English given that ‘without you’ is a perfect fit for ‘sense tu’. After all, it would have given poor dear sad old Jenny a respite from the mouthfuls of Catalan she was forced to spout in every stanza, tripping over her tongue as she went. (Reviewing the words now, perhaps “És difícil saber que és molt dur el que m’espera” explains why he left her. Is there a word for a phobia of hard-ons?)
A: How can the start of a song be edited so badly? Atmospheric production that makes great use of its strings and backing vocals. At times they merge and are difficult to tell apart.
V: Wrong on any number of levels.

05 Belarus
B: I love the way Polina throws everything back in her mother’s face! It’s like: you were a teenage whore, so why can’t I be?
A: It sounds like a pinball machine on the set of a late ’80s heavy metal music video.
V: Amazing physical performance, and a perfect example of how the entertainment industry in these parts exists in a world of its own. How anyone anywhere could think something like this would work in the broader European context is beyond me. Is one of the guys wearing some women’s knickers over his Levis?

06 Albania
B: Having a song written by two men calling themselves Klodian Qafoku and Dr. Flori makes me think we should have gotten something more along the lines of Bulgaria 2008 than Zjarr Et Ftohtë. Great lyrics: from the unlikeliness of lines such as “Gjithçka është e kot” to the evocative “Shpresën unë te ty e humba” and the lovely “Zemra kërkon të gjej stacion, tek ty ndalon”, which should feel like a cliché but simply doesn’t.
A: The 10 seconds of soundtrack at the beginning are engrossing. Fantastic build to the chorus, which again lets me down for no easily discernible reason. A bit too fidgety, perhaps, however appropriate that might be. Unlike many abrupt endings to Eurovision entries, this one is great.
V: The two old guys look so out of place on that stage, plastered in make-up. Delightfully simple performance, which therefore isn’t very exciting.

07 Belgium
B: That second screengrab on Diggiloo makes her look like she’s sucking a giraffe’s penis.
A: Surprisingly flat and empty when you really listen to it. Despite never for a second thinking it was going places, the bubble of belief it was carried along on must have made me think it was better than it in fact turns out to be.
V: Of course the OGAYers ensure she gets the most audible reception so far. Is it a good thing that we can’t hear her in the chorus over the backing vocalists? [Watches for a bit] Yes, I love it when rubbish like this is touted to win and then falls flat on its arse. (Stand up Ms Perrelli.) (Boom boom.) The microphone bits are clever.

08 Ireland
B: When Brian the Bisexual sings “Being strong, being tough / Never tender, always rough / It was never enough for me” do you think he’s talking about the realisation that there’s more to life than being an aggressive top?
A: Like it or not, this is a showcase for the kind of uncomplicated song Ireland does so well at Eurovision. Given the preachiness of the lyrics I appreciate the fact that the music is largely understated.
V: The first stage design that actually works. Mr Kennedy gets a bit carried away in his “listen to me, I’ve got something important to say” role: I hate the watch-this finger he raises before he kneels down in the semi. The bleached leprechaun on backing vocals is Aziz’s midget Irish cousin, no?

09 Cyprus
B: 100% puke-a-thon. “When will it all ever end?”
A: Switching to Jessica Garlick’s backing vocalists – or at least one of them – was about the smartest move anyone associated with this song ever made: it always needed to be a huge gospel number. The harp is suitably sanctimonious.
V: I’ve never grasped whether Annet Artani was actually black or had just been on the sunbed for too long. She’s all lungs and bosoms, isn’t she, in a dress like that. Some of the best vocals of the contest here, so it’s a pity they were smothered in sugar syrup. You’d be forgiven for thinking from the crowd reaction that it’s the winner’s reprise.

10 Monaco
B: The Tahitian adds a splash of colour, and the chorus is really upbeat, as is the song generally.
A: Having said that, if this is the best Monaco can do in Eurovision in the 21st century they’re probably better off out of it. If they were serious about “having an equal chance of winning” they’d spend some of their untold squillions on a popular, established and current international chart act and voila: it’d be Monte Carlo here we come. Instead...
V: ...we get this. Have you ever heard consistently flatter vocals in a chorus? It’s not helped by the lacklustre direction: the cameras are constantly moving, but without any hint of energy.

11 FYR Macedonia
B: There’s nothing about these lyrics that’s that impressive, but as with virtually all of the English versions of Macedonia’s entries, they’re flawless. No surprise that Rade Vrčakovski is behind both this and Let Me Love You.
A: I really took to this when I first heard it but the appeal has worn off over time. It has a great driving energy and some neat touches to it, but overall feels rather empty. I constantly find myself wishing it would pick up the pace, too.
V: The stage looks great again when it’s not being pink or red. Whatever the colour, I maintain that Ms Risteska looks like she should be anywhere other than on it: she has a good voice but no charisma at all (rather like her predecessor, Mr Vučić). One of the backing vocalists seems to have enjoyed herself at least – both times, despite the fact that the vocals are all over the shop in the final.

Addendum: What wankers the Greeks were plastering FORMER YUGOSLAV REPUBLIC OF MACEDONIA across a fifth of the screen.

12 Poland
B: Astonishing to think it took five people to pen these lyrics and six to perform them.
A: If more were made of the strings you can occasionally hear through the rest of the ruckus I’d undoubtedly have more time for this. It has qualities which should find me attracted to it, like the acoustic track underpinning it all, but for me it is barely even the sum of its parts. The splicing of languages and vocals is like some musical personality disorder. I’ve never understood the inclusion of dated ’90s rapper the Real McCoy either: as if it wasn’t irritating enough to start with.
V: Least successful most overblown performance in Eurovision history? Someone should have turned the wind machines down: their effects are as audible as they are visible. The whole baby thing is not merely tacky but also faintly disturbing.

13 Russia
B: “Ready kiss, but no love” could well describe how close they came to victory with this. As could “Close embrace, but no more”.
A: It’s not easy to pinpoint why this is one of the most successful contemporary productions in Eurovision in recent years. It’s streaks ahead of Believe in my opinion. The bridge, though doing very little that is different from the rest of the song, stands out in particular.
V: Marina Ahverdova provides fantastic backing vocals here, as she did in Helsinki for Belarus. (She’s the fat one.) (Which is to say the good one.) Clever performance, in that the ballerinas and the piano thing feel like they shouldn’t work but in fact do. I’m glad they pulled off the roses bit in the final.

14 Turkey
B: “Aşka hazır mısın?” makes a great hook into the chorus here. It’s a pity TRT weren’t brave enough to let Sibel chuck in some of the Greek version.
A: A song which does very little until the chorus, when it only does slightly more. Its appeal lies in the fact that it is quintessentially Turkish, but I’m glad they realised before the contest that they needed to achieve a balance between this and more obvious appeal.
V: I wonder whether she genuinely intended to make herself look like a 60-year-old trying to pass for someone a third her age. Thankfully she doesn’t have to try too hard to get the audience on her side. The remix does nothing for the song musically but everything for it otherwise. The dancers are some of the hottest to ever grace the Eurovision stage.

15 Ukraine
B: You can just hear Pavel delivering these lyrics in that droll way of his. “Hi, baby, here I am” makes a great opening line set to that music.
A: Preponderance of songs you scratch and find nothing beneath the surface this year, isn’t there. Here it’s very much a case of: this is it, people, take it or leave it. And as a piece of music I can very much leave it. Massive improvement on the original, needless to say.
V: One of the cleverest and most effortlessly enjoyable performances ever. It’s clear that the delegation demanded and got exactly what they wanted in terms of camerawork.

16 Finland
B: Clever lyrics here. I especially like the ‘Arockalypse’ and the ‘Day of Rockoning’, which are a bit naff but work a treat. “Not quite an angel or the one that fell / Now choose to join us or go straight to hell” is good as well, and works perfectly as the peak of the bridge.
A: Very slick. Mind you, I’ve rarely come across this kind of music and thought otherwise. Perhaps there’s something about the genre which makes every production sound convincing.
V: It’s odd how it’s more obvious that the music isn’t being played live when there actually are instruments on stage*. Work of genius this, really. Mr Lordi looks fab. Can you imagine how empty it would have felt if they’d been disallowed their pyrotechnics as threatened?

17 The Netherlands
B: As imaginary languages go, this one is positively anaemic. The screengrab on Diggiloo makes it look like Sex and the City meets Neiokõsõ meets De Troubadour, and altogether more exciting than it actually is.
A: One of this song’s various pitfalls, but perhaps its greatest, is that its entire first minute builds like the lead-in to something bigger and better – which of course never materialises. As a composition it is rather effective, and I’m sure I’d like it much more if I just had the instrumental to listen to: the acoustic and percussion tracks are fantastic.
V: The desert-and-drums desktop theme is nice, and *at least you can actually hear the percussion being played. The arse shot is misjudged beyond words.

18 Lithuania
B: Love the “(Better in stereo)” bit.
A: I still wish, for several valid reasons, that this had been about a minute long. It is only now though that I discover the rather fabulous synths tucked away ’twixt chorus and verse.
V: Yay, the audience hates them! Every second of this performance makes sense. In hindsight I would have been amused to see it actually win.

19 Portugal
B: “Não estragues a noite com coisas de nada” says it all, really.
A: There’s just no escaping how lame this is. You could argue that Portugal has the patent out on unambitious entries, and this is the benchmark.
V: The vocals are fantastic, which always comes as a surprise.

20 Sweden
B: There’s not much depth to these lyrics, but “Love is like a miracle invading your heart” is an unusually poetic and apt line for such shameless schlager.
A: There’s unexpected depth to the music in parts, which makes you realise that writing really good schlager is an art all of its own. Everything falls into place here. This is the Eurovision comeback Charlotte probably deserved but never got, precisely because Carola had already beaten her to it.
V: I wouldn’t have minded this winning either, actually – it pushes all the right buttons. Stage, lighting and camerawork all come together, and Carola’s the very definition of a vocal powerhouse. Love her croaky ad-libs in the final.

21 Estonia
B: A showcase of the Jana Hallas school of song-writing: lyrics that fit together perfectly and mean bugger all.
A: How I ever thought this stood a chance of qualifying in competition with Invincible – let alone coming right after it – is beyond me now. Even if it had been in a league of its own I doubt it would have come close to crossing the line: it’s simply too weak. There’s nothing wrong with it, and it’s still catchy, but it’s the antithesis of the Swedish entry in terms of how involving it is.
V: The hair and wardrobe people have clearly left the building to catch the last bus home.

22 Bosnia and Herzegovina
B: Utterly romantic in every sense. I love the sound of “U kosu stavi ruzmarin / I jedan cvijet kraj šadrvana” and the painful self-awareness inherent in “Ja odlazim k’o da sam kriv / Što voljeh onu koju ne smijem”.
A: The way this envelops you musically is quite astounding. Our Harry’s vocals add just the right amount of gravitas to it without tipping it over into gross sentimentality. Rich and rewarding.
V: The stage looks brilliant, mostly because you can’t see it. There’s absolutely nothing like this in the rest of the semi-final, or the entire contest for that matter, and it’s lovely that it’s so obviously appreciated. The blonde on the accordion has a startlingly small mouth. The ending is fantastic!

23 Iceland
B: The chorus here could have been the template for Krisse in Helsinki.
A: Such a charismatic arrangement. If any composition could be described as tongue-in-cheek, it’s this one.
V: All this and we get Sigga on backing vocals!

24 Switzerland
B: Terrible lyrics here, and not merely because of the barf factor: time and again in the verses they are mangled to fit the music and end up sounding completely clunky. When you run them together as one sentence they’re fine, but break them up between bars and it just doesn’t work. And what’s a ‘rock of stone’? What other kinds of rocks are there?
A: I like the strummy guitar bits, and strings never have to do much to please me. Twee excesses elsewhere though, as you might expect.
V: Listen to the sad Maltese fans wet themselves every time Keith Camilleri puts in a bright orange appearance. To his right stands Tinka: such a shame she wasted herself on this. She’s a thousand times more engaging than anyone else. And she has the best dress.

25 Moldova
B: When Ms Gordienko says “Hey, loco, please espera un poco / And I’ll give you my choco”, is she offering herself up for a bit of back-door fun? Probably the only kind she’d get from Arsenium.
A: I cheered when I heard this had emerged victorious from the debacle of the national final, since it seemed fresh and different. Indeed, as three minutes of music to listen to there’s nothing much wrong with it, if you like that kind of thing. It just doesn’t translate to the stage.
V: You only need glance at the screengrabs on Diggiloo to realise what a disaster this performance is. Does anyone even notice that Ms Gordienko keeps shedding clothes?

26 Israel
B: The gospel overtones of this always led me to believe it was a praise-the-lord kind of song. Wasn’t it originally? I vaguely remember being surprised at the time that it had transformed into a bog-standard ballad by the final. In any case, there is a strange beauty to the look and sound of “Ohav otakh la’ad”.
A: Yes, all a bit too Life TV for my liking. Beautifully produced, but trying to say something I don’t want to hear.
V: The speed at which everyone’s vocals fall apart is spectacular.

27 Latvia
B: I rather like these lyrics, in isolation.
A: Cosmos are clearly talented, and seem like a nice bunch of lads. So why can’t I stand them?
V: Off-white really is just a shade of white, isn’t it. I wonder whether their performing this at a significantly higher rate of BPMs than in the studio version was a conscious decision. In any case I’m grateful. Crap robot, but the floating heart’s a nice touch.

28 Norway
B: The lyrics here are not a thing of beauty per se...
A: ...but they take on an almost magical quality when delivered by Ms Guldbrandsen against such a vivid and expressive musical backdrop – one that could easily be alienating, but simply resonates.
V: Great backing vocals from a very experienced trio, too. The Scandinavians know when they’re on to a good thing in that department. It constantly amazes me that something so folksy and sedate feels so upbeat, but that’s probably because of its place in the final line-up: after that start, anything with a sense of purpose would. The stage looks beautiful. I love the fact that Christine seems genuinely surprised at the end that anyone likes her song.

29 Spain
B: Hands down the lyrics of the contest, and potentially of any contest.
A: This forgets to have a chorus until more than half of it’s over, and even then it doesn’t really feel like one. Not that I’m complaining: the whole thing’s lush. Completely wrong for Eurovision, but hey, you can’t have everything.
V: Do they ever actually use those microphone stands, or are they purely there for prop purposes? Oh, they do. The vocals are a bit ragged in places, but I can forgive that, since it seems kind of appropriate. The androgyny of the dancers earns them bonus points.

30 Malta
B: I think this is about Fabrizio being in love with a married man.
A: Where this is heavy on the bass it is light on any other redeeming feature.
V: Well, you can see why it would win in Malta. Appalling. The choreography was meant to be an improvement on Copenhagen, wasn’t it? And what are we supposed to glean from the fact that the song’s 1 solitary point came from an Albanian jury?

31 Germany
B: Fantastic rhythm.
A: Just spent 2 minutes and 28 seconds singing along to every word. That should tell you all you need to know :)
V: I still don’t understand why a performance this likeable failed to translate into more than 36 points. Was Europe not ready for a German-Australian-American fusion?

32 Denmark
B: The ’50s feel runs all the way through this, even the lyrics. “He didn’t know how to make a girl insist” is a great line, and the resulting “Be sure you know how to make a girl insist” sets feminism back just the right number of years to fit in perfectly with the overall feel of the song.
A: Brilliant, if you’re in the mood for it. Otherwise it’s just well cobbled together.
V: I challenge anyone to come up with a less likely bunch of names than Sidsel Ben Semmane, Daniel ‘Sonic’ Rojas, Mynte Lagoni, Susanne Palsbøl, Christina Boelskifte and Nini Bagger. And what’s with her finger?

33 Romania
B: “And I wonder why I didn’t know” is a welcome but also massively self-delusional admission leading into the big finale.
A: There’s little to distinguish this as a composition from Malta, to be honest, except that it has a more tangible sense of purpose. It doesn’t even start to gel for me though until the bridge. I still prefer the original.
V: Mihai’s scary to look at, isn’t he. Having said that, he gives us one of the best key changes in Eurovision history. The overacting elsewhere is hilarious.

34 United Kingdom
B: Why would your teachers ask you what you learnt at school that day?
A: Much like Mr Sampson himself, Teenage Life – as both a Eurovision entry and a song written in the 21st century – feels like a leftover from another decade. Without the vocals and sound effects I’m sure I would actually like it, because the arrangement is much more layered than it ought to be. Add a Russian male voice choir and, pedestrian verses aside, it could be something written by Neil Tennant and Chris Lowe.
V: Poor Daz – he looks like he has a mental age of about nine. Great vocals from the girls, and the performance generally is far better than you expect it to be. I actually like the fact that Daz entreats viewers to “vote for the music”.

35 Greece
B: These lyrics are clever without trying to be, and I like that. I’d have changed the title though, just for the mild amusement of hearing some commentator saying “Here’s Anna Vissi for Greece with everything I hate”.
A: The Greeks just can’t be doing without an electric guitar, can they. I suppose it’s the kind of song that needs something with a bit of oomph; the rest of the composition is rather fragile and subdued. I always feel I’m not going to like this much when I listen to it but come away realising I do, which is fitting.
V: This went up a pitch after it emerged from the studio, too, like Turkey. All for the good. Athens doesn’t provide many of them, but hearing the home crowd sing along to every chorus of this is one of the most uplifting and affirming moments of any contest.

36 France
B: Lovely, albeit confusing: the chorus makes it sound like a post-mortem sigh of relief.
A: Virginie Pouchin’s vocals I can take or leave**, but the music... the music...!
V: **Especially when she’s about half a key off for the entire song. Where did they find Matheson Bayley? He’s a bit of alright, if on the thin side.

37 Croatia
B: Great rhythm here as well (especially in “Jer još trava nije nikla / Tamo gdje je stala moja štikla”), underscoring the harmless slap’n’tickleness of it all. Nobody’s ever nibbled me in public so that no one else can see, but I like the sound of it.
A: Bah, it has me grinning like a fool!
V: The nearest we’ve ever come to having a blow-up doll representing her country at Eurovision? This wouldn’t have qualified from the semi-final if it’d had to, but the fact it was in the final instead of Poland can only be a good thing. It’s totally barmy.

And so to the points...

1 point goes to Finland

2 points go to Iceland

3 points go to Sweden

4 points go to Spain

5 points go to Norway

6 points go to Russia

7 points go to France

8 points go to Bulgaria

10 points go to Germany

and finally...

12 points go to...

Bosnia and Herzegovina!!!

The wooden spoon goes to Belarus, although Poland and Malta deserve special mention for also being spectacularly crap.

2005

2010-03-11T01:18:00.000-08:00

http://www.diggiloo.net/?2005

Far more than ten songs that deserve to get points, but that’s inevitable in a field this big.

01 Austria
B: Some great touches to the lyrics here: “El ritmo puro de la música alpina” could be self–deprecating in context, but the music proves otherwise, and the line with the yodelling in it is clever stuff. I love the fact that the writing team behind it is Köhldorfer & Spörk, and that the cute guy’s name is Sebastian Fuchsberger. Give me two of his all-beef patties with some special sauce any day. Woof.
A: Did this come anywhere close to winning the award for best composition in 2005? It deserves to have. There are so many fantastic touches it’s hard to pick one that I love more than the others, but the little bit leading into the second verse is brilliant. The whole thing’s just so clever. Austria has rarely if ever done better than this.
V: Lovely relaxed performance, if a little too relaxed in parts – the pace quickly seems to slacken. The stage looks fantastic from the off.

02 Lithuania
B: Blah lyrics. Blah everything really.
A: The way those opening bars drop into the first verse so brutally you just know this is Swedish. Unfortunately, it doesn’t feature that other trademark of a disconnected chorus with a fantastic hook, and the overall sense is very much of something shipped off to another country because no one at home would touch it. Humanitarian aid past its use-by date, that kind of thing. By no means incompetent, but completely dull.
V: The lack of enthusiasm with which the audience greets the Lithuanian entry says it all. Everything about this is Swedish except the one thing that needs to be, and as a result the performance rivals Germany’s in the fake and lacklustre stakes. Laura’s vocals just aren’t there. Is the slightly pudgy backing vocalist Sanna Nielsen?

03 Portugal
B: I had no idea this came from the same composer as Lusitana Paixão. I have no idea either what the lyrics are about – plastic surgery perhaps (“Brand new kind of face, I love you anyway”). I do like the line “Só quem não quer amar / Olha sem ver”.
A: There’s a real build to this and the production is very atmospheric. I don’t think the vocals really come together until the chorus; the arrangement tends to sound odd in the verses. Whatshername’s voice I can take or leave, but Rui Drumond’s has something to it which adds to the song.
V: The power of the music just ebbs away completely in this performance, which is refreshingly [but also overly] busy for Portugal. Not a single element of it works, and it is scarred by one of the worst sound mixes in the history of the contest, rivalling anything 2004 produced.

04 Moldova
B: Vibrant and zany. I could start a catalogue of quotes of stuff I love here, but I’ll restrict myself to idolising “pop you up with that beat”, “you are [a] slapping queen” and “by the end of [the] show you will blow yourself to bits”.
A: Another very impressive and multi-layered arrangement, which fits in with the animated feel of the verses. I’m still surprised any country would go for something like this as their debut entry, but it points to the way the contest has changed in recent years, and needless to say I’m chuffed they did.
V: It was always going to win people over, wasn’t it, like some completely mad but nevertheless endearing relative. Frenetic camerawork aside, the final performance is even more together than in the semi.

05 Latvia
B: “I’m so sorry I’m so helpless in this angry world / ... / If only we would start [to] believe in dreams / Believe in who we are.” Oh fuck off. This still makes me puke.
A: The fact that Mārtiņš Freimanis was happy to reveal this took him about 10 minutes to write says a lot. I’ll give him his dues though, worse songs have been written in more time, and I suppose the point of pop is to be uncomplicated. The vocals are effective with this kind of echoey production, although introducing the percussion half way through is a little too obvious a step for my liking. The ending is very Annie Lennox in Diva phase.
V: Why do Latvian performances almost instantly get my back up? The blonde one looks like a turtle trying to retract its head into its shell, sat on that stool. I wonder if Eurovision’s deaf audience appreciated their signing. They certainly wouldn’t have appreciated their singing. [Later] Much better in the final, at least in terms of vocals.

06 Monaco
B: As usual the French lyrics are a thing of beauty without really saying much. I’m not sure what “Et si les dieux sont contre nous / Alors je serais marabout” means, but I like it.
A: I’m thinking forty, possibly fifty years out of time. I love an orchestral arrangement though and this one is lush. There’s something huge but entirely unpretentious about it. The final minute is a triumph.
V: Wow, I’d forgotten how beautiful she looked and sounded. There’s something surreal about Monaco’s short-lived return to Eurovision, like it never really happened, and for what it’s worth it might as well not have given the results they achieved. This, though, deserved better. For the camerawork alone if nothing else.

07 Israel
B: Beautiful Hebrew lyrics, with classic lines like “Noshemet li mimkha vehata’am kvar mar”. The English lyrics don’t exude the same poetry but still suit the song – and the emotional transformation Shiri undergoes in performing it – perfectly.
A: If for no other reason, this stands out simply for being a straightforward ballad from a country that would normally produce drowsy anthems or political statements set to music. But of course there are a hundred other reasons, too. I don’t really need to list them, do I.
V: Ms Darly is of course knocked into a cocked hat by Ms Maimon, despite the fact that she gives a flawless demonstration here in the semi of her quality of being about half a note off for almost the entire duration of the song. Still sends shivers down my spine though. [Later] On song from the off in the final, like some gorgeous, blonde, all-singing Wonder Woman.

08 Belarus
B: More Greek credentials than the Greek entry. I suppose this was the lesser of two evils, given the other option was Boys And Girls. “So take your chance and feel me / I’m ready now” is not an invitation one receives terribly often. Sadly.
A: From the word go you can tell she can’t sing her way out of a paper bag. I much prefer this studio version to the one they used in Ukraine with all that farty brass and synths, but that’s still relative. Takes trashy to new levels, and not necessarily in a way I condone.
V: Fabulous outfits. Excruciating vocals.

09 The Netherlands
B: When you strip this song of Glennis Grace’s vocals, all you’re left with is a set of lyrics that is as tired as the music it is set to. They’re little more than a string of clichés.
A: See, this is big in a pompous way where Monaco isn’t, at least for me. Like it thinks it actually has something to say. I was impressed by it originally, but I can’t for the life of me think why now. That was the trap we all fell into, I suppose.
V: Terrific vocals, as you might expect, but the whole thing’s very sub-Whitney.

10 Iceland
B: I love the listing of “Fast asleep, wide awake, every step / Every move I make”. Pity the latter turned out to be so ham-fisted.
A: Fabulous opening. I love a composition that surprises you but without also leaving you with the feeling that it’s disconnected: here the way the music shifts and changes almost seems organic. Þorvaldur Bjarni Þorvaldsson’s credentials are obvious when he’s got this, All Out Of Luck and Congratulations on his CV.
V: The false start is rather appropriate in hindsight. The cameras fail to catch just about anything that might have taken the edge off it :–(

11 Belgium
B: There’s only so much soir I can take, to be honest. “Ce soir, tous ces regards / Là dans le noir, la peur et l’espoir” makes you wonder where the lyricist drew his inspiration from.
A: Arguably the least overstated of its ilk in Kyiv, but that is also its undoing. Still, I never have anything against listening to it all the way through, as it has a certain pull. And I’ve always liked the way the last 20 seconds make it sound like they’re branching out into a completely different song.
V: Vocals of the night so far. The stage, lighting and camerawork are all pleasingly muted.

12 Estonia
B: Check out the picture of Jaanika Vilipo on Diggiloo: it’s an Oompa-Loompa with pearls. Where’s the twinset? “Bold & Beautiful ain’t our theme tonight” is an understatement when emanating from the mouth of Mari-Leen Kaselaan. She makes my flesh crawl. I pointed out to ETV that these lyrics were shit, and they passed on my suggestions to Mr. Lõhmus, but he was clearly either too proud to change them or didn’t care.
A: Flat, unimaginative and horribly insistent music, which is ironically appropriate.
V: LOL at the “Estoniya – woooooo!” some random woman screams at the start. Dana ‘token black one’ Ots is the only member of Suntribe who looks natural. Until the middle eight their vocals are more together than I’d given them credit for, but that’s not saying much. “Elagu Eesti!” they shout at the end (‘long live Estonia’) but I’d rather put the country out of its misery if this is the best it can come up with.

13 Norway
B: “Love is all over me” as a hook is lascivious and naughty, and therefore gets my thumbs up. If they were going for a total ’80s feel with the lyrics they couldn’t have been more spot-on.
A: Like I said at the time, they open the song with exactly the right bit, and after that you can’t help but go along for the ride. I stand by my view that it’s one of the most together productions and complete packages of the year.
V: Crowd-pleaser from about three seconds in. They’re a bit like your dad’s favourite band from before you were born.

14 Romania
B: Let’s be honest: it’s not about the words, is it?
A: It’s not much about the music either, as bombastic and fabulous as it is.
V: It’s all about the performance. Without doubt Romania’s shrewdest entry, despite Luminiţa’s tin foil corset. Her voice has such projection and she has to hold the microphone so far from her mouth that it looks like she’s miming. Sistem are dressed a bit odd: with the fixtures and fittings it’s like a blue collar gay disco in a radioactive waste warehouse.

15 Hungary
B: Lyrics full of odd concepts which are sufficiently evocative to cancel out the impact of the na-na-na bits. I like the awareness in “Vad éjszakád / Megöl, bár csókkal vár”.
A: Love it, love it, love it. Drive, depth and subtlety. And clapping!
V: Silvia Szabó, you are the weakest link. Goodbye. Thank God she smiles when she dances. Amazing routine.

16 Finland
B: Two things make these lyrics more palatable than The War Is Not Over: they’re not being sung by a duo of gormless teens, and they sound better. I particularly like the couplet “Morning breaks with the news of violence / Nothing moves in the haze of silence”, although parts of the rest of it are still a bit OTT.
A: Fantastic vocals, and the piano and acoustics are great, too. By the end though it’s a bit like a deflated soufflé – it rises nicely, but then there’s just a bit too much hot air and pop. It’s gone.
V: Oh dear: total styling disaster unfolding here. Brilliant vocals though.

17 FYR Macedonia
B: I like the inversion of the man struggling out from under the thumb of the woman, but putting a more positive spin on it would probably have made more sense and certainly have been easy enough.
A: Way better than the original, which is true of all Macedonian entries really. The verses remain plodding and ambition-free until the bridge, which has some amusing sound effects when you listen for them. The instrumental break finally gives the song some focus.
V: Crap dancing from absolutely everyone. Love it!

18 Andorra
B: Another poetic entry from Andorra. “Ves i explora dins del teu univers interior” leaves itself entertainingly open to interpretation.
A: It’s immediately obvious with this song that it has a purpose, if you know what I mean. It’s grand and theatrical in a way that is unexpected and unexpectedly effective, especially when offset with that middle eight. The integrity is admirable.
V: Not that this was a sow’s ear to start with, but they certainly made a silk purse out of it. That said, Anabel Conde’s breakdown furrows the brow.

19 Switzerland
B: It’s uncanny that a set of lyrics penned by Bernd Meinunger resonates so strongly of Vanilla Ninja’s bread-and-butter stuff. No idea what they mean.
A: Surprising how perfectly pitched it is, too.
V: Interesting to see them halfway between styles here. The girls were never going to replicate the studio version’s angelic chorus, but that doesn’t excuse the half-hearted backing vocals we do get. Lenna Kuurmaa is, of course, fantastic.

20 Croatia
B: Wolves Die Alone isn’t the most upbeat of titles, but it reflects an impressively dark set of lyrics, with lines like “Tišina k’o sidro veže mrak” and “K’o lišće sam, vjetar me raznosi” standing out. No wonder composer Franjo Valentić went from this to Moja Štikla.
A: That opening is about as Macedonian (or by extension Albanian) as any of the other former Yugoslav republics have gotten at Eurovision. The music is brilliant at pulling you along with it – there’s a real tug to the composition.
V: Oops, I was singing along and forgot to type anything. [Later] I’d forgotten what an unnecessary distraction the hand-standing, foot-clapping drummer is, although at least he gives us a bit of butt crack.

21 Bulgaria
B: “Lorraine in the rain” deserves a slap but “Whispering your name again / Singing prayers among the stars” is lovely.
A: Yet another surprising debut, for all sorts of reasons. This is just as authentic and uncompromising as Moldova. The arrangement is fantastic, and the sound effects are a simple touch that works well.
V: The lead singer is just too good-looking for words, and he’s not even my type. He puts in a classy vocal performance for someone who is, or was, actually a dancer. The stage looks fantastic with its tortoise shell effect.

22 Ireland
B: 90% of this is eye-rollingly self-important, but I love the middle verse (“If you want it, come and get it / Even though you know the score”).
A: Why does anything uptempo from Ireland always sound so strange? The harmonies here are great, voices aside. The Riverdance bit doesn’t work in studio.
V: Donna gets points for her dodgy teeth and gutsy vocals. Joe gets my sympathy for looking like such an incurable dork. As an ensemble they earn my respect for filling the stage and the screen, although much of the praise here must go to the lighting director.

23 Slovenia
B: To me Slovene often sounds a little clunky and unattractive, but there are lines here – “Zakaj se oba pretvarjava?” and “Kot prah obriši me, pod prsti zruši vse” – where I’m forced to revise my opinion.
A: I love the way Omar Naber delivers this. Class effort from Slovenia, which is not something we often get to say about their entries. Fantastic ending.
V: Has anyone ever given such a Joey-from-Friends performance at Eurovision, or looked the part more? God love him and his cross-eyed opera-singing friend.

24 Denmark
B: “You nailed me to the floor with just one look” makes a great opening line. I still prefer the Danish version, but I’ve warmed to what we got.
A: Amazing piano. Amazing everything when you absorb it through headphones. As is normal for Danish entries there is something very cosy about the arrangement.
V: Tremendous confidence to this performance, and the stage hasn’t looked this good all night. [Later] It still hasn’t looked this good all night!

25 Poland
B: That picture on Diggiloo makes Ivan Komarenko look like Eric Roberts. “Hajda wy bystre konie / Nieście nas z całych sił – aha!” is a bit of a wink-wink nudge-nudge moment.
A: I don’t know whether the Gypsy feel to this is authentic or not, but it’ll do. Makes for one of the most uptempo Eurovision entries ever.
V: There’s arguably a bit too much going on here for it to work, but I like it. It’s clear they left the best stage designs to the end of the night.

26 United Kingdom
B: Kudos to Ms Hylton for penning her own lyrics. I especially like the verse openers “Do you really wanna feel my flow” and “Are you easy come and easy go”.
A: This seemed like such a good idea at the time, but when you listen to it now it’s pretty empty, and not in that good minimalist kind of way. There’s only so much room on the playing field in this genre: the Balkans have most of it, and France gets a look in, but the UK is squeezed out here, even though there’s no real reason it should be. Though the rest of it leaves me (ironically) cold, the middle eight – where it still sounds to me like everything else has just been the intro to some massive house remix – is great.
V: You wouldn’t pick this for a British entry in a million years. Javine always makes me think of those hopeless bitches who get eliminated in the first or second week of America’s Next Top Model: the ones who have the look and the attitude, but stick ’em in front of a camera and the only clue they have is the one given to them. In this case her instructions were clearly to flash her ring in as crass and obvious a way as possible before exiting the stage.

27 Malta
B: Simple and effective, rather like The One That I Love.
A: Simple and effective and better than The One That I Love.
V: Simple and effective and more immediate than The One That I Love.

28 Turkey
B: Some of these lyrics go a long way to explaining why Gülseren comes across the way she does: “Müptela olmuş, dönmüşüm şaşkına” and “Acınası bak şu deli halim” in particular. Others show that the song is rather downbeat, despite everything: “Aşk değil bu, sanki bir ceza bana” and “Sonunda yine beni mahvedensin”. Bearing all of this in mind, what we end up with is strangely appropriate.
A: Still sounds like music to a ‘Visit Turkey’ commercial to me, but without having any sense of going anywhere.
V: Settle down dear! It’s like some Aztec kung fu-cum-tai chi workshop at the beginning, before turning into a drum display at a Greek taverna worthy of the Orient. It’s mad! Best use of six people and a handful of props to fill the stage in a long time.

29 Albania
B: Sidorela is a nice name. Her lyrics are quite nice, too.
A: I’m not sure why this takes so long to do anything; perhaps because the chorus is so flat. It has all the potential in the world but just can’t apply it. (Not dissimilar to their 2006 entry.) The last 30 seconds are great though.
V: And the arrangement comes across really well live. Our Ledina is all hair and cleavage and teeters on a vocal precipice throughout.

30 Cyprus
B: If Constantinos was aiming for a Sakis feel, at least he got it right in the lyrics.
A: And perhaps in how cheap and contrived it all feels.
V: And in how camp it is. Bleurgh.

31 Spain
B: I wonder whether Spanish lyricists get paid by the word. I’d want to be, considering elision means you have to write about twice as much.
A: Love the Bewitched opening. The rhythm and unadulterated Spanishness of this are what make it listenable, in spite of the vocals, which are of the type that never appeal to me. The fat guy in the background is a massive mistake.
V: Great use of colour on the stage and in their dresses. Rough vocals.

32 Serbia and Montenegro
B: I suppose you can read something into this if you want to. The rhythm of the lyrics fits the music perfectly.
A: Bells! Sounds enormous. The vocals are uneven in how good they are, but work well together overall. It’s more of a fragment of a song though than a song in its own right, like it’s the last three minutes of some much longer composition.
V: Talk about gay disco! They’re like the cast of an American teen comedy performing some elaborate mating ritual. Timing (and drums) here that would make Macedonia proud.

33 Sweden
B: Very taut.
A: Smooth, slick and soulless.
V: A fine example of “just doing what we did at Melodifestivalen” falling flat on its arse. Sounds good though.

34 Ukraine
B: It’s startling how much this song must have meant to the majority of Ukrainians at the time. There’s plenty of power behind lines like “God be my witness, we’ve waited too long”.
A: An orchestra is what this song needs and an orchestra is what this song gets. I think it’s fabulous. From the halfway mark and by the end its wings have well and truly sprouted.
V: The guy with the green guitar was the original Holly in Red Dwarf wasn’t he? I don’t think any home entry in Eurovision has ever had or ever will have as much significance as this song.

35 Germany
B: Shame the whole thing doesn’t work overall because the lyrics make it sound like a proper song.
A: It’s not that bad, actually. Fake, yes, but still better than a handful of other songs from 2005. Damning it with faint praise though that is.
V: A more bum note to start off with we have never had, like she’s launched into the key change two minutes early. The rest of it’s OK, I guess.

36 Greece
B: I maintain that the lyrics to the verses and chorus read like they were penned by different people, or even for two unrelated songs. I still like rhymes like delicious/capricious and addiction/conviction/crucifixion.
A: Why do I suspect that My Number One will be to Greece what Waterloo is to Sweden? High production values, clear national flavour, entirely accessible to a wider audience. And slightly empty.
V: There might be only one number involved but it’s been calculated to the last possible place. Still, it produces a commanding routine which is at least the sum of its parts, if not more. Alex Panayi’s backing vocals are flawless.

37 Russia
B: The very Americanness of this still has me scratching my head as to how it ended up in the hands of Ms Podolskaya (or rather her producer) and how it managed to win the national final. I suspect money changed hands.
A: Very solid, if a little blustery as things progress. Makes good use of its three minutes.
V: Natashka surprised me then and she surprises me again now for the strength of her performance here: way better than anything the country had sent in the previous three years. Remind me why half the people involved were Finnish?

38 Bosnia and Herzegovina
B: What a pity for them that the line “Fifty candles on the forty cakes” didn’t come off. It’s all so shamelessly jolly and self-referential.
A: Cheap and likeable, as so many Bosnian entries have been, and the only entry in 2005 to actually make something of the anniversary year. Mr Babić can give me something like this over Cvet Z Juga any day.
V: Best preview video of the year, hands down. I remember thinking to myself at the time: if the audience is in the right mood this might actually win. Ha! Still love it though.

39 France
B: These words work quite well as an anthem.
A: At last something different from France without compromising on quality. Fantastic acoustic drive and rhythm, and the strings work really well in the chorus. I love the variation in the vocals in the last minute, from bare and stripped to multi-layered. It was never going to do very well, but it’s an underrated gem.
V: Absolutely nothing wrong with the performance that I can see (or hear). Again one of the best mixes of stage and lighting is left till the end of the night.

And so to the points...

1 point goes to Bulgaria

2 points go to France

3 points go to Serbia and Montenegro

4 points go to Denmark

5 points go to Slovenia

6 points go to Norway

7 points go to Austria

8 points go to Iceland

10 points go to Romania

and finally...

12 points go to...

Israel!!!

In such a field it wouldn’t be right not to share the wooden spoons, and so two are awarded: to Cyprus and Estonia.

2004

2010-03-04T03:47:00.000-08:00

http://www.diggiloo.net/?2004

Quite a lot to like.

01 Finland
B: Good lyrics which go well with the style of music they’re set to.
A: The tango capital of the northern hemisphere shows what it’s made of – with mixed results. The music (in terms of how it’s put together in places) comes across as decidedly mediocre. So much more feels like it could have been made of it without sounding anywhere near as bitty.
V: Finland’s undisputed King of Tongue-ohh... or should that be Queen? White trousers don’t even look good on the male dancer, so I don’t know what Jari was thinking. And his choreography’s crap. And most of the time he sounds like he’s singing in a different key. Maybe that’s just the sound though.

02 Belarus
B: Slightly daft but nevertheless meaningful lyrics. I love the idea of ‘rotating to someone’.
A: Ooh, doesn’t this sound weird when you listen to it? I’d forgotten they tampered with it, making it sound appropriately (but less pleasingly) empty. Its lovely combination of sounds would have benefited from richer layering.
V: Lovely lighting. Lovely pottery flute, too. Aleksandra is quaking in her knee-length boots and her performance is far too static to make an impact.

03 Switzerland
B: “Everything is gonna be alright.” Not!
A: Does this have any musical merit whatsoever? I think not. Well, to be fair, it has an exemplary bassline. Otherwise... bargain basement horror.
V: Three minutes lasted a lot longer a few years ago, didn’t they. It’s like children’s TV, but even more spectacularly awful. The desperation of it all. Love the way Piero smacks himself in the face with the microphone: sums it up really.

04 Latvia
B: My favourite lines are “Ik reizi, kad tālumā brīnumu jūt / Es vēlos vēl tuvāk tev būt”. I was going to say ‘my favourite lines remain’ but I can’t remember if they were back in the day.
A: The biggest makeover disaster of the entire contest, in terms of the song. (There was little that could be done for Fomins & Kliens.) The original acoustic arrangement suited the lyrics perfectly, but in its place they chose to give us this wall of noise. Stripped of its charm musically it just sounds lazy and boring.
V: Could’ve gone to the pub if I’d wanted to listen to something like this. The synchronous drum thing’s quite good, but... na na... na na na na na... na na na na... no.

05 Israel
B: I still like the way you can run two lines together to make “To have a dream that maybe one day we can find the way to have a dream”: it’s the lyrical version of an Escher print.
A: I both like and dislike the way the brass is given a voice of its own here, mostly because the arrangement is otherwise rather nice but predictable. Quite dreamy though. And David D’Or may have a golden voice, but I’m more of a silver man myself. The la-la chorus is Israel by numbers and hugely irritating. The song doesn’t really go anywhere either.
V: What a bizarre performance this is. Where Sweden constantly strikes it rich with backing singers, Israel’s do an a cappella version of Live Report’s Why Do I Always Get It Wrong. Mr D’Or looks like he’s just wandering around, unsure of what to do with himself, and dropping his balls at the last minute is an ill-judged move. It has always struck me as him realising the song has bombed and just saying “fuck it”. It might have come within douze points of qualification, but didn’t deserve to on this showing.

06 Andorra
B: “Vull que em diguis ‘jo t’estimo’, tot i no ser veritat” and the chorus as a whole make these probably the best lyrics of 2004 and of Eurovision generally in a long time.
A: I preferred the song before they played with it, but there’s no denying the strength of the composition and arrangement. The weak link is of course Marta Roure herself, whose voice doesn’t suit proceedings entirely. But a terrific debut entry nonetheless.
V: In studio at least. Poor Marta sounds off from the first line and certainly doesn’t look any better. (They’re on another planet in the bridge.) The choreography is way too busy for a song that delivers 180 words per minute. It gives her no room to breathe at all, and she’s already struggling on the low notes.

07 Portugal
B: As it turns out, nothing in the song lives up to the promise of excitement in the lines “Não sei o que me deu / Mas de repente lá estava eu”. Maybe they’re more rueful than raring-to-go.
A: Better than the epilepsy-inducing original? Who can say. It doesn’t inspire you to think anything much about it at all. Criminal waste of Sofia Victoria’s voice. Repetitive isn’t the word.
V: Well, they all look fabulous. Pink’s not many people’s colour but Sofia Victoria pulls it off in style. Nice, simple, controlled choreography after Andorra’s display of Tourette’s syndrome. Far too few close-ups on the lads (i.e. none). The song is waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay too long. Even the 60-second version from the abridged Australian showing of the semi was pushing it.

08 Malta
B: Taken out of context, I adore the lines “...how do I reach inside you?” and “There’s a river between us” and the reference to “the magic that flows from within”!
A: Terrible edit within the opening ten seconds. If you rip shreds off Monaco for being monotonously pre-programmed, you can’t but take aim at this. At least Mr Siegel was experienced enough in remixing it to make it borderline catchy. Julie & Ludwig’s melodramatic delivery is a real love-it-or-hate-it thing; I tend towards the latter, but as part of the overall package I guess it works. Nevertheless, it’s Malta at its most sickeningly twee.
V: Sounds like the entire population of Malta’s in the arena. Between them and the front-row Finns... Ludwig’s a dork but Julie’s a bit of a diva. Glad they got the camerawork right for the final (well, almost): it’s very effective. The stage looks huge, too. Fantastic. Ludwig almost laughs out loud, twice, faced with Julie’s operatic nonsense, as indeed would I in his position. Great energy in the final chorus.

09 Monaco
B: It’s a pity great lines like “On a construit des prisons de verre / Sur des forêts de cendres” are nullified by others like “Qui se souvient des océans bleus / Des baleines et leurs chants?”.
A: The whale song is the icing on the cake in this Kids 4 Conservation anthem. It has a few random good points, but when you pull it apart it’s a beat and a few sound effects with Maryon on her schoolgirl soapbox remonstrating in the background. Get a fucking clue, Monaco.
V: The first real gimmick of the contest and it comes from this lot! Not sure what the spangly cape is meant to represent, but I’m loving it. Maryon looks and sounds a hundred times better than expected. Still, it’s a bit too much like a school concert for the mums and the mayor to be given much consideration.

10 Greece
B: All these lyrics are designed to do is make everyone think Sakis wants to shag them.
A: God, what trash. Sounds almost as cheap as Celebrate, but is thankfully much catchier. Almost as little credibility though musically. Oddly enough, I once again find myself drawn to the bassline, which is great.
V: Oh, I forgot that was the pre-makeover version. The wonders a decent remix can work. The sound is so much better in the final than in the semi – you can pick out so much more (= any) detail in the music. But if it had won it would have made no more dignified a winner than Marie N; there just would’ve been a much larger slice of the audience wanting to have sex with him. Sakis, after all, is a total whore. A damn fine-looking one admittedly (if you like ’em plucked), but this is Eurotrash porn for the one-hand-clapping masses. He sure ain’t no singer. Great performer though.

11 Ukraine
B: She’s taking the piss if she thinks we’ll believe lines like “Napevno, daremno / Bula ya nadto chemna” when she’s clad in leather and wielding a whip strong enough to crack a stage open.
A: I don’t begrudge Ukraine their victory for a moment but I’d rather they hadn’t won, to be honest. Still, you can’t deny the efficiency with which the song gets its point across. The arrangement makes it sound like Ruslana had the stage show worked out in advance.
V: What a draw for them! How better to top Sakis (as it were) than with something like this. Not sure it’s a winning song but it’s hands down the winning performance, with lighting and cameras working hand in hand with the choreography to produce something you really can’t take your eyes off. And that’s at least half your victory right there. The hugely energetic song helps, I suppose. Fantastic dancers. See, everybody*: act like a winner and you will very probably win.

*except Silvia Night

12 Lithuania
B: I love the eagerness to slip back into bad habits in “Yes, I’ve made mistakes before / Give [me] your hand, let’s go for more”.
A: As with most Lithuanian entries, there’s absolutely no pretence to this whatsoever. The high bit before the bridge is great. Cute arrangement which shows plenty of imagination, if not a lot of direction.
V: After Ukraine this just lacks any kind of oomph, and the daft clown show in the background simply doesn’t work. Simona looks like she tore the dress off Julie’s back. Even without the heels she’d be a good foot taller than spunk rat Linas. Awful sound mix.

13 Albania
B: Generally excellent English lyrics. Couldn’t agree more with “How strange the feeling in your soul / When love invades your very being”. (Mind you, she still sounds to me later like she’s singing “You’re in my ass / Beware my cock”. But that’s a matter of diction.)
A: The miracle they worked with this! The approach to the arrangement and instrumentation is a bit dated, but it still works. Besides, the song is carried by Anjeza’s voice and performance, and they’re winners.
V: Crowd support made a huge difference in 2004: it was so... vocal. Fab stage and lighting – best so far if you ask me. Anjeza looks damn cute and has a fine set of lungs on her. Great ending, too. How come it took them until 2009 to get the same idea again? (Later that same night...) Like the restyled hair, but the new dress makes her look a bit dumpy. The bespectacled backing vocalist looks extra cute in his school uniform.

14 Cyprus
B: There’s something pathetic about the story here that I like rather too much.
A: I’m still not convinced by Mike Conaris’ victory in the ‘amongst friends’ composer-of-the-year awards, but there is certainly something simple and heartfelt to it that works well with the lyrics, and Lisa’s delivery of them. It gets a bit sentimental at times with the tinkling bells and whirlpool of strings, but without stepping too far over the mark.
V: She’s sooooo cute!! The perfect example of how a performance can completely turn a song around. I’d written this off beforehand, but was won over with ease. It doesn’t even matter that she’s a bit off in places. In fact it just serves to make it seem even more genuine. I like the way she completely ignores the camera, even when it’s right in her face.

15 FYR Macedonia
B: “I search for a place where I’ll be free / From all that is said and all that’s been done / It’ll be hard to find it inside of me” – Macedonia really is the new Italy at Eurovision. “It’s true – you know it, don’t you?”
A: Waaaah... I want to have Toše’s babies. And the composer’s. And whoever remixed it’s. Just fabulous, and such symmetry between the music and lyrics. Shifting and sensuous and passionate and confessional and challenging... it’s all this and so much more.
V: Sounds like half of Macedonia was in the hall, too. Now this, as the Pet Shop Boys call it, is PopArt. Apart from the poor lad’s breakdown (which is itself artistically merited), I can’t praise it enough. Love the way he stares at his hand! Brilliant colour scheme. Toše looks like he should have a steed between his legs at the end. Odd in a ‘not-odd-just-random’ way that all five Balkan entries were among the last eight songs in the semi.

16 Slovenia
B: Love the irony of “What the rest of the world thinks doesn’t matter / Because we know it better”!
A: In its defence, I still sing along to this every time it comes on, and the harmonies are great. Unassuming, undemanding easy listening. Rubbish of course, but in a kind of good way. Like a few songs this year, it could have done with the BPM being cranked up.
V: The colours say it all really. Nice that they at least got to get married on the Bosphorus: their entire trip wasn’t wasted.

17 Estonia
B: You can give me lines like “Oroviir mõtsatii ülõ jõõ ülõ mää” any day.
A: It’s easy to overlook just how authentic a piece of Seto music this is, except of course they’d never have the drums. But does the fact that fat old ladies might be found singing its ilk on the Russian border make it any good? Actually I think it does. There’s a lot of power to it vocally, and Priit Pajusaar and Glen Pilvre’s arrangement is as lovely as ever. Outside of Estonia though it can’t help but tend towards novelty value rather than value per se.
V: It’s a sister act-off! Anu tries far too hard. Much as I like this, it just comes across a bit daft, doesn’t it? Peeter Jõgioja and his drums are the best thing about it. The girls’ vocals are good in their way.

18 Croatia
B: I much prefer this approach to the ass-shaking Greek routine. Is it a sign of age?
A: A real headphones song, this. You could drown yourself in that first minute; it’s like aural anaesthesia. The chorus renders it all slightly more pedestrian, but Ivan’s impassioned vocals always keep you listening. Still love the ending.
V: Glad he changed his suit. I would quite like to have done it for him. Beautifully measured performance, with some amazing background lighting on the screens.

19 Denmark
B: These lyrics ring very true.
A: I suppose if there’s one thing Eurovision teaches you it’s that Latino music done by anyone north of the Pyrenees gets nowhere. Which is not a criticism of this song as such; it’s well-produced, but unavoidably soulless. Full of good ideas though.
V: It’s all a bit red really. The competent and inevitably camp performance is nevertheless not terribly engaging, and the rollerblading shoes add nothing. Thomas, though, has fantastic shoulders. Great purchase in certain uphill pursuits, I imagine.

20 Serbia and Montenegro
B: I love the lines “Nađi nekog nalik meni / Da te barem ne volim”.
A: To go from Switzerland to this on the CD... day and night. Everything about it is lush, including Željko, and his voice. This has to be the richest composition of 2004 and of the entire contest in many years (and yet still Mike Conaris won?!?). Absolutely and utterly divine.
V: Terrific staging again. I should only ever listen to this though, because every time I watch it I am distracted by the fact that Željko’s wearing way too much make-up and has foolishly allowed himself to be persuaded to shave his chest. I love the way the performance is allowed to unfold visually at its own pace. Beautifully put together.

21 Bosnia and Herzegovina
B: Nice to see the Bosnians can maintain their lyrical economy even in English.
A: I’d forgotten how farty the synths sound in the studio version, but however unimaginative it may be, it works pretty well. Camp as a row of tents.
V: Now that’s one helluva mutant disco ball. I find Deen incredibly unattractive, especially since some of his female dancers are more masculine than he is. But he gets away with it somehow. Must be the insistent rhythm and effective choreography. And excellent direction accompanying it. I hadn’t noticed before that they all went pink in the final, as if it weren’t pink enough. Blue shoes though.

22 The Netherlands
B: Naff beyond words.
A: Still, two boys and a guitar did the business, at least until the final. It really shows how less than a handful of carefully chosen instruments, voice among them, can be a million times more effective than chucking everything into the mix and hoping at least some of it works.
V: Looking like you’re having fun is more than half the battle won. Stuck at the end of the semi it just works perfectly, especially right after Bosnia. The lads’ teeth are the most fluorescent things on the stage. Nice directorial touches, which the later Greek production tried (and failed) to emulate. Not sure about the grey stonewash denims.

23 Spain
B: Such evocative lyrics, as with so many Mediterranean romance-language entries: there’s that seemingly token mention of wheat again, and a whole cocktail of other references in “Su recuerdo sabe a sal y a hierbabuena”. I appreciate the fnaar-fnaar value of ‘her full moons’ and indeed of “Hoy me quedé vacío para llenarme de ti”!
A: Stands out a mile on the CD coming so soon after Denmark’s Play-Doh Latino number. It has no trouble sounding authentic or maintaining any richness in its composition, but bits of it – especially towards the end – sound like afterthoughts. Which indeed they are.
V: Hate the way he pretends to play the guitar for about two bars before it’s carried off by the game show hostess like some consolation prize. Not Ramon’s finest hour as a vocalist, beyond the verses. He leaves taking his clothes off (or at least looking like he’s about to) far too late. The choreography suits the song quite well though, and they certainly manage to fill up the stage.

24 Austria
B: “Du bist ein Wahnsinns-Optimist”.
A: It takes less than 10 seconds for this to make the hairs stand up on the back of my neck. It lacks any kind of sincerity. The vocals are horrible, even in the studio version. I simply cannot understand how the televoters of Austria thought they stood a chance with it.
V: Atrocious. At least you get to laugh at Switzerland. Two of the three lads are passably cute in my books, but even so...?

25 Norway
B: Individual aspects of these lyrics should irritate, but as a whole they just work.
A: Ah, my beloved Knut. I remember saying I saw only this and Sweden as potential winners. (We’ve got to err occasionally, I suppose.) In hindsight I can completely see why no one went for it, but it still works for me. Its problem is that the tune is there, in the chorus and bridge at least, but it’s not given the treatment it deserves. Sounds a lot slower than I recall, too. I want to wind it up so that it plays faster.
V: Fashion is clearly not one of Knut’s strong points. Good vocals, from both him and the backing. Is it a Scandinavian thing, do you think? The pictures help but this still drags. How sad.

26 France
B: “[Il y a] Tellement de ratures qu’il faudra effacer” is clever.
A: How rarely piano and strings fail. This sounds quite special and yet entirely radio-friendly at the same time. Not sure if the latter takes away from the former. Perhaps a little, as it seems to run out of steam in its efforts to sound the same throughout. The Spanish bit comes as a pleasant surprise, now that I hear it again.
V: Truly bizarre staging and imagery from France (or anyone for that matter). You can feel the audience urging the stilt-walking woman to fall flat on her arse. Jonathon looks like he’s just woken up. Great ‘ad libs’ by the excellent backing vocalists.

27 Germany
B: I love the lines “Don’t wanna talk about the way I am” (which has the same ring of truth to it as Jugarem A Estimar-Nos) and “The way you smiled has turned my life around”.
A: For every truly crappy entry, Germany still tends to come up with something pretty damn fine, don’t they? Stefan Raab certainly knew what he was doing here; sounds like it came ready-made for Max. Tremendous arrangement. The last minute or so is a little studio triumph.
V: Lovely stuff. The Turkish chorus is a great touch. Monobrow Max even outdoes the Dutch boys in the stonewashed look, and his breakdown is far more enjoyable to watch than Toše’s.

28 Belgium
B: Androgyny! Easy to see why the gays loved it. I hope she maintained the “I can hear what people say / It doesn’t matter anyway” line after the event.
A: Still has a fair kick to it. I suppose its problem, in retrospect, was that it always promised more than it ever delivered. Not through any fault of its own necessarily: what it does it does without any pretence. Great middle eight.
V: You can tell it’s a fan favourite by all the screaming coming from the front rows. Do you think people thought Xandee was a tranny? And yep, there’s that oddly off quality to her voice. It’s a good song, but does go on a bit.

29 Russia
B: Some good lines here like “You and I can talk, and I sound colder” are offset against some utter shite.
A: All I can think of when I listen to this is the crap preview video with those fucking flame-throwers. There are some OK ideas at work, but none of them are cooperating. You can see that in the lyrics as much as anywhere else (see above). The this-bit-then-this-bit arrangement goes precisely nowhere. And I quote: “Believe me, I just don’t care”.
V: Well, this exists in its own little world, doesn’t it. Bizarre. Julia comes very close to sounding very awful.

30 Iceland
B: I love the line “I lay down and cry, and the rivers are dry”.
A: Jonsi’s vocals are almost drowned out in places by the swirling orchestration. There’s nothing wrong with his voice, but I’d quite like to hear this as an instrumental. It would be fantastic under the National Symphony of Iceland. Bit faceless, all the same.
V: Jonsi had a supporting role in Eleven Men Out, an Icelandic film about a gay soccer team, and looked great in grass-stained, mud-spattered football shorts. Here he’s a bit too contrived, as is his performance.

31 Ireland
B: What does “that’s when I feel wholesome” mean? Does he feel like a box of Special K or something?
A: Oh eeeuuw, it’s the sucky studio version. What was it with Ireland doing new versions they never used? Then again, they probably realised what a load of pants they were. This one’s very ’80s rock anthem stylings are appalling. It served Ireland right that buoyed by Mickey Harte’s relative success they should go on to choose two of their worst ever entries under the same format. Not that the level of Irish entries any time recently has been very high.
V: This version’s just as naff. Wouldn’t half let Chris Doran kick-box me round the ring in his black belt though. Looks like he’d come ready-oiled, too. Lovely crow’s feet.

32 Poland
B: So much muchacha!
A: God, did it really sound like this? Feels like I’m listening to a song I’ve never heard. Wonderfully idle, and you’d never pick it coming from Poland. Puerto Rico, perhaps, but not Poland. Tatiana’s vocals are amazing. This comes into its own past the halfway mark but by then it’s a bit too late. And it’s too long.
V: Everyone’s outfits are awful. The comedy brass bandette doesn’t work. The bridge is great stuff though, and I admire them for doing their own thing with such conviction.

33 United Kingdom
B: If Mr Fox really does ‘feel so complete’ he should get together with Chris Doran to form the British Isles’ most nutritious breakfast. I’d give ’em a nosh.
A: This works for the same reasons many other songs would crash and burn: everything you might reasonably expect to happen does so. This of course also makes it feel not at all surprising or special. Nice vocals though.
V: Wrong place, wrong time, James. Too many middle-of-the-road male soloists for one contest. He looks a bit like a lady. Does quite a decent job, but then he did only have to stand there.

34 Turkey
B: “All I know is you don’t want to be part of the crowd...”
A: I had this as the alarm ring tone on my phone for a long time. I woke every morning to Athena-brand east-meets-west ska. Hooray! Suffice it to say that this is a triumph and one of the most inspired choices – arguably one of very few – that Turkey has ever made in Eurovision. Fucking brilliant ending.
V: Fantastic home entry. So much character.

35 Romania
B: Love the shameless desperation (“I’ll be your fool as long as you are mine”) and honesty (“It’s good to admit / That my heart starts to race when you walk through that door”) of it all.
A: The way the opening is structured makes you think we’re in for another Macedonia, but then the first chorus kicks in and you realise it’s much more straightforward. I like the way the arrangement continues to build, and the guitar’s great, and the bridge is good, but overall it lacks the pizzazz they nevertheless try and throw at it. It feels like the musical equivalent of treading water for the better part of three minutes.
V: Deserved winner of the Barbara Dex award, even amongst a fairly well contested bunch in 2004. Love the way one of the dancers (presumably unintentionally) fondles Sanda’s tits during the bridge.

36 Sweden
B: “The pain I feel inside / I’m clinging to my pillow” – she clearly isn’t aware that you’re supposed to be biting it.
A: Proper pop trash is clearly in the blood of all Swedes. This might not pretend to be anything else, but it’s no slouch. There’s plenty to like musically: the great hook in the chorus, and the bridge, which is exemplary. A truly fabbalous three minutes of schlager.
V: This performance has always struck me as a bit misguided and lazy, at least vocally, even though it’s clear that Lena Ph is an accomplished stage artist. Quite tongue-in-cheek though in places, which is a boon.

And so to the points…

1 point goes to Croatia

2 points go to Albania

3 points go to France

4 points go to Belarus

5 points go to Sweden

6 points go to Andorra

7 points go to Germany

8 points go to FYR Macedonia

10 points go to Turkey

and finally...

12 points go to...

Serbia and Montenegro!!!

Two wooden spoons are awarded for 2004 – not because the field is bigger, but because they are equally shit. Well done Austria and Switzerland! Proud neighbours.

2003

2010-03-04T03:01:00.000-08:00

http://www.diggiloo.net/?2003

Funny year this: when you look at it objectively, it’s a game of two halves musically and lyrically, with fewer gems and a higher pecentage of truly bad songs. But when you look at it subjectively, as a package, the whole thing just works. Somehow the good and the bad combine to make a year that is Eurovision in microcosm, and all the better for it.

01 Iceland
B: The fact that the lyrics here actually have something to say – albeit not as poetically as the original Icelandic ones – is proof that you can translate things and not make them banal in the process if you actually try.
A: Iceland never skimp, do they, even when they’re producing something essentially throwaway: this has layers of richness you only find in truly good pop songs, of which I’ve always thought this is a flawless example. Mind you, I know at least two people who hate it for that very reason, finding it unbelievably predictable.
V: Lovely performance, with a great ending. The music, lighting and direction gel perfectly.

02 Austria
B: Zany as this is, it does have a message, and it’s one I appreciate.
A: Having said that, I can leave it much more than take it as a piece of music, despite the fact that its subtleties are often overlooked and that its Jekyll & Hyde nature is quite appropriate.
V: A bit like Lithuania 2006, you have to admire the fact that this works so well on stage even if you don’t like it. As a piece of theatre it’s pretty much genius.

03 Ireland
B: I have my doubts that a lot of time and effort were spent penning these lyrics, but I like the lines “Ask me why / My feet never touch the ground / ... / You take my breath away”.
A: They didn’t go to a lot of trouble with the music either, if I’m honest. It’s effective, but there’s no getting round the fact that it sounds like something written for a finalist in a TV music contest.
V: God love Mickey Harte: what a babe. Ireland strikes back with something prodigiously uninspired but completely lovable and deserved its top ten placing if you ask me. News of Mickey’s dad’s death just prior to the contest had me rooting for him all the way, and I was sure towards the end that he was choking back the tears. Might have been an eyelash though. Loving the staging again.

04 Turkey
B: The banality of the chorus here – “I’ll cry slash I’ll die slash make you mine again” – is offset superbly by some spot-on lines like “You say you love me and you roll your eyes / Turn to stare at the empty skies”.
A: If ever countries like Andorra needed proof that you don’t have to sacrifice your virtue in order to be successful at Eurovision, they need look no further than this song. Especially since they’re prodigious remixers, which is what got this over the line. In fact the finesse with which whoever it was that played with this shaped it from nothing into something is astonishing: the version on the official CD pales in comparison to the version we got in Riga.
V: It’s no surprise Turkey won with this, their most ‘western’ entry in any number of ways, although the music, arrangement and presentation all scream ‘different culture’ in the best way possible. Triumphant performance, despite a few vocal wobbles, and a true benchmark for probably many years to come.

05 Malta
B: How many cliches does it take to change a lightbulb?
A: At least the remix was a vast improvement on the original (which it either completely is or completely isn’t with Malta). It’s the kind of thing that’s been coming second last in national finals the length and breadth of Europe for the better part of 50 years, so it was only fitting that it slotted neatly into 25th place in Riga.
V: Boring, overlong and flat as a tack. Lynn’s undoubtedly lovely, but there was little she could have done to make much of this. Great camerawork again though, and the backing vocals are good.

06 Bosnia and Herzegovina
B: It’s only taken me six years, but it’s nice to discover that “Sava Raka tika taka bija baja buf” actually means something. Nevertheless, I think I was justified in assuming it was a load of cobblers.
A: This is a perfect example of composers fucking up a good song for no discernible reason. The crash bang wallop strips it of character and of the sassy appeal that makes it the far more discotastic original version all the way for me. Oh, and the English version’s shit.
V: This sounds completely out of tune live and only comes together in the last 30 seconds or so – not coincidentally when it starts to sound more like the original. Such a shame. I had high hopes for it, but despite Mija’s huge vocal turn I really can’t stand the as-broadcast version.

07 Portugal
B: There’s more than a hint of poetry about that entire opening verse.
A: This is completely hopeless as a Eurovision entry anywhere this side of the mid-’90s, but I absolutely adore it. It presses all my big ballad buttons at once.
V: Our Rita gives a diva’s performance that brings me out in goosebumps every time. The lighting, staging and camerawork are also generally excellent, although I could pick the latter’s zooms and what have you well before they happened from knowledge of the kind of tricks director Marius Bratten went for. I love some of the little touches here, too, like the exaggerated breath on ‘levo arrrrrrrr’.

08 Croatia
B: “I tko si ti sada da mi sudiš?” They’re called the televoting hordes of Europe, love.
A: This song is brilliant… if you like that kind of Britney Spears/Backstreet Boys pre-programmed pop. I tend to, needless to say.
V: I’d assumed Ms Beni would be hopeless, but of course she’s not. Clever stage routine, helped by more great lighting. It loses it a bit when they collapse into English, but they bring it back together with that great ending of Claudia rolling her eyes, jumping (well, being lifted) into the arms of the hunky dancers* and giggling away.

*The one and only time Andrej Babić has stirred my interest. For me though it’s the quieter one. Always is, really.

09 Cyprus
B: Kudos to Stelio for performing a song he’d composed and written himself... but couldn’t he at least have made some effort where the lyrics were concerned? These must go down as some of the most trite and perfunctory in the history of the contest.
A: And I accused Malta of being too long. This dies after about two minutes (if it was ever, ahem, alive) but just goes on and on. The only musical thing I like is the guitar strumming through it.
V: At least we have Stelios to look at; the Cypriot postcard was the only one to elicit any sort of interest out of me once he got into his shorts. What is it with hairy-legged Greeks and football in Eurovision postcards? Of course there’s also the cheesy but pretty choreography to raise an eyebrow and smile at like all good gays should when presented with such.

10 Germany
B: Utter shite.
A: I can’t say I’ve ever liked this much, or found anything to redeem it musically or lyrically. But it seems to suit the occasion.
V: Why does Germany only do well with this kind of thing when they’re deliberately playing it up? It’s not like it’s that different to their entry of a year earlier, although I suppose it is much more of a party song. It’s a self-answering question anyway.

11 Russia
B: These lyrics remain... intriguing.
A: Here’s another remix that does very little for me when the original was so fresh and strong. It has some fabulous synths though, and stands out a mile from everything else. And in fact is as well produced as any other Russian entry you might care to name. Well, maybe not Believe Me, which is a bit shit.
V: Cue pantomime villains! I’d been cynical about them representing Russia, but when I heard the song I relented. Then they made a pig’s arse of it and that was that. A truly awful vocal performance from the red-haired one, which is no surprise really: she can’t sing. The performance as a whole is lazy. I was gobsmacked when I first saw it and appalled that they were so well rewarded for it. Excellent lighting though.

12 Spain
B: Lyrics: love ’em. Especially the lines “No permitas que el orgullo sea / Quien decida por los dos”, which must be the death knell of many a relationship.
A: Gotta love a bit of high energy Spanish dance music! It has the advantage over We’ve Got The World of not sounding like it was written especially for some reality show winner, albeit probably only because it’s so generic within its, er, genre.
V: Beth sounds surprisingly weak in places and the routine does come across as ‘taught’ rather than ‘taut’, but the music gets me every time. The backing vocalist with the magenta hair has always shitted me for some reason.

13 Israel
B: “Ken, ani kaze romantikan!” Dyed-in-the-wool old poof, more like.
A: If you take this for what it is, it’s pretty good. It always makes me smile and sing along, anyway. It’s not entirely unaccomplished as a piece of music either, just a bit been there, done that. About 50 years ago.
V: Upbeat and vocally very good, but a bit too Benny Hill.

14 The Netherlands
B: Some great couplets here, the best one perhaps being “You’ll never rise above / Being with the one you love”.
A: In terms of composition this is another sterling Dutch entry, with a beginning, a middle, an end and room to spare all inside of three minutes. Anyone who looks down on pop should listen to this and be forced to concede the quality it both demands and produces.
V: Some heathens find this performance questionable: I love it. Even my brother, something of a Eurovision sceptic, was won over when we were watching it. Vocally perfect, beautifully lit and shot... it’s just so good. Poor Esther. I adore her, especially when she’s this catchy.

15 United Kingdom
B: “I need a love that is strong and tough / ... / I need a love that is big enough” – yes, I think we know what they’re looking for, and that they’re both probably looking for it in the same place. Actually, in their way, these lyrics sit together very well.
A: Nothing wrong with this. It’s inventive and clever in ways you don’t expect it to be.
V: Very slick routine. Gemma is in fact perfectly in tune, just in the wrong key. At least it’s not simply a case of her being unable to sing, as per, say, half of Tatu. Chris is irritating, but I love the way he’s the first person in fifteen songs to invoke the audience. God knows they needed to. I also love the way you have the Macy Grey backing vocalist offset by two who look like newsreaders.

16 Ukraine
B: “You are so wrong” indeed.
A: Better than the actual Israeli entry. Great piano.
V: I still can’t get over the eye-shadow. This makes for a peculiar debut when you think about it; none of their entries since has been anything like the last, or the others. In the end I think it’s all a bit too frenetic (and static!) and threateningly delivered for its own good.

17 Greece
B: It’s like an Enid Blyton book this: innuendo ahoy if you know what you’re looking for.
A: Greece and the electric guitar – they’re like Siamese twins who share a vital organ, never to be separated. The arrangement otherwise borders on the delightful, and is quite powerful in places, offsetting the gentler moments. Still a bit meh though, all told.
V: Well thought-out direction here. Mando gives another superior vocal performance, but ¡aye bazumbas! what a porny delivery. As we were watching it I added “...daddy!” to her final “yeah...” and it just seemed so appropriate.

18 Norway
B: It’s so easy to overlook the fact that these lyrics are utter nonsense.
A: Simple piano-driven ballad done very well. I say piano-driven, but the percussion, acoustics and strings are integral to its success. From the bridge onwards it’s perfect.
V: Jostein is cute in an untouchable kind of way, like he belonged in the kindergarten he taught at, so I’m not surprised he did well for himself. Mind you, he’s helped by yet more brilliant lighting and staging.

19 France
B: Wonderful lyrics, these. I’m sure we’ve all been there --> “Je sais qu’il faudrait ne plus en parler / Au moins essayer un peu d’oublier” --> before.
A: There’s so much to like about this, as per the majority of French ballads. The arrangement is superb.
V: Louisa gives a strangely static, almost cold performance, as if her feet are nailed to the floor (at least until the final bridge), so I was not shocked to see it fare so modestly. Not to mention the hair thing. Stunning, all the same, as songs go.

20 Poland
B: Who am I to argue with “Każdy z nas powinien dotrzeć tam”?
A: Ah, back in the day when three minutes of them was just enough. Solid anthem this, probably deserving of its relative success. The chorus lets the side down for me, though: it’s tacky and overly sentimental.
V: The costumes are to die for.

21 Latvia
B: Another set of completely dopey lyrics here.
A: I’ve always thought this kind of sucks; it’s decent enough, but nothing special, particularly when there were much better songs in the national final. That said, the chorus is quite catchy.
V: What a fucking annoying voice Mārtiņš Freimanis has. Despite everything, I was surprised this did as catastrophically badly as it did for the host country.

22 Belgium
B: I still haven’t made up my mind as to whether the imaginary language thing was a stroke of genius or just silly.
A: Not that it matters much in the end, as it’s the music you focus on, and it’s really rather wonderful. It feels just right in its allotted timeframe.
V: I was so pleased something like this was still able to do well at Eurovision.

23 Estonia
B: “Everybody’s wearing their hair / The way you did fifteen years ago / And it makes you wanna cry” are some of the most brilliant lyrics in a Eurovision entry ever.
A: Brilliant everything, really. The class and cohesion it displays is astounding.
V: How well this might have done if it had all been juries. I’ve never understood why so many people loathe this with such a vengeance when it was (and remains) one of the most original, highest quality entries in the contest in years. I suppose you just love it or you don’t.

24 Romania
B: Nicola needs to work on her conditional clauses.
A: Romania finally get a bit trash-savvy. What a turnaround from 2002! Nicola’s voice borders on the unpleasant for me, but still manages to work in this song, which was always a blatant rip-off of that Selecta! thing, whatever it was called. Well done though.
V: Priceless!

25 Sweden
B: “It’s plain to see that you can rescue me” sounds good, but looks crap, and given it’s the highlight of these lyrics it doesn’t say much for the rest of the song.
A: I was predisposed to scorn this just because Alcazar hadn’t won, but needless to say it’s Swedishly reliable. The arrangement plays to its own strengths and delivers the goods as it does so almost effortlessly.
V: No one puts a foot wrong here. It’s helped by being song #25, but it has more going for it than that: perfect backing vocals, as usual, and simple but effective choreography. And yet... perhaps it’s all a little bit too polished.

26 Slovenia
B: The twist in the chorus is quite a neat touch in an otherwise by-numbers set of lyrics.
A: Rubbish, obviously.
V: Slovenian Barbie indeed: cheap and oh so plastic. I was spitting chips that neither Poglej Me V Oči nor Prvič In Zadnjič had won, so looked forward to its inevitable demise. Can you believe they had this at third in the betting at 8:1 to win after the final dress rehearsal? It’s vocally good but just far too pink, and that’s despite the odd hairy men standing to one side.

And so to the points...

1 point goes to Russia

2 points go to Spain

3 points go to Portugal

4 points go to Norway

5 points go to Iceland

6 points go to Turkey

7 points go to Belgium

8 points go to France

10 points go to the Netherlands

and finally…

12 points go to...

Estonia!!!

Matching wooden spoons are awarded to Malta and Cyprus.

2002

2010-03-04T02:19:00.000-08:00

http://www.diggiloo.net/?2002

It’s funny how proprietorial I get about this contest – it almost exists in a separate little world of its own for me. I find it very hard to view it objectively, albeit not in terms of the songs.

01 Cyprus
B: Well, the English version’s better than the Greek one.
A: Decent enough song, which they completely failed to repeat a year later. Goes on a bit.
V: Shouty, bug-eyed performance that comes across too mechanically to be alluring. They look (and act) like the cast of some Cypriot gay drama.

02 United Kingdom
B: The play on words in “What can I say / That will make up for letting you down” is good.
A: Probably the best British entry of the last 10 years. It’s an acoustic treat. It’s interesting that when you place them side by side, there’s not much separating this and Hold On To Our Love, but the gulf between them in terms of what works and what doesn’t is huge. I’m glad they rejigged the ending to give it more oomph, even if the original downplayed version was more in tune with the lyrics.
V: Charmingly performed, with lots of passion, if a little wonkily in places. The backing vocals are brilliant. Why’s it so hard for the UK to come up with something like this every year? Love the amber/honeycomb backdrop it’s given, and the shredded cowgirl look is so right.

03 Austria
B: Why do I suspect that “If you feel like losin’ your pride, I’ll be there to give you a place where to hide” would translate directly, and perfectly, into German? The chorus is spectacularly bad, given that there are a million words that rhyme with ‘there’ apart from ‘care’.
A: This suits Manuel’s voice down to the ground. I’ve always loved the bassline driving it along, and the bridge and key change are perfect.
V: Ooh ’e were goooorgeous! to quote Little Britain. Doesn’t only look about 5’5”, does he? Pity about the missed note in the second verse. This sounds fantastic live with the bass booming.

Claim to fame #1 – The big reveal of the backing vocalists was my idea. The daft Austrians were just going to have them standing there like numpties.

04 Greece
B: Say!
A: In three minutes this manages to bring together everything that was wrong with so much about Greece at Eurovision before they finally got a clue. And why can’t Greek Eurovision artists pronounce /æ/? Constantinos couldn’t and neither can Michalis.
V: Mr Rakintzis has something in his eye, clearly. This is the ESC equivalent of a behind-the-sofa moment: a total disaster from start to finish. Off-key and (ironically) lacking any kind of energy. On the plus side, the colour scheme’s nice, the guitarist at the back is hot, and the whole thing’s good for a laugh.

05 Spain
B: I still don’t really get the point of this. Were we all supposed to be excited about the arrival of the euro? Perhaps it should have been called The European Central Bank’s Living A Celebration. The deluded expectations with which the Spanish delegation entered the competition with this are neatly summed up in the line “Y nace en mí una ilusión”.
A: Another one I preferred before they remixed it*, but the music’s pretty together for something so trashy, and it’s perfect Eurovision fodder. The little boop-boop thing in the background gets on my tits though.
V: Everyone was on tenterhooks as to whether Rosha would manage this, but I thought she did a good job. The backing lot look like they’re working out to a boxercise video for most of it. The final broadcast was the first time that the one in the middle that’s not Gisela actually managed to get the choreography right. It was hardly that challenging.

Claim to fame #2 – I suggested Frankenstein as the most appropriate postcard for the juggernaut that was the Rosa press machine ;-)

06 Croatia
B: It’s nice to see that the ‘incomplete and insecure’ girl Vesna’s left behind has transformed into a cat-o’-nine-tails-wielding temptress with a withering come-hither expression and a love that is so real it very probably leaves you scarred for life.
A: *Ditto here, although they basically turned this into a different song, so I suppose that makes it OK. As remakes go it probably takes the best bits of the original and improves on them. The guitars are great, again, but it loses focus after a while.
V: Around the time of the Playboy interlude, in fact. I’m always amazed that there’s virtually no trace of an accent on any of the singers.

07 Russia
B: Generally good.
A: Well-produced, as with most Russian entries, but it tries a little bit too hard to pass itself off as something other than the pop confection it so obviously is.
V: Lovely backdrop. The delegation were fuming that this didn’t do better and looking for excuses everywhere but where they should: the performance, by and large, is a mess. The sound mix doesn’t help, but still.

Not a claim to fame #1 – No coincidence that ‘freedom’ was chosen as the postcard for this!

08 Estonia
B: As ever with a set of Jana Hallas lyrics, I haven’t got a clue what they mean.
A: Originality in abundance (…not) but it gets it over the line. Which tells you something about the quality of the rest of the field in Eurolaul that year, given that this version is many magnitudes better than the original. The jury must have seen its europotential, which brooks no argument.
V: I was fuming about the sound mix on this. Still, it’s an assured [Swedish] performance of a by-the-book [Estonian] pop song and works perfectly. From the key change to the final note it is sublime, and it must qualify as one of the most feel-good home entries from the off. The atmosphere’s brilliant, and it’s a real testament to the way Sahlene won everyone over before the contest that we all adopted her as one of our own. Says he.

09 FYR Macedonia
B: Sheer poetry, in Macedonian and in English.
A: Brilliant, although it too benefitted enormously from the remix. It’s probably the first Macedonian entry to truly showcase the country’s talent for complex backing vocals which are invaluable to the overall feel and effect of the entry.
V: Live, Karolina’s a bit like Shiri Maymon in constantly being almost but not quite off-key. But when this hits its stride there’s no stopping it: it just works.

10 Israel
B: I sympathise fully with the sentiment that “Lif’amim nidme she’en tikva” when it comes to Israeli Eurovision entries.
A: Beautiful strings, but Israel can go light a candle under its sanctimonious arse.
V: “No, not THAT camera angle! The nose, the nose!” Nice outfit. Good hair, too.

11 Switzerland
B: Pretty lyrics. It’s interesting, for want of a better word, that Francine betrayed her German roots (boom tish) in the original version of the song by mispronouncing ‘Éden’ in French.
A: The two slowest students in the class sharing a desk at the back. The composition is delightful, but Francine, charming little pixie though she was, comes across as aphid killer at times with a voice that is simply too shrill.
V: And she has sweaty armpits! The organic feel to the backdrop here made this by far my favourite staging of the night.

12 Sweden
B: “Forgettin’ all the words of advice” probably wasn’t a good move for them, in hindsight.
A: This is as reliable as most Swedish pop – without actually sounding essentially Swedish for a change, just retro – and again brings the orchestra to the disco very successfully.
V: How did it all go so wrong? Perhaps it was just too overbaked. Descends very quickly into a mess of screaming and shouting.

13 Finland
B: There’s nothing special about the lines “When you’re far away [I] fantasize / That you’re in my arms and I jump when I hear the phone” per se, but they sound great in context.
A: The ad break strikes again? One too many ’70s numbers in a row? Whatever the reason, I’m blinkered to its shortcomings as a song. Finland really thought they were on to something here and I thought they were, too. Its use of three minutes is as economical as anything the Netherlands might come up with.
V: Maybe it just works better in studio, when it’s not quite so brash and garish in its presentation. And to be honest, she is quite slappable.

14 Denmark
B: There’s a wonderful sense of impending doom in that opening verse. It’s that whole thing about quicksilver: if you hold onto it too tightly, it shoots out of your hand; if don’t hold onto it tightly enough, it slips through your fingers.
A: On CD this is really rather stunning.
V: On stage, its grown-up richness just isn’t in evidence. Perhaps it was never going to translate. For someone who was in hair, make-up and wardrobe for an hour, Mahlene looks like she just crawled out of bed and threw on whatever she stepped over in the process.

15 Bosnia and Herzegovina
B: I’d love to see lines like “Ja imam ono što se zove srce” get the whole LaMaja treatment, all pursed lips and uh-uhs and Ru Paul hair. The finger waggling and black diva head wobble seem unfairly constrained in a BiH context.
A: Aah, Bosnia. Not a hope in hell, but given literally where it’s coming from I can understand why it won them over. It won me over, all synthesisers and sassiness.
V: The three backing vocalists have the best frocks (if not dance moves) of the night. Maja looks like she just stepped out of the kitchen of the Chinese restaurant she works at. Pregnant or not, they could have softened her up a bit, given how strong she comes across vocally.

16 Belgium
B: There’s something almost misogynistic about these lyrics that I don’t like.
A: Pushing a song on the basis of it needing to stand out between Bosnia and France proved somewhat flawed as an approach, however much it does actually stand out. And indeed however good it might be. It comes together very well by the key change. Very Belgian though.
V: Sergio’s a bit of a twat, isn’t he. Talk about mid-life crisis.

17 France
B: The epitome of rousing.
A: This is French balladry at its best, even if it’s actually an anthem. Same difference. If it was in Hebrew I’d probably scorn it, but France does it superbly. Sandrine is the perfect choice as vocalist, fragile and vociferous in turn.
V: Voice of the contest, despite the wobble in the first verse. I actually prefer the abridged version to the original.

18 Germany
B: As cheesy as songs about how much people love music are, everything rolls along here perfectly harmlessly – until the bridge, when Ralph & Berndt can’t stop themselves and go off on a peace tangent that sees you reaching for the sickbag almost instantly.
A: Insert tasteless but nevertheless amusing remark about Germany being blind to the fact that they had another stinker on their hands. Colouring book pop that not even the stabbing, swirling strings can save.
V: This made sense in Deutschland, but when it hit the bigger European stage its failings were only too visible. The backing vocalists are super annoying, and not very good; Corinna’s got a strong voice. She’s also enormous, so I’m not sure the Gestapo overcoat was a good idea.

19 Turkey
B: I love the fact that two of the people behind this song are called Fani and Figen, and it’s lucky the poor sod Buket’s pleading with is a fan of lilacs rather than, say, market gardening – a title like ‘Carrots Decomposed In Your Heart’ (Havuçlar Bozdu Kalbinde?) wouldn’t have been good for much. “Mutsuzum, suskunum, durgunum / Yorgunum sensiz ben” was the favourite couplet of everyone in the OB van: they sang along to it every time. Which is to say twice.
A: Only the second entry out of basically 20 with some true national flavour. At first I railed against the lack of identifiable structure but I’ve since come to love it. Well alright, I always loved it. The opening pan across the woodwind and acoustics is magical. And then we get some strings. Turkish scene-setting is rarely this accomplished.
V: Buket tries hard to look like she’s having fun but her voice tells us otherwise. The sound mix is awful. Hilariously crap choreography, and the bits in English are even more stilted here than they are in the studio version.

20 Malta
B: These lyrics – while teetering on the edge of a sugary chasm – work well enough. Bit heavy on the 7s maybe.
A: Sure makes the most of its three minutes, and then some.
V: Another Maltese entry I had written off before the final, to my shame. Ira’s voice and demeanour suit it perfectly. And her pants are fabulous.

Claim to fame #3 – I recommended to director Marius Bratten that the camera pull in tight on Ira so as not to spoil the surprise of the glitter thing. They never quite managed it, but still.

21 Romania
B: As an opening line, “We’re behaving like two strangers in the gloomy night” makes it sound like this is going to be an ode to cottaging.
A: Unbendingly old-fashioned, but the tarting up they gave it makes it work. The guitar almost sounds like it’s being played by someone in the same room as you, and by the end the whole thing is making perfect sense.
V: Second vocal powerhouse. And scratch what I said about Switzerland: this is my favourite backdrop. (More or less the same colour scheme, so no surprise there.)

22 Slovenia
B: It’s easy to smile at lines like “Ko me gledaš, vidiš to kar si” given the mirror you’re looking into, but there’s no disguising the fact that this is as solid and positive an anthem as any Eurovision has given us.
A: This was my ex’s very man’s-man dad’s favourite, and who can blame him: it’s an overlooked, oh so slick little triumph – visually, musically and lyrically.
V: Bad sound mix again live. The vocal effects are a great touch, as is the choreography, and the outfits. They’re like a really bad drag act that’s entertaining for all the right reasons. No, they are a really bad drag act who are entertaining for all the right reasons!

Claim to fame #4 – Guess who suggested that Sestre be trailed by ‘so many beautiful women’? ;-)

23 Latvia
B: Load-o-bollocks, but still an improvement on the original.
A: This is perhaps the worst song ever to have won the contest.
V: That said, the performance is genius.

24 Lithuania
B: Tsk, Mr Stepukonis should have listened to his grandmother: red sky in the morning is the shepherd’s warning. He can hope all he wants that the day will never end, but when it’s marked out by an omen like that, you know there’s going to be tears before bedtime.
A: Bright, breezy and slightly kooky in that way that so many Lithuanian things are. There were some great, simple touches given to the final version that lifted it way above the hardly different but much harder to take original. As it stands it’s 100% inoffensive but still rather... superfluous to needs.
V: Knitted tops!

And so to the points…

1 point goes to Finland

2 points go to Denmark

3 points go to Estonia

4 points go to Croatia

5 points go to Slovenia

6 points go to Romania

7 points go to the United Kingdom

8 points go to Turkey

10 points go to France

and finally...

12 points go to...

FYR Macedonia!!

The wooden spoon goes to Greece.

2001

2010-03-04T01:48:00.000-08:00

http://www.diggiloo.net/?2001

A Way Too Much Space Oddity

It struck me before tackling 2001 that it’s quite similar in structure and feel to 2006, with a pretty slow, low-scoring opening slew before things take off in the mid-section and the energy cranks up and up right to the end. It’s also a contest (not continuing the comparison here, mind you) in which what is wrong is clearly wrong and what is right would be hard to get any righter. The V: comments include those I made at the time from being there. (And looking back on them now, I must have been on a high from the event, because some of them are inexplicable.)

01 The Netherlands
B: It may be a very Dutch way of thinking, but “I never felt so free in the choices of my life” remains my favourite line. Disastrous sepia portrait in the CD booklet.
A: Stunning string intro, followed immediately by a little acoustic masterpiece. Very Beautiful Thing. If anything the vocals here are a little forceful. This strikes me as something juries would have wet themselves over and veritably chucked points at.
V: Abrupt opening. Brave to go with such a structured and yet static performance. Is anyone even watching? I seem to remember not. Sounds quite flat in places.

02 Iceland
B: “I was just a jerker...” Were you now?
A: Super bland – something I never fully realised at the time. Good harmonies though, and the lads’ voices offset each other nicely. Well-structured, too, in a very pop-school-graduate kind of way. Ironically it only spreads its wings and takes flight in the last 20 or so seconds.
V: This just doesn’t work, does it, in front of the cameras? Terrible direction on the line “now I see you closing in” from the final bridge, pulling the camera back like that.

03 Bosnia and Herzegovina
B: The lyrics are of course completely depressing (“I da ti u lice kažem ono šta hoću / Ti ne bi brinula”) but also delightful, and somehow arousing.*
A: The minimalist production is spot on and impossibly rich. I can only assume it too would have fared better under other (older) circumstances.
V: *Something to do with Nino Pršeš effortlessly oozing sex appeal, perhaps. No one’s listening to this either. I marked it down originally (along with the Netherlands) as “instantly forgettable”. His voice in the verses though is positively magnetic. Diction overload on the English bits.

04 Norway
B: The lines “I’m on my own again / Left all alone, where I belong” seem very harsh. Note that they changed the original lyrics after that – “I wouldn’t change a day when curtains fall” – for the live version, as if those few words alone were taking the theatricality of it all too far.
A: Everything about this guy screams wrongness, except his voice, which screams beautifully. I love the way this and the Netherlands are superficially so similar and yet so different at the same time. It’s clearly a case of the voice winning it for the song rather than the song standing out (hello Glennis Grace) and it’s all a trifle dull.
V: He’s way scarier than anyone intends. Awful outfit. Bet he could (and does) fit a lot in that mouth. The vocal fireworks deservedly got the audience going, briefly, which led me to believe at the time that it may have the same effect on the voting hordes (whores?) of Europe.

05 Israel
B: The theme here is 100% Israeli (“Or vakhoshekh nilkhamim aleynu akhshav”)…
A: …but the production has always struck me as being a bit of a departure for them; I don’t know why, and I’m probably wrong. Quite a successful one in any case, although it could do without the (synth?) horns. The little rumba/samba/whatever break at the end is terrific. I loved this as soon as I heard it – well, that’s a bit of a lie: it took a while to grow on me, but it was the first song from 2001 that I heard – and I still like it, but it was sabotaged on the night by…
V: …a spectacularly awful performance. The shrill backing vocals are a disaster from the word go; one of them is so far off it’s embarrassing. “Im ko’ev lakh, shtey enaikh dom’ot” – there’s no ‘if’ about it!

06 Russia
B: I love the lines “The slipping serpentine night / Would... / ...smother warning signs / My old mistakes should send her”.
A: Funny how Russia thought this was the obvious thing to follow up the success of Solo with. Completely bonkers. Very David Bowie, from what little I know of his music. I’m constantly surprised at how authentic and accomplished it sounds, although why it shouldn’t I have no idea.
V: Despite Ilya’s weird voice, he’s the first one to actually sound real to me in a way. Such an odd start to the contest to this point: it’s like some warm-up act you’re not expected to take much notice of.

07 Sweden
B: “Wou je mij verslinden / Zonder je te binden?” are my favourite lines, albeit from Liefde Is Een Kaartspel.
A: The first case of obvious plagiarism in 2001, but the only one punished for it. They picked right though, giving Friends a killer hook to work with when backed by the full Swedish production. Having said that, it’s a wonder the DAT copies ever made it past the sniffer dogs: complete cheese.
V: I like the look here from the blonde one when the backing vocalist fluffs her lines during the first chorus. Overall it sounds, and looks, rather forced, but the crowd lapped it up. I hate the way they’re so mechanical at the end about lining everyone up for their bow at the front of the stage as quickly as they can before the cameras cut to something else. I love the fact they don’t manage it.

Addendum: Aren’t the hosts dreadful? I just noticed again. It’s only really in the voting when they come into their own, at long last.

08 Lithuania
B: Clever touches to the lyrics (especially in the Lithuanian interlude, where I love the flow and sound of the line “Aš skaičiuoju keikvieną tavo žingsnį, žingsnį”).
A: Clever touches to the music as well, and Erica Jennings has my kind of voice, but I’ll admit the point does become a bit laboured towards the end. Lithuania were a bit premature sending something like this in 2001: it probably would have done better a few years later.
V: Why were flares so big in 2001? That’s 4 pairs I count so far – 6 if you add the Israeli backing vocalists’ and 7 with both Skamp lads. This is another very real-sounding performance. Completely unpretentious.

09 Latvia
B: I love the paredness of the lines “Why do I feel this way? – Dunno, last night was great / But something’s screwin’ me up, I swear to God I will stop”. If poor Arnis has to keep asking the ladies “Why, darling, you don’t come?” he really ought to start looking at his own technique.
A: Talk about odd choices, and yet this seems so completely Latvian to me I would probably have been disappointed had they chosen anything else. Too much nuttiness though straight after Lithuania, methinks, however much fun it offers. If you’re in the right mood.
V: With this, Russia and Lithuania, what impression do you think the audience got of the mental health of people from the former Soviet Union? At the time I said this performance was ‘excellent’. Was I watching something else?

10 Croatia
B: Didn’t spend long writing the lyrics to this, did they? Yet another hideous snap in the CD booklet: one of many in 2001. (Did Lindsay Dracass suffer from some debilitating childhood illness to leave her with such deformed legs?)
A: You can stick this on the same pile as Norway 2004 for songs I was convinced pre-contest had everything they needed to win. When one of my friends complained that it was too ‘busy’ I just couldn’t see it. I kind of get it now, but still adore it. Strangely, the studio version is very poorly edited. Fab ending to both versions.
V: She looks stunning. Shouldn’t the fiddler have been a man?

11 Portugal
B: If “...procuro o teu mar / É a tua ilha que eu quero encontrar” is anything to go by, seems these two share similar problems to Arnis Mednis.
A: Is this the first example of a song being reworked from uptempo to no-tempo for the contest rather than the other way round? I was dumbfounded to discover they’d done so, and seemingly so late in the day, especially when the original version had much more potential. (A relative term when it comes to Portugal, but still.) I like it though, for all that: the lyrics just flow out and there’s a sense of easy comfort about it all I just love. But to choose this after being relegated in ’99 with Como Tudo Começou… What were they thinking?
V: Lovely performance, but it still feels like the show hasn’t actually started.

12 Ireland
B: “No, I can’t go on.”
A: They have a processed sausage here in Estonia that already comes with cheese shot through it. This song is without doubt its musical equivalent, and surely Ireland’s least respectable entry ever. A definite contender for the overall wooden spoon award for worst Eurovision song in the contest’s 50+ year history if you ask me.
V: Thingy looks a bit like a goofy science teacher. That cuteness is these three minutes’ only redeeming feature.

13 Spain
B: Come on: “todo es mentira” is an understatement. Leather pants? Ha!
A: The first version I heard of this was the longer live version from their national final that had the bass turned up to maximum. I fell for it instantly. Listening to it again now it’s not nearly as brilliant as I thought it was, but it doesn’t do a lot wrong really either for a Spanish entry. Great guitar, needless to say. Bit of a trendsetter when you think about it, too.
V: Finally the audience has woken up a bit. Stelios Konstantas borrowed these dancers for Cyprus ’03, didn’t he?

Addendum: The trophy gag is pretty much the only thing that works all night for the hosts.

14 France
B: I love the rhyming couplet of “Même si tu dis que je fais partie de toi / ... / Je sais tellement que l’amour a ses lois”. And I can certainly identify with “mon corps... s’enflamme au son de ta voix”.
A: Many people are not as taken with this as others are, but to me it epitomises the best of French Eurovision. The arrangement is stunning, and deceptively simple. I can fully understand why Terry Wogan thought this would at long last return the contest to Paris.
V: She’s not too good at keeping track of the cameras, is she? Bit toothy towards the end. I jumped up and down when she’d done belting this out, but nobody else seemed much bothered.

15 Turkey
B: “Kollarım açık beklerken, sevgim yollarda” – any excuse for an anonymous sausage sandwich on the heath.
A: This is the Disney theme that never was. You can just see the animated princess sashaying across the screen in some epic Persian fairytale to this, with the dishy Sedat as her hirsute prince. It’s really quite lovely, and sad, but completely hopeless and OTT at the same time. Which I’ve always liked. Wonderful ending.
V: Positively archaic, but Sedat looks well tasty. Tired, but well tasty.

16 United Kingdom
B: ‘Reaching for eternity’ could be a metaphor for that final note.
A: I love the way all the clubby numbers are clumped at the end, even if I’ve never much liked this: it seems oddly dated, even for 2001. Interesting structure though, and Lindsay has the right voice for it... when she hits the notes she’s supposed to. Tries a bit too hard though for my liking (the song, I mean).
V: No, I don’t think so. Mind you, the chorus sounds pretty good. The last note still gives me palpitations; does her, too, obviously. She got it so devastatingly wrong in the last dress rehearsal that the song finished and almost no one clapped.

17 Slovenia
B: Is that a stunt double in Nuša’s photoshoot for the CD booklet? Looks nothing like her. Talk about “My whole life is one big fantasy”.
A: This is so expletingly good. Absolute trash, but pulled off with such bombastic aplomb that you’d swear it was a musical masterpiece. (Easily the best video of the year, too. Exploding pianos!)
V: Poor dear: her nose always looks broken. Probably from all the surgery. Strange outfit. But finally, some performance! Direction and lighting are working in unison with the music at last, and she’s about the only one you see smile, too.

18 Poland
B: Great lyrics. I love the realism of the lines “I would never want to be with someone like me / But maybe one more night could make us feel alright / What difference does it make?” and “I know the honesty within is nothing when you’re cryin’”.
A: The aforementioned second big (undiscovered) rip-off of the contest if you ask me. They had the right idea with this as a comeback; not quite as right as Slovenia perhaps, but certainly much more than Portugal. Bit modest though when you look at it.
V: Piasek is really rather shaggable, and the enormous black-clad backing vocalists are a terrific touch. Overwhelming sense of the song going nowhere though. ‘How long is too long’ indeed.

19 Germany
B: What does “Sometimes love’s a glant / A warm but brave romant” mean? Is -ce pronounced -t in German?
A: I thought her voice was a joke at first; I am clearly the only one who finds it almost insurmountably odd. Granted, she has a pretty strong song behind her, featuring some lovely orchestration and great guitar, but it still makes me frown in bemusement. I’ll do my best to get past it. The shorter live version has always come across to me as a bit denuded, so at least they retained that tremendous signposting of the final chorus.
V: She looks great, too. Love the regal wave at the beginning. Where are the backing vocalists hidden?

20 Estonia
B: “I guess this is party time.”
A: My first ever Eurolaul was won by what was to me the only possible song that could have. I should have trusted my instincts come the actual contest. By then the initial feel-good thrill had dissipated and I’d decided it had little hope of faring well at all. I likely paid too much heed to the majority of fans who dismissed it out of hand. Still, it clearly had something Europe liked. It’s no work of musical genius, as Ivar Must himself has said, but it’s nowhere near the disaster most people paint it as. It strikes me as strange that people put this in the same basket as I Wanna for unworthy winners. They’ve got next to nothing in common.
V: See, they engage the audience at home and in the hall. Winning combo. Easily the most upbeat and accessible thing on offer. I suppose this was half a win for the Netherlands, too. Or at least Aruba.

21 Malta
B: “I’m sure you understand all this is magic” might be overstating it a bit.
A: In retrospect, that’s twice Fabrizio has had his knobs fiddled with and ended up with a final version that’s not as good as the original. This remains streaks ahead of I Do, all the same. Doesn’t try very hard, but what it does come up with is decent enough. Terribly Maltese, if that’s a good thing.
V: God, what a sight. The girls’ outfits are bizarre. Vocally pretty good though.

22 Greece
B: Nice rhythm to the lyrics, in both languages.
A: Very hard to achieve any distance with this, the most enduring of the 2001 entries. Oh, what the hell: it’s fan-fuckin’-tastic. Greek and European!
V: Helena is very Eva Longoria here, albeit Eva Longoria after a bout of some mystery illness. Should have won.

23 Denmark
B: The way this flows in English is much more appropriate to the song than the smash-and-grab word-fest of the Danish version.
A: This is arguably the best of what the Danes do, er, best, and I wouldn’t have been at all disappointed to see it bring them back-to-back victories. It’s just so perfectly pitched – for Western Europe at least. There’s so much going on in the arrangement when you listen to it.
V: Actually, this should have won. Love the “yeah!” bit near the end. Finally it feels like a proper contest... between about half a dozen songs.

And so to the points…

1 point goes to Estonia

2 points go to Germany

3 points go to Croatia

4 points go to the Netherlands

5 points go to Bosnia and Herzegovina

6 points go to Russia

7 points go to Denmark

8 points go to France

10 points go to Greece

and finally...

12 points go to...

Slovenia!!!

The wooden spoon, needless to say, goes to Ireland.

2000

2010-03-04T01:20:00.000-08:00

http://www.diggiloo.net/?2000

As pretentious as it sounds to say it, this contest represents the renaissance of Eurovision.

01 Israel
B: Putting the lines together thus – “Veyesh li achshav chaver chadash miDamesek / Ani rotsa la’asot et ze ito kol hayom / Im lo egmor, ze yigamer mamash bebum / Ani rotsa melafefon” – you get some of the filthiest lyrics ever to grace a Eurovision entry. Yay!
A: I love the way this manages to be so vibrant and monotone at the same time: it seems to fit the song perfectly. As does how repetitive it is while still managing to surprise you every now and then for the neat little things it does musically.
V: About the only Israeli entry which awful [backing] vocals can’t ruin. Come the two-minute mark it’s completely lost what limited energy it had to begin with.

02 The Netherlands
B: That entire second verse – capped off by “It’s time for us to sing a different song” – is so much more relevant now than it ever could have been coming straight after the relatively dizzy heights of Hemel En Aarde and One Good Reason.
A: While the synths are irritating, the Spanishesque guitar is great. But this just doesn’t hold my interest in the way the Israeli entry does.
V: Surely dubbing this a ‘mini-musical’ was the height of conceited self-delusion given it’s little more than a big dress, excessive make-up and two and a half minutes of people running around on stage clapping and looking daft in a way that only Dutch supporting artists at Eurovision seem able to. Our Linda is positively Maltese in how small and round she is. And silver.

03 United Kingdom
B: I’m glad crying in vain was never for Nikki French, given the drubbing this would come in for.
A: Marvellous uptempo start to the contest, but there’s little indication of variety or inspiration. Not that you can lay the blame at the UK’s door – this is more than Nikki’s bread and butter: it’s French toast. As in tempting in its way but a little hard to digest, and it never seems as good an idea after the fact as it did before.
V: They look like the cast of some BBC hospital drama doing a bad cabaret act for charity. The choreography is appalling, but the vocals are uniformly good, and the stage looks fantastic.

04 Estonia
B: “If you give me wings and reason why / Then I’ll be an angel in your sky” is pretty decent by Jana Hallas’ standards. As usual, a few nonsensical bits threaten to derail the whole thing, but never in a way that significantly detracts from the ‘pop my cherry’ coquettishness of it all.
A: The most seamless faux-Swedish cut-and-paste job Eurovision has ever produced. Surprisingly attractive, even today.
V: With the best will in the world, this sounds horribly ragged. Ines is the epitome of a performer’s nerves infiltrating their vocals. Terry Wogan’s remark that she was wearing trousers so tight you could see what she’d had for breakfast is one of my favourite Eurovision one-liners.

05 France
B: “Un goût d’orange, cannelle, on s’envole toi et moi” underscores how sensual and exotic these lyrics are. The way they slip and slide is so appropriate.
A: This is an acoustic and percussive masterpiece from the off, so the fact it then adds strings and a piano only makes me love it more. Sofia’s rich voice is the perfect match for a song of its nature, musically and lyrically.
V: Sofia makes the song sound gorgeous, as you might expect, but unlike Ines she betrays her nerves through her inability to connect in any shape or form with the camera and, by extension, the audience. So you can understand why it failed to score more than a handful of points: your average televoter is bad enough at rewarding true quality, let alone when it’s presented to them at such a distance.

06 Romania
B: Not quite as evocative as On Aura Le Ciel, but certainly as romantic. The words speak a little more simply, and there’s nothing wrong with that.
A: The first minute and a half is unadulterated aural ecstasy. They earn bonus points for the aptly sweeping, echoey production. The electric guitar solo fits the exuberance of the story that’s being told, as it reaches its culmination, but as ever I’d rather it wasn’t there.
V: Dan Teodorescu looks a little bit like Yoko Ono doing an impersonation of John Lennon.

07 Malta
B: A bit corny in places, these lyrics, but they work. The “Dejjem ridtek / Dejjem xtaqtek / Lilek ћabbejt” interlude shows how you can inject a bit of national flavour into an otherwise all-English song and make it work.
A: ‘Vivacious’ is the first word that springs to mind whenever I hear this. I think it’s Philip Vella’s best composition at Eurovision, or at least his cleverest, since every aspect of it captures the colour and mood of the lyrics and performer.
V: 2000 was the last bastion of the middle-aged at Eurovision, wasn’t it. God love Claudette. The vocal touches they add to this live are brilliant, and outsourcing the backing to the hosts was a greater stroke of genius here for Malta than perhaps in any other year.

08 Norway
B: There are some great lines in amongst this lot, including “…suddenly I saw you there / A stunning sight from God knows where / …looking quite impossible”. Having said that, there’s more than enough pop elsewhere for me that they really could ‘lose the popsicle’.
A: Sleigh bells ring... are you listening? The tone for the entire song is set within its opening bars: you just know it’s going to be utterly vapid in a fabulous kind of way. Not that the composer was slacking off; Poland clearly thought bits of the tune were worth pinching for their next entry. Simple but very effective key change.
V: There’s something peculiarly Norwegian about this performance that I can’t put my finger on. Good though, despite the dodgy vocals here and there. The messed-up harmonies in the bridge (‘something blue in perfect tune’) are one of the most sublime moments of backfiring vocals at Eurovision, like, ever. And the visual effects are great.

09 Russia
B: There’s something about these lyrics that makes me suspect Andrew Lane and Brandon Barnes are pseudonyms for a couple of Russians whose English is not perfect.
A: It doesn’t really matter whether this is any good, because it’s the only song so far to actually sound like something you might have heard on a radio station or chart show at the time. And it’s certainly competent. I’m not sure it’s aged very well, but it has its charms.
V: An early indication of Russia’s knack for knocking out proper-soundings songs in the contest in the new era. Alsou doesn’t sound much better than Ines in places, but the routine’s spot-on, and at least she’s confident staring down the barrel of Camera 1.

10 Belgium
B: Despite the gospel aspirations and lines like “Suivent la seule étoile à la gloire du Dieu vivant” it took me forever to realise this was a lobby song. Probably because I thought they were singing “Come on! Vivre sans amour!” and that rather seemed to take the emphasis away from good Christian values. Unless they were preaching abstinence.
A: I suppose if we have to have new-millennium praise-Jeebuz in Eurovision it might as well be like this. However incongruous my affection for it is, it remains as strong as ever.
V: Why do I get the impression none of them have ever had to perform anything this upbeat before? The vocals are generally good – and the second backing vocalist from the right can preach to me any time he likes – but as a performance it just doesn’t work.

11 Cyprus
B: I’ve always liked the mix of Greek and Italian here.
A: After Sti Fotia Mr Panayi was never going to return to the contest with anything less atmospheric*, and this only cranks it up a notch. His vocals blend with Ms Argyri’s in a way that adds to both and without detracting from either. As you might expect, it’s all rather melodramatic, but so what.
V: Vocal powerhouse, the pair of them. Not sure the colour scheme works.

*which perhaps explain why he didn’t seek on-screen credits for My Number One or This Is Our Night

12 Iceland
B: I love the way these lyrics capture the sense of that point in a relationship where absolutely anything seems possible.
A: Ten years after Eit Lag Enn this is just as retro but feels completely different: sort of effortless, and much more authentic. Just as much fun though. It has an easy appeal and some great hooks, and always has done, which is why I was surprised at the time that it didn’t do better.
V: There were lots of skirts on men in 2000, weren’t there. It’s never struck me before how much Einer looks like a fairly unattractive lesbian. Telma’s inexperience is obvious but doesn’t get in the way of a fun performance.

13 Spain
B: Do you think that in lines like “Aquí no hay límites a mis deseos / … / Aquí hay espacio para mis anhelos / Todo se puede cumplir” Serafín’s saying “being blind’s not all bad”?**
A: Everything about this is perfect except the chorus, which is pedestrian and boring and displays none of the ingenuity of arrangement that the verses and bridges boast.
V: **If so I would tend to agree, since at least he can’t see how they’ve dressed him and made him up to look like a spray-tanned priest with a Lisa Stansfield kiss curl. He sounds good, as do his backing vocalists, but the only thing I ever remember about this performance is that the video screens fail to form a single line at the end. And that says it all.

14 Denmark
B: A set of lyrics that prove you can get a message across just as effectively by keeping it to the point. That said, I love the “There’s just one more thing I’d like to add” bit.
A: This and Belgium were my unassailable pre-contest favourites. If I’m honest, the first time I heard it I was surprised at how consistently good it was: it made me want to listen to it again and again. And listening to it again now... it still wins me over.
V: Oh so personable. The audience love it from the off, and so do I.

15 Germany
B: Actually quite clever, these lyrics. They’re made much more palatable by the self-deprecating introduction.
A: This is too together to go to the bother of criticising it. And given it is what it is, doing so would seem kind of churlish.
V: It’s easy to see why this did as well as it did... but where are the gold chains?

16 Switzerland
B: It’s normally only French that manages to take a set of fairly banal lyrics and turn them into something that looks and sounds poetic, but the Italian pulls it off here. If you just read the English translation on Diggiloo it’s very ho-hum, but the actual words have something about them that suits the song perfectly.
A: Pretty much the same could be said of the music. It’s largely indicative of Switzerland not having a clue when it comes to Eurovision, but it’s a thing of beauty in its own way.
V: Jane and her mauve frock are like a premonition of the Bulgarian entry in Athens, right down to her coming across as slightly uncomfortable with the vocals until she gets the green light to let rip with them. The backing vocals are altogether too heavy-handed for my liking, but the whole thing comes together nicely for the final note, which is beguiling.

17 Croatia
B: “Sve svijeće svijeta nek se za nas upale” is an unexpected alliterative highlight in an otherwise typically economical set of Balkan lyrics.
A: Croatian entries clearly have a more distinctive sound than most people realise: this couldn’t come from anywhere else. It’s lovely.
V: Goran Karan looks far more Red Indian here than Roger Pontare ever has. Beautiful vocals from one and all, but the performance generally is a bit lacklustre.

18 Sweden
B: For an entry imbued with so much meaning in its music and performance, its lyrics don’t actually mean all that much when you think about them. They probably think they do, but they don’t. Not that it affects things much.
A: The way they approach this musically has never sat very comfortably with me. It’s like the obvious idea of how something like this should sound, but in reality it ought to sound completely different. More like the bridge and less like... well, all the other bits. The synthesised brass certainly doesn’t make me want to try and like it more.
V: Utterly mad and awfully directed (did they all get a bit overexcited at this point?), but it sounds enormous. Perhaps that explains why it did so well; I’m not sure anything else does.

19 FYR Macedonia
B: Vlado Janevski penned these lyrics??! I suppose that lends them a modicum of weight. The Macedonian majority paint the girls as the over-pampered, under-talented wannabes they are well enough, so I guess I shouldn’t complain. (“I nemoj da zaboraviš večerva da me sonuvaš” is particularly conceited and therefore perfect for a posse of spoilt teenage girls.) The English ones turn the concept on its head, but I suppose all they were going for was a fit.
A: When they’re just doing the chorus, in studio, with lots of tweaking and the memory of the twangly Macedonian bits offsetting the poptart whole, this sounds great.
V: Ha ha! It’s like an audition for Junior Eurovision, with some of the flattest harmonies (and vocals) Eurovision has ever heard.

20 Finland
B: “Dull monotone”.
A: I hadn’t realised what an international pile of poo this is: at least four nationalities and they still can’t make it sound any less like a Sunday school campfire number.
V: Where in the Bible does it sanction perms that hideous? Lovely backdrop. It’s alarmingly easy to pick the indigenous Finns and Dutch vocalists on stage.

21 Latvia
B: Typically Latvian lyrics in terms of how all over the shop they are, but dodgy grammar can’t hide how good lines like “Pretend there are things you just don’t know in spite someone’s told you are so cute” are.
A: Gorgeous, and in ways you never expect it to be.
V: Puts Germany in the shade. I love the organic feel of the lighting and visuals. The lads certainly know how to sell the song.

22 Turkey
B: The rhythm and delivery of “Duyuyor musun kırgın sessizliğimi, sustuğum anda?” are perfect for what it’s saying. Lovely lyrics generally.
A: The choice of instruments here is perfect, personifying and punctuating (and thus elevating) the lyrics. It’s just so... right.
V: This is utterly Turkish and not Turkish at all. It sounds fantastic, but more importantly feels great. Selim Öncel can squeeze my bellows any time he likes.

23 Ireland
B: My eyes are rolling before I’ve reached the end of the first line.
A: Whether or not this came 6th, it’s still Ireland showing it’s already slipping further out of touch with the contest. The sentiment is more vomitatious than Belgium’s happy-clappy Godathon.
V: The Swedish girls I got chatting to in Globen did a comedy double-take when Eamonn Toal started singing this. “My God! Is he for real?” one of them turned to me and exclaimed in horror. At least the vocals do them justice.

24 Austria
B: Great set of lyrics which earns plus points for not being lazy (i.e. adding a couple of new lines to the final chorus).
A: Just as authentic a retro number as Tell Me!, if not more so, largely thanks to the vocal[ist]s. Composer Dave Moskin was hard done by with the result this and Reflection got, really. As indeed was Austria.
V: All they needed was Whoopi Goldberg and the Sister Act would have been complete. And in fact they could have done with some backing, just to take the full weight of the vocals off their shoulders. That said, I still love their performance, bum first note or no: they look great, they sound right and they really look like they’re enjoying themselves. Wins me over every time.

And so to the points...

1 point goes to Estonia

2 points go to Cyprus

3 points go to Croatia

4 points go to Malta

5 points go to Romania

6 points go to Austria

7 points go to France

8 points go to Latvia

10 points go to Denmark

and finally...

12 points go to...

Turkey!!!

The wooden spoon is awarded, somewhat unexpectedly, to the Netherlands.

1999

2010-03-01T06:50:00.000-08:00

http://www.diggiloo.net/?1999

With special guest: Terry Wogan. I’d happily shove 13 songs in my top ten if I could.

01 Lithuania
B: You can understand why Lithuanian artists stick to first names on the international stage when they would otherwise be offloading patronyms like Smilgevičiūtė on everyone (matronyms? however it works in Lithuania).
A: This really is one of the most poetic songs ever to have graced the Eurovision stage, and there’s not a single element to the composition that isn’t in perfect keeping with what the lyrics are saying. From the trembling nascency of the percussion through the ebb and flow of the piano to the brilliant ascendance of the brass, it’s a breathtaking arrangement so vividly personified that it speaks to you even if you have no idea what the lyrics are saying.
V: Terry Wogan whinged about the ‘false ending’ here, but it is the apex of the song in so many more ways than one. Aistė’s performance, misinterpreted by virtually everyone who spouts an opinion about it, is absolutely in keeping with it. Fantastic vocals. I love her smile at the end. She has such wonderful features for a song like this, like a little robin has been chiselled out of her cheek bones.

02 Belgium
B: Was this performed in Dutch at Eurosong? I never realised it had such an anti-racist message. The Dutch lyrics are much more interesting than the English ones. Can’t believe it took four people to write them though (or the music).
A: This has an almost Irish quality to it, albeit with windmills on the horizon. It pales in comparison with the vibrant Lithuanian entry, but is nicely put together, and the occasional burst of strings is refreshing in what is otherwise a fairly staid piece of music.
V: The choreography is understated and effective, but the whole thing is very static. Sweden really revolutionised the contest in 2000, didn’t they? There’s hardly a camera pan or rapid change of shot to be had here. The backing vocals are good. Ms Chinitor is androgynous in a very ’80s way. (I think it’s the eyebrows.) Her voice has never convinced me.

03 Spain
B: No Quiero Escuchar is one of those titles that lends itself to a song coming last, in hindsight at least. “¿A quién tratas de engañar?” indeed.
A: Musically less inspired with each step we take this year, but then where do you go after Strazdas? I’ll admit that to this day I have a soft spot for this song, despite the fact that there is nothing much to recommend it beyond its solid if unimaginative middle-aged radio sound, and the nice vocals from Lydia.
V: I love the way the backing singers try to liven things up with their mum-and-dad-do-you-have-to footwork. They all look wrong though, not just Lydia in her “barber shop’s pole” as Terry Wogan called it. (Having said that, it really is a terrible dress.)

04 Croatia
B: Diggiloo reports there was an English version of this penned by someone calling himself ‘Adonis Ćulibrk Boytronic’! Who knew. “Your love is stretching me” makes an interesting opening line. Fantastic rhyme and rhythm in “Ova žena zna, da ti pripada... sva”.
A: This is bombastic in a way that Croatia has never managed [and perhaps even bothered to try] to match. It’s not particularly more interesting as a composition than Belgium, say, but it’s arresting, so it gets away with it...
V: …despite the awful sound mix (on just about everything this year). Doris and her big resistance-is-futile voice complete the picture. I love the way she employs her hair more effectively as a prop than the cape thing.

05 United Kingdom
B: I like “the way you’re fillin’ me with happiness”.
A: Many people would be tempted to lump this in with the likes of Don’t Play That Song Again and No Dream Impossible as examples of the UK not trying very hard at Eurovision, but to my mind it’s very solid pop. In the vein of a lot of Dutch entries it has a very clear and focussed structure which fits the three minutes perfectly, without labouring the point, and with rather a neat hook or two. In studio at least it sounds great.
V: Precious are a kind of precursor to the Pussycat Dolls, with Louise Rose here basically singing the song with four backing vocalists (one of whom would go on to be one third of Atomic Kitten) and taking the Nicole Scherzinger role. At least a couple of them look like they’re wearing their pyjamas. The backing vocals are in fact rough as guts, although it comes together pretty well by the end, and Louise looks and sounds great. The black one at the back in the cling wrap might want to eat occasionally. Good choreography.

06 Slovenia
B: Very romantic lyrics with a satisfying hint of smut about them.
A: To me this is a bit of a dirge, with far too much synthesiser. The way it just stops when the last note should go on forever is annoying, and Darja’s voice is rather grating.
V: How come Slovenia could do a woman in a gold dress in a spotlight with an old-fashioned ballad and earn enough to see them through to next year (or at least would have if they hadn’t ‘accidentally forgotten’ to broadcast the show, or whatever the reason was) when Romania couldn’t manage it doing exactly the same thing the year before? I suppose the difference is Ms Švajger looks like she’s enjoying herself and Ms Olinescu looked like a deer caught in headlights. Overall it’s a perfectly acceptable performance of an unaffecting song.

07 Turkey
B: The rhythm (and melodrama) of these lyrics (set to the music) suits the song perfectly, with lines like “kalbimde kanayan yaralar var, hatıralar” flowing beautifully.
A: The rhythm of the chorus combined with the relentlessness of the delivery, especially towards the end, is unbeatable, and I love the fact that the bridge is sung – or at least was in the national final, and is here on the studio version – as one long line. How they managed it without starving their brains of oxygen is anyone’s guess.
V: Even if you were watching it with the sound turned down you’d know this was the Turkish entry from the fact that they spend the first half a minute singing absolutely nothing. This has always seemed plagued by the murky sound to me: it’s like she’s singing inside an Israeli air force aircraft hangar there’s so much reverb. Plus the backing vocals are too loud. The ‘breathe now’ bits are a cop-out, and there’s not nearly the energy in the performance they’d like us to believe there is either, but at least they’re having fun. Which is why I always find myself drawn into it.

08 Norway
B: “Something is missing, baby.”
A: Considering this comes from roughly the same stable as Say It Again, I find it a bit strange that I can’t find a single thing to say in its favour. The pedestrian production stifles what might once have been a workable tune in the chorus.
V: As for our Stig: what a dork. Terry Wogan summed it up with brutal elegance when he said “Norway brings Eurovision roaring into the ’90s... with dreadlocks!”. Awful, pancake-thin vocals, although the backing singers are solid gold. Awful outfits, too. The lead singer is clearly the weakest link. Goodbye.

09 Denmark
B: The first half of the first verse sums up Denmark’s approach to Eurovision in the last decade or so perfectly.
A: I love the way this goes up a key in the bridge before stepping back again for the chorus, and then repeats the process, only a key higher to start with, from the second verse. It ties in nicely with what they’re singing. It always feels like a 45 being played at 33 at first, but soon takes on that quality of feeling right.
V: Trine’s fluttery lashes betray her nerves, but fair dos, it was only her second time on a big stage. The way the guys on backing vocals talk amongst themselves during the verses is totally Danish if 2001 was anything to go by. Herr Teschl overeggs the pudding a bit, making eyes at the camera the way he does. Strange that he then looks a bit peeved once it’s all over. His and Trine’s vocals blend nicely.

10 France
B: These lyrics could come from any French entry over a period of about 25 to 30 years.
A: Bit closing-credits-of-romantic-comedy this, if it were sped up ever so slightly. The na-na backing vocals don’t impress me, and Nayah’s voice is shrill and unconvincing in places: could be any number of Israeli entries. Great last note though, in the longer studio version.
V: Which I’m so used to that the way it curtails itself live is blessed relief. Nayah’s hair... that neck... dear lord Jesus. Not to mention the dress. That’s French fashion for you, I suppose. The supporting singers adopt the same approach (and outfits) as the Spaniards to equally little effect: milling about does not amount to choreography. Overall: solid, but with a quadriplegic reach.

11 The Netherlands
B: Clever lyrics in the chorus.
A: “Good song, too; must have a chance,” said Mr Wogan. “The Dutch have high hopes for that.” On listening alone you can see why he may have thought so. Another very solid Dutch pop production. All very neat and catchy.
V: There actually feels like there’s a bit of energy on stage for a change here. Marlayne looks stunning. Was there some decree that everyone (apart from Lydia) had to wear white, silver or black in 1999?

12 Poland
B: I love the lines “Prowadź mnie gdy światło drży i gdy pada cień” and “Jeśli łza jest jeszcze łzą, nie jestem sam”, and the way the lyrics just keep on spilling out until the huge, pleading finale.
A: Yet more class from the Poles. Not quite up there with their ’94 to ’97 efforts, but gloriously tortured all the same, and so beautiful for it. I listen to it in rapture every time it plays: it’s all about the vocals.
V: Mietek’s camp little wiggle of his head at the end is adorable.

13 Iceland
B: This has much more in common with the likes of Making Your Mind Up and other such ‘typical’ Eurovision fare than anyone tends to admit.
A: There’s no claiming it’s a musical masterpiece, but at the same time you’d have to be deaf, blind and super dumb to say it doesn’t work a fucking treat.
V: Selma provides amazing vocals for such a demanding routine. The way she completely ignores every camera bar Camera One gets my thumbs up. If only Ms Nilsson had sprained her ankle or been punched in the throat or something, we could all have been revelling in ESC00 in Reykjavik. But for some reason I feel that this will end up being as close as Iceland ever got to nabbing the title, despite the quality of a lot of the stuff they churn out.

14 Cyprus
B: Nice lyrics, on the whole. I love the simple belief implicit in “Fonakse t’ onoma tou, ke tha ’ne erotas”.
A: This is hardly the most accomplished thing floating around, and certainly not deserving of victory when virtually all of its components were produced at the press of a button. Not that I’m programmerophobic, of course. It just sounds a bit cheap.
V: Albeit in a surprisingly solid way live. The whole thing is a game of two halves that more or less works, but you can understand why no one went for it. The fact Marlain was studying musical theatre is obvious. “Gee that was grand,” said Mr Wogan. They must have been gutted it did so badly. The curse of the fan favourite! (But then what did fans ever know? Even after the beating this took they were convinced Corinna May was going to storm to victory in Tallinn.)

15 Sweden
B: Great lyrics in Swedish: I love the closing lines of the chorus – “Sagan om vår kärlek kan bli verklig, kan bli sann / Om du älskar mig i tusen och en natt” – and the fact they sang a bit in Swedish for the reprise. The English version is really well attuned, too.
A: The entry that led to everyone claiming, erroneously, that Sweden has been doing ABBA every year since 1974. Mind you, the references are there for all to see.
V: Amazing backing vocals, as ever; amazing vocals all round. Taut as taut. It’s easy to say in hindsight, but it has W.I.N.N.E.R. stamped all over it.

16 Portugal
B: There are some nice touches to these lyrics – the rhyming and alliterative wonder of “Dá-me a tua mão, não mintas mais / Olha que os teus olhos são cristais”, for example.
A: But when they’re not singing about swaying fields of corn and pine trees it all gets very bland very quickly with Portuguese entries. This has a solid enough structure that it should sell itself to you better than it does, if you can overlook the ‘come on, sing along’ quality, and yet after Take Me To Your Heaven – which is itself super retro – it sounds like it comes from another century. The last thirty seconds or so after the key change are good.
V: Just as Poland was trampled under foot by Iceland and its choreography, so too was Portugal destined to languish in the shadow of Sweden. Wella or whoever would kill to have any of those Portuguese men in their commercials advertising body, bounce and hair so healthy it shines.

17 Ireland
B: Next.
A: Musically and lyrically, Ireland continues to tread water at Eurovision. It’s all perfectly lovely, but utterly boring, and seems to think it has a quality which it simply doesn’t (although the vocals are flawless).
V: The Mullans are another lot who launch into their choreography from the second bar rather than the first. Makes it easier I suppose. I love their rehearsed Hebrew greetings at the end. Bronagh is the personification of statuesque, and has the best silver dress of the evening.

18 Austria
B: “When I’m bad, you know that I’m better” is a great line. I bet it would have sounded crap if they’d had to do the whole thing in German.
A: One of the best Austrian entries in years, and up there with the UK and the Netherlands in 1999 in terms of solid pop if you ask me. Layers of arrangement among which Ms Singer’s vocals rather commandingly tiptoe.
V: And she’s super cute to boot. As a sixties pastiche this would have been better being two minutes long rather than three, but they make up for it with some positively epilepsy-inducing camera work by the rest of the evening’s standards. I’m very grateful for the splash of red.

19 Israel
B: “Happy birthday to you, chalomot yitgashmu” is a great opening line to the chorus.
A: There’s something... unadulterated about this that sees me grinning like an idiot every time it comes on. I can see why it was considered a real contender, given how clear and simple its message is. The whole thing is uplifting in a way that is only rivalled by All Out Of Luck. The bassline draws me in instantly, as does the blend of voices, with the Butlers’ smooth black vocals working a treat.
V: The dance routine goes a bit awry towards the end, but by then it’s academic. Occasionally bordering on being something you feel you ought to be embarrassed to like, in the end it does enough right in its three minutes to make you realise you don’t have to apologise for singing along to it every time you hear it.

20 Malta
B: “I’m here to try.”
A: Malta at its most appalling: the original version is so utterly lame that not even a succession of remixes can make anything of it come curtain up. The way Whateverhernameis hits a bum note on said line – in the studio version – says it all.
V: Strange, awkward choreography. It’s interesting how one of the blow-up dolls making up the other two-thirds of the group makes a big O with her mouth to produce the same sound as the other one, who purses her lips to do it. I like their matching shoes.

21 Germany
B: Aspects of these lyrics are clever (such as the title), and the German/Turkish/English blend works a whole lot better than it should, but lines like “Frieden ist mehr als nur ein Spiel bei dem nur einer gewinnt” and “Barış olsun diye yürüyelim el ele” have Ralph Siegel and Bernd Meinunger written all over them whichever language they’re in.
A: Great strings accompanying the more traditional elements here. There’s a strong sense of how a melody should be put together, as you might expect from this pair of composers, without the Eastern influences being squeezed out of the picture. The bridge in particular has that typically Turkish sense of drama to it. Given all this it’s kind of amazing they were still beaten to the line by Corinna May (and lucky for Germany that she was disqualified frankly, given their steadily worsening results ever since).
V: A.k.a. the other Turkish entry. See what I mean about them basically doing nothing for the first 30 seconds? My only other remarks on watching this performance are that the one doing the English looks like she has Down’s Syndrome, and that the thin one in white is a bit of a flake.

22 Bosnia and Herzegovina
B: See: Lithuania when it comes to names like Dervišhalidović. In spite of the lesson in French declination in the chorus, these lyrics have something very deep and almost mystical about them.
A: The strings race all takes place in the home straight, as do the unlikely language combos that work perfectly, and the lucky disqualifications, given that our Hari and his old man of the sea were also sent packing. Stunning composition where, as with Lithuania again, virtually everything has something to say in support of the lyrics. The way it adds layer upon layer is fantastic.
V: Even Dino’s potato sack of a pullover looks good on that stage; indeed, everyone looks fabulous. It’s about as colourful and animated as Bosnia has ever been at Eurovision, without sacrificing good taste or depth. Tremendous vocals.

23 Estonia
B: Lovely if slightly skewed lyrics, which actually sound much better and paint a more complete picture in English than they do in Estonian.
A: Ditto everything I said about Lithuania and Bosnia re: the music being entirely in tune with the words. Effortlessly grand and celestial, underscored by the almost ethereal vocals. Arguably the jewel in Priit Pajusaar and Glen Pilvre’s glittering crown.
V: They definitely saved the best stage settings till last in Jerusalem. Not quite the vocal powerhouse I remember it being, this, but for all that it loses none of its charm. Evelin is the proverbial button.

And so to the points…

1 point goes to Germany

2 points go to the Netherlands

3 points go to Austria

4 points go to Israel

5 points go to Sweden

6 points go to Iceland

7 points go to Poland

8 points go to Estonia

10 points go to Bosnia and Herzegovina

and finally...

12 points go to...

Lithuania!!!

Matching wooden spoons are awarded (with jars and jars of relish) to Norway and Malta.

1998

2010-03-01T05:59:00.000-08:00

http://www.diggiloo.net/?1998

A year with so much to offer that virtually my entire top 20 deserves to be in the top 10, and where in any other year almost all of the top 10 would probably have taken the 12.

01 Croatia
B: Wonderful example of Balkan brevity yet again in the lyrics. This surely must be Croatia’s best ever entry. Whether or not they stole it.
A: Strings, piano, guitar. I need say no more. Cross-eyed Danijela seems much more in her element here vocally than banging on about nostalgia, lending the rather tortured ballad both the power and variation in tone it needs to really take off.
V: Goofy-looking backing singers as usual, like they just picked 5 downtrodden teachers out of some Zagreb state school and told them to stand behind the microphones. Brilliant vocals, having said that, all round. The derobing trick is effective but at odds with what the lyrics are saying. Needless to say the audience laps it up.

02 Greece
B: These lyrics strive for poetic and deep, and I rather like “Matea, ki apopse stous parathisous / Tis fandasias mou me t’ oniro tha planitho”.
A: For the first minute or so this always has me urging it on to greater things. They never come. Actually dissecting it now as I listen to it, it’s startling how bland it is.
V: Glad the acoustic guitar is given a more prominent place in the mix here. Dionyssia Karoki Georgopoulou is a mistake from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. If Tori Spelling was blonde and sang in Greek she’d be something like this, although probably better. The vocals are strained, flat and whiny all at the same time.

03 France
B: World music again from France, and this has African roots dangling from it left, right and centre. I love the fact that one of the composer’s names is almost ‘moist and crispy’.
A: I’ve always loved Marie Line’s voice: it’s like grated chocolate. The guitar strumming away between lines in the verses is just one of many things to like about the arrangement. It does go on a bit though.
V: Gorgeous! Love the way her vocals occasionally sound like they’ve missed the mark, but they’re meant to be that way. The performance manages to be both rhythmic and static at the same time.

04 Spain
B: Lacklustre lyrics. When he says “Y en un moment / Te olvidaste de vivir” is it an odd euphemism for ‘you died’?
A: Mikel Herzog’s voice would be rather like Serafin Zubiri’s if it wasn’t so thin and reedy. For me the lyrics here just don’t go with the music or the delivery: this should be a huge amazing thing full of pain and torment, but none of that comes through, however much they think an electric guitar riff will underline the point.
V: See what I mean about what Spanish men wore at Eurovision in the ’90s? Lots of eyebrow and floppy hair action here in what is at best a workmanlike performance. Love his “phew! glad that’s over!” moment at the end.

05 Switzerland
B: I hadn’t noticed before that Egon Egemann of SWI90 infamy had a hand in this, nor that Gunvor’s surname was Guggisberg. They should have formed a duet. ‘Gunvor Guggisberg & Egon Egemann’ has much more of a ring to it. “Es tut so weh” is probably something they were muttering to themselves come the voting.
A: There are more layers and atmosphere to this within the first 30 seconds than there is in the whole of ¿Qué Voy A Hacer Sin Ti? although, perhaps ironically, I’d say it’s laid on a little thick, especially with Gunvor’s breathy vocals and the backing vocalists hammering everything home the way they do. Although I do rather like it.
V: The only thing worthy of no points here is Gunvor’s hairdo. Fancy Switzerland providing us with our first thing closest to a dance routine of the contest. Egon’s still got that white violin.

06 Slovakia
B: “Čakám ťa, poď, spolu zažeňme smútok” – yay for diacritics! Ms Hasprová delivers a pretty mouthful of lyrics here.
A: Wonderfully rich arrangement, albeit one that seems to be going through a bit of an identity crisis at times. I can’t really fault it though, nor Katarina, but added together – and with the elephant in the room that is the clunky sound of Slovak – they produce something that should be extremely attractive but sadly isn’t.
V: Why, honestly, is long hair on men so popular in these countries? Despite clearly having a voice that wants to fill the hall, Ms Hasprová seems to rein herself in at times. The last note alone encapsulates for me the problems with the sound of the song: it’s just not pretty.

07 Poland
B: What is this song actually about? Very odd lyrics when you look at them. From the music you’d assume it’s something frothy, but then it basically seems to be saying “you’ve got aggression problems and our relationship is pretty shit, but this is as good as it gets”. Maybe that was Poland in the late ’90s for you. Interesting that the Polish word for embrace (“obejmij mnie”) comes from the same root as the Russian word for ‘kill’.
A: I believe this was something of a pre-contest fan favourite, wasn’t it? I can understand why it would have been, because it’s the lightest and most contemporary-sounding thing so far, and Renata Dąbkowska’s vocals are very engaging. Where it all starts to unravel for me though, and with surprising speed, is when the kiddy-sounding mamy-to vocals kick in. If they’d done away with them, this would almost be a masterpiece.
V: Takes ages to do anything at all, and Renata looks (and to a lesser extent sounds) very uncomfortable. The drumsticks appear to have more personality at first. Shame.

08 Israel
B: That opening line couldn’t be more appropriate.
A: Undeniably appealing when it has very little right to be. The music is fine, for what it is, and has some nice touches to it, but with Ms International it’s all about the tranny. She certainly can’t sing to save herself. The last chorus is rousing, and at least it’s all upbeat I suppose (not that it could be otherwise).
V: The middle eight is probably the best bit of the song, but vocally (from Dana) it is the weakest part of the performance. It’s an obvious crowd-pleaser, especially playing to such an audience, but it really is utter trash. The waists on Charlie’s Angels are almost insensitively narrow, but I’ve always loved the fact that the fat one was left on her own because she took up as much space as the other three pencil-thin backing vocalists put together.

09 Germany
B: Stefan Raab redeemed himself with Can’t Wait Until Tonight, but of his novelty entries this is by far the more successful, perhaps because it’s simply OTT where Wadde Hadde Dudde Da? was OTT and camp. Love the (almost ironic) innocence and simplicity of the fact that “meinen Liebesbeweis” is “Nussecken und Himbeereis”.
A: Loads of personality. Given what it’s showcasing, I’m constantly surprised it’s not layered on even more thickly. The arrangement is very effective. I’m actually tempted to say it’s up there among Germany’s best ever entries, although I’m not entirely sure why it is.
V: Brilliant. Love the Katie Boyle moment!

10 Malta
B: Sunny Aquilina sounds like a cut-price Romanian hatchback. Typically sodden, sappy Maltese lyrics, but somehow they make it work.
A: Composition ticks all the boxes, and I love its echoey quality. You can’t go far wrong with a fat bird belting out a big ballad, really.
V: I’m glad she’d discovered how to do ‘statuesque’ by 2005 rather than just ‘ungainly’. But it comes down to the voice, really, and while it’s not the best one you’ll ever hear it certainly wins you over.

11 Hungary
B: Poor dear sad old Charlie looks like he’s not far off joining his missus in pushing up the daisies. Wonderfully sad lyrics. Hungarian is such a fascinating language when you think that single words like meggyógyulsz express entire concepts like “you’ll get better again” and do so in such an unfathomable way.
A: There’s something highly authentic but nevertheless unappealing about the music here for me, and the way Charlie delivers the lyrics verges on overkill at times. It’s the first song so far which is crying out to be at least a minute longer.
V: Is he knock-kneed or did he forget to go to the toilet before coming on stage? To me the backing vocalists both add to and detract from the song.

12 Slovenia
B: This makes an unintentionally perfect counterpoint to A Holnap Már Nem Lesz Szomorú, without reaching quite the same heights of pathos.
A: Vili Resnik sells this for me more than the music does, which is slightly odd, since the music is very impressive and he comes across as being croaky for the sake of it at times.
V: Whereas live the croakiness is what does it. The backing vocalist who isn’t Karmen Stavec really needs to eat once in a while.

13 Ireland
B: Prophetic title considering their results post-Mysterious Woman. The lyrics are a bit meh but I do like the couplet of “To think that love should last / Was mistaken on my part / But you promised me the earth / And you only broke my heart”. And I’ve always been fascinated by Dawn Martin’s fangs.
A: Love her voice, adding an oomph to this that would probably otherwise have been lacking had someone else sung it. You’ve always got to worry about a song though that skips to a bridge before they’ve even managed a second verse. Casualty of the three-minute rule, I know, but still. Despite the fact that there’s nothing very exciting about the song, I really like it…
V: ...but it certainly paves the way for the decade of nothingness to follow. Awful lighting: who ever thought turquoise and magenta would go together?

14 Portugal
B: A song title with a subjunctive! Everything about this is so Portuguese I can’t but love it. Inês Santos could elide for her country.
A: Has there ever been a better example of this kind of song at Eurovision? I think not.
V: I used to have a banjo like that! Except it was a ukulele.

15 Romania
B: These lyrics are really rather beautiful, especially “Nu ştiu să privesc / Către stele, şi-acolo să te regăsesc”. Lots of people losing people in 1998.
A: There’s something delightfully understated about virtually everything to do with this song – even the electric guitar. It all cranks up a gear after the second chorus in a way that sees me punching the sky (in my head at least) every time. It’s no more special than the Irish entry in its way, but it’s more rousing.
V: I believe her when she sings it, even if it is a little uninvolving. I love her little tilts of the head after the first chorus.

16 United Kingdom
B: Why tie someone to locked chains? Seems a bit daft. “Every day is a question mark” is hardly inspired but it still makes a great line.
A: What a vast improvement this remix was over the somewhat insipid ballad it started out life as. I have to agree with those people who say the song’s journey is not an extensive one, nor one which seems to have much direction, but that suits the lyrics perfectly, and besides, it sounds fantastic. I still think, regardless of its shortcomings, that it’s one of the UK’s best entries. It’s a great pop song.
V: And contemporary! Yet again it’s the UK who produces something actually of its time. Great vocals from everyone, and the strings sound outrageously good live, giving the song so much more substance.

17 Cyprus
B: “Parakseni ki’ alokoti i agapi” as an opening line makes you wonder what kind of discourse sparkly-eyed twink Michael is about to launch into.
A: Astounding, captivating vocals from someone so young, but then so much about this song is surprising. The arrangement in studio is horribly scarred by the synthesised brass and the half-a-beat-too-late clapping, but that doesn’t change the fact that this is up there on the top shelf of Cypriot contributions to Eurovision.
V: The odd timing of the studio version is largely eschewed here, or at least not as obvious. Michael’s performance showcases both his vocal power and his slight awkwardness on stage. The audience love him though, as well they should.

18 The Netherlands
B: “Nederland was koel en kil / En dan vooral het weer” – a little bit of self-deprecation goes a long way with me :) Dutch isn’t really a pretty language, even when you read it, but it transforms in the hands of someone like Edsilia.
A: While it’s a song that the studio version tells you straight away was made to be performed live, it still represents the apotheosis of three-minute Dutch pop. As soon as it goes up a key it becomes pure genius. Edsilia has one of the most gorgeous, warm and inviting voices I’ve ever heard.
V: 100% fab.

19 Sweden
B: “This song was inspired by the death of Diana, Princess of Wales.” Who knew! I’ve always liked the lyrics. There’s some wonderful alliteration in lines like “Som en sol som värmer oss, som en himmels stjärnebloss”.
A: Lots of people seem to be indifferent to this song, and I don’t know why. The arrangement is lush and Jill Johnson’s vocals complement it perfectly. There aren’t a whole lot of ballads at Eurovision that have outdone it in my book, before or since.
V: Just lovely. It all seems so effortless.

20 Belgium
B: Mélanie Cohl looks like she’s on her way to do a bit of temping in that outfit. Things get a bit too preachy in the middle eight for my liking but otherwise this is certainly one of the strongest Wallonian entries.
A: Not as far removed from the likes of J’aime La Vie as it may seem, especially with a voice like that behind it. Charming nonetheless, with yet another great arrangement. Elements of it sound very Behaviour-era Pet Shop Boys.
V: Ms Cohl’s voice sounds softer and somehow rounder live, and it does her and the song a world of good. Great, simple camera direction.

21 Finland
B: Minimalist and ever so slightly kooky.
A: I could never see Estonia entering anything like this, ever. It really is unique.
V: Not that dissimilar to Se Eu Te Pudesse Abraçar in what it says about the country it’s from. Beautiful. I’ve always thought Marika Krook was stunning, and it’s nice to see Finland being absolutely Finnish with a cosmopolitan line-up.

22 Norway
B: Norway clearly knew something the rest of Europe didn’t, with a handful of songs in English already in their national final. Ironically, the Norwegian version is better. Great rhythm.
A: When Norway gets it right, they get it very right. I’d always loved 1998 but never thought that it had produced so many entries for so many countries which really were up there with the very best of them.
V: Was Dino of Bosnia-and-Herzgovina-Dino-&-Beatrice renown inspired by the knitted top Lars is sporting here, do you think? Perfect Scandinavian backing vocals.

23 Estonia
B: Lyrics full of poetry and whimsy by Estonian standards.
A: Another lovely composition that fills your head, but what I’ve always loved most about this song is the fantastic harmonies. That and the middle bit, which is just so appropriate.
V: He’s racked by more nerves than I remember him being. The white jacket was a mistake, but then he was from a fashion black hole only just emerging from behind the Iron Curtain, so we’ll let it pass.

24 Turkey
B: The ideas here are impenetrable in places but the overall melodrama makes the point. Erdinç and Canan Tunç certainly have a thing for the OTT.
A: Rather like their 2001 entry, but even more overblown, this is grand on soundtrack scale. I love it.
V: How does Tüzmen get his eyebrows to do that, do you think? The Neanderthals may have died out but their genes clearly live on, high on the plateaus of Anatolia. Not that that would see me kick him out of bed.

25 FYR Macedonia
B: Love the [again completely random] symmetry between this and Croatia as the opening and closing numbers. Much bleaker and more tangible a reality on display here.
A: The Balkan uncle Chris Isaak never met! There’s never been quite enough going on in this one way and another to truly engage me: the chorus just doesn’t live up to the promise of the verses, plus the song just kind of stops. Love Vlado’s delivery of it though, and it hints at the quality that FYRoM has since, by and large, consistently given us.
V: Don’t know what decade they resurrected Mr Janevski from, but it wants its suit back! They like their middle-aged housewives as backing vocalists in the Balkans, don’t they.

And so to the points...

1 point goes to Germany

2 points go to Estonia

3 points go to Norway

4 points go to Croatia

5 points go to Portugal

6 points go to Sweden

7 points go to Cyprus

8 points go to the United Kingdom

10 points go to Finland

and finally...

12 points go to...

The Netherlands!!!

The wooden spoon goes to Greece.

1997

2010-03-01T05:38:00.000-08:00

http://www.diggiloo.net/?1997

A year in which even the chaff would make a more than decent loaf.

01 Cyprus
B: There’s something very not-Anglo about motherland songs, isn’t there? Where are the British entries singing the praises of Old Blighty? This is one of my favourites from Cyprus, with some wonderfully poetic lyrics (e.g. the entire second verse).
A: Engaging, upbeat piece of music, too. There are some neat touches to the arrangement highlighting the dramatic moments. The only real letdown is the ending, which just... stops.
V: Competent if occasionally cheesy-in-a-good-way performance. Great opening number, which the audience clearly appreciates.

02 Turkey
B: The way the lyrics in the verses (well, verse) stretch out to the music is perfect for what they’re saying, particularly in the opening lines.
A: Armed to the teeth with everything that makes Turkish entries at Eurovision so appealing when they’re this well produced and performed. Wonderful arrangement. My only criticism of the song might be that its ‘chorus’ is a little pedestrian compared to the rest.
V: That and that the studio version is lyrically not as flowing or interesting to the ear as the live one. Şebnem’s lungs struggle to be contained within her diminutive frame. She looks a bit like a pixie imitating Sigourney Weaver. I’m already struggling with the rankings.

03 Norway
B: There are a lot of things about this that should make it so wrong, and yet I always find myself singing along, especially to the line “ingen gevær, no war, no disco”, which I feel would have made a more interesting title than San Francisco. The amount of English permitted (as with Austria) is astounding. No wonder they realised they’d have to change the rules.
A: Fantastic acoustic track. It’s just a pity that as a genre the whole thing is easy to take against.
V: Tor Endresen sent shivers down my spine with his vocals on Can You Hear Me at Melodi Grand Prix a few years ago, and while this is a different kettle of North Sea fish entirely, the performance is still top-notch.

04 Austria
B: This has some very clever lyrics – “Die Nacht wirft einen Schatten und der ist von mir / Dein Kissen unberührt und ich noch immer hier” making a great opening line, and my personal favourite: “Liebe ist kein ungedeckter Scheck!”
A: They pack an awful lot into their three minutes here, musically. You don’t often hear songs that sound this ‘full’ in the contest, having said and done a lot more in their allotted time than you would’ve expected them to be able to.
V: One of the earliest examples in my memory of a song being set to a truly slick routine, and to great effect in my opinion. Perhaps in response to the introduction of the televote? I’ve always thought it was overlooked; it’s a treat to watch. Bettina Soriat, while completely solid, is perhaps in fact the weak link, and only then if you find her voice grating.

05 Ireland
B: I’ve never felt that this had much to offer lyrically – I want to give him a wake-up slap when he claims he “got a feeling in his heart he didn’t understand”.
A: Quintessentially Irish, but while the arrangement is nice enough it fails to set the world alight for me. They’re still getting away with it at this point though.
V: Yet another wonderful performance, but I can’t help but feel this was rewarded for simply being as bog-standard as it possibly could be. That it should come second when Dreaming only managed 14th a couple of years earlier baffles me. Marc Roberts is a darn sight more attractive though, it has to be said.

06 Slovenia
B: I adore the ebb and flow and surprising softness of the lines “Tam za prazno mizo čaka vsako noč / Njena čista duša kliče na pomoč”.
A: This is almost like incidental music, and verges at times on the medieval. Mind you, the percussion and synths carbon date it just as effectively.
V: What a complete package this is, Tanja Ribič looking for all the world like she’s stepped out of the pages of the very fairytale she’s recounting. The arrangement is wonderful, working in complete harmony with the lyrics. Pure class that makes me want to run away to the fantasy wonderland of Slovenia at once and, as Platin would later implore, stay forever.

07 Switzerland
B: As with most Italian (language) entries the lyrics here have an enormous amount to offer – including a lesson for Switzerland in the line “Anche gli errori hanno il loro valore”!
A: Bit of an odd one this: it comes across as a work in progress rather than the finished article, like there’s something missing the whole time. Which I suppose is appropriate. Fab outro.
V: You’d be hard-pressed to find fault with the performance.

08 The Netherlands
B: Message is a bit boring.
A: The music’s cleverly attuned to the lyrics but is, at times, a bit too much.
V: God love Mrs Einstein: they’re like a mid-’90s prototype for Desperate Housewives with a more obvious social conscience. And great outfits. Their voices just melt into this sumptuous whole, and you can’t help but love their little routine.

09 Italy
B: “Mi aspetto mille scuse come sempre da te / Sei un fiume di parole dove anneghi anche me” make brilliant opening lines.
A: Clever arrangement. I prefer the edited version of this to the studio one, as it conveys the message more succinctly, which seems right under the circumstances. Despite the title.
V: Ms Jalisse is simply stunning, combining exquisite Italian looks with an incredible voice and a presence that fills the screen and demands your attention. For Italy to give us this and then do a disappearing act is criminal.

10 Spain
B: “Se apaga la llama, se apaga el amor / Pero el corazón siempre sentirá...” Love it.
A: My ex once remarked that this was one of the most boring Eurovision songs he’d ever heard, but I find it altogether wonderful. Not as inspired perhaps as some of its stablemates, but it comes across as so utterly heartfelt.
V: Aaah... Marcos Llunas. What a dreamboat. Not sure about his lapels, but he has one of those voices that brings me out in goosebumps every time. No hard feelings indeed.

11 Germany
B: Scrabble alert @ ‘zurückzudrehen’.
A: The harp’s great and the arrangement generally’s very good; for their failings, Siegel and Meinunger know what they’re doing. Das ending is also gut.
V: Bianca Shomburg’s a bit of a fashion disaster, especially with that head of poodle hair on her, but she puts in yet another convincing performance of a song that may otherwise have threatened to fall a bit flat.

12 Poland
B: The lyrics here are sheer poetry: “Jestem piasku ziarenkiem w klepsydrze / Zabłąkaną łódeczką wśród raf etc etc” – the entire chorus is magic.
A: Outstanding music. You could cut the air with a knife there’s so much atmosphere.
V: All this and a powerhouse performance from Ana-Maria Jopek. Without doubt Poland’s classiest entry ever. It only gets better, doesn’t it? What a year.

Addendum: That is quite possibly the best song Eurovision has ever produced.

13 Estonia
B: There’s a sort of swirling weightlessness to these lyrics that envelops you, just like the fog they namecheck. Albeit not quite as wet or oppressive.
A: This is one of the most accomplished pieces of music Estonia has sent to the contest. The ‘improved’ ending – it was never there in the original – is the icing on the cake. Stunning.
V: Proof, if any were needed, that Maarja has [long had] one of the purist, strongest and most beautiful voices Estonia has heard. She plays a blinder here, and has only gone on to improve on it.

14 Bosnia and Herzegovina
B: It’s funny how the lines “Potraži me u uglu svoga sjećanja / Pronađi me u zori novog svitanja” manage to reflect the beauty of what they’re saying while superficially looking so ugly.
A: Absurdly cheery for a that’s-that-then kind of song, but why not I say.
V: Uniformly awful outfits and hairdos, but this is Bosnia at its synthesised best, if the superlative applies here. Great performance. Love the second bridge.

15 Portugal
B: I love the idea of “Juras ao luar, e a canção do mar”.
A: Lacks immediacy, this, it has to be said. Lush though.
V: Those oddly attired backing vocalists just can’t coordinate their clicking, can they? Add to this Ms Lawson’s butcher’s apron of an outfit and the slightly thin sound to the music and you begin to understand why it was overlooked so completely. And yet it’s a lovely song, performed – at least vocally – with conviction.

16 Sweden
B: The bridge contains my favourite line here: “Ingenting är värt nåt om inte vi finner varandra”.
A: We’re into a run of songs which are all competent in their own way but lack some of the oomph of preceding entries. This displays the Swedes’ knack of knowing how to structure a decent three-minute pop song…
V: …and the lads clearly have a good time with it. I think it’s great they were self-deprecating enough to call themselves Blond.

17 Greece
B: There are some wonderful lyrics here: the entire chorus being an example, especially the easy rhythm of “Mes’ ap’ to soma sou, n’ anastitho”.
A: Another delightful and layered arrangement. You can hear every twang and jiggle.
V: Screams ‘Greek’ in the same way Dinle screamed ‘Turkey’, right down to the little finger cymblettes. Marianna has a sensuality about her that perfectly suits the song (and the line quoted above). Its chances were always going to be pretty much zip though, weren’t they.

18 Malta
B: I like the idea of clouds caressing your face with someone’s tears.
A: What we have here is yet another lovely composition, although there’s something about it that makes it not work the way it should; not sure what. The Little Drummer Boy interlude perhaps. The awkwardness of the chorus is fitting.
V: More dried molluscs being rattled in lieu of a proper instrument. It works, and they obviously like their seafood extenders in Mediterranean music. Doesn’t help Malta coming straight after Greece, especially not with Debbie Scerri wearing such a horrible dress.

19 Hungary
B: The lines “Az éjszaka csendjében, még hallod talán / As álmokon át, úgy vigyáznék rád” are very romantic.
A: As wonderful as most of them are, there’s been very little to this point that’s seemed remotely of its time; Cyprus perhaps coming closest. So it’s nice to see Hungary trying it after its two previous entries, which were so different, provided such contrasting results. This is clearly an attempt at Take That popularism, which I don’t mind at all.
V: Hmmm, a bit repetitive, but it has some great strings and oboe. (Oboe?) They’re let down by the blond guy.

20 Russia
B: The irony of “I svaim ustalim vzoram, karanovanim slyezoy / Glydish ti v etat zal / I slovna vidish son, no son rastayal” is perfect in hindsight.
A: From what I’ve heard this remains one of Alla’s best and most iconic songs, although she’s got a pretty impressive back catalogue. It seems to have been composed around her voice, and the style of the song chosen for her and her alone. There’s a lot to like about the music.
V: My God she looks a sight in that outfit! And yet she wears nothing else, to this day. Brilliant performance of what is a delightful story. The audience go bonkers! This and Iceland make an unlikely couple.

21 Denmark
B: Truly bizarre language, Danish, when you look at it, that can turn lines like “Jeg trykked’ en, en, otte, ønskede, håbede” into something altogether different and more pleasant-sounding.
A: It’s a sign of the mire Eurovision was in at the time that entries that dared to exhibit anything even approaching contemporary were resolutely ignored by the juries, whatever their virtues. That said, I’m not sure this boasts a whole heap of ’em.
V: This is about as cartoonish as Denmark has ever gotten at Eurovision (bar the Aqua interval in 2001) and is loads of fun, and has an excellent orchestral arrangement.

22 France
B: “Sentiments... / Légère comme un silence / Jeu de larmes pour nuits blanches” – talk about white: Fanny is positively alabaster!* Another (I keep saying the same things) wonderful set of lyrics from the French entry…
A: ...accompanied by a complex, arresting arrangement that is a joy to listen to. If anything, the song’s a little too reserved for its own good, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.
V: *And positively adorable.

23 Croatia
B: Obviously I love this because of its rhyming couplet of šlag and drag.
A: I can see why this didn’t set the scoreboard on fire: it’s complete trash. There had to be some balance for Hungary I suppose. Unabashedly craptastic.
V: Brave of Croatia to go with something like this really given the sobriety of many of their previous (and subsequent) entries. Still, there’s no accounting for what a voting public or slap-up jury will go for. ENI do a great job if you ask me.

24 United Kingdom
B: As stuttery as this should be, it flows surprisingly well. “Let the love light carry” makes a great hook.
A: There’s something scarily Christian about this.
V: But what can you say? It’s the perfect Eurovision anthem and a very competent piece of music performed exactly as it needed to be. Why then have I never much liked it? Sometimes I guess you just have to shrug and give a song its dues.

25 Iceland
B: “En samt iðrast ég aldrei neins, iðrast aldrei...”
A: See: V:.
V: The gayest thing ever to hit the Eurovision stage pre-Silvia Night. It sounds completely different live to the studio version, almost impossibly richer, and yet all the spectacle of it – rarely more enjoyable or appropriate – conceals what is an accomplished piece of writing, with music and lyrics both conveying so much meaning, helped along by some first-rate direction. Or do I just love it because it’s so queer? Tremendous ending, to both the song and the contest.

And so to the points…

1 point goes to Turkey

2 points go to the United Kingdom

3 points go to Greece

4 points go to Cyprus

5 points go to Slovenia

6 points go to Estonia

7 points go to France

8 points go to Iceland

10 points go to Italy

and finally...

12 points go to…

Poland!!!

Again! That's 44 out of a possible 48 points they've had off me in 4 years! The 1997 wooden spoon is awarded – with reluctance, given the wall-to-wall quality – to Bosnia and Herzegovina.

1996

2010-03-01T03:47:00.000-08:00

http://www.diggiloo.net/?1996

A high-quality field in which even the lesser songs and performances make themselves easy to like.

01 Turkey
B: Everything about the line “Yeter bu sonbahar yeter” and what it’s saying is right.
A: A triumph of minimalism: rarely are there more than three instruments in use at the same time, including voice. Beautiful rich piano. I’m not a fan of the accordion, but it’s perfect here.
V: Sounds 100% the same live as it does in studio. Love how all the girls are wearing short skirts in a last ditch attempt to inject some sense of modernity into it, and the fact that the one on the accordion still has her spacky specs on. Lovely assured vocals from Şebnem.

02 United Kingdom
B: “Like a child, but it’s more than a phase / Could act the angel, but it wouldn’t be true” are rather clever as lyrics to brainless pop go.
A: Quintessential mid-’90s dance music – mostly because Motiv8 remixed everything in existence at the time. Aptly enough, after Turkey, it’s another example of the UK trying to drag the contest into the modern era... and having no success. It still sounds remarkably good if you ask me.
V: Huge cheer from the audience at the beginning, and they go bonkers for it at the end. If they had introduced widespread televoting a few years earlier, I wonder whether it really would have been the runaway winner everyone feels it should have been. It’s massively energetic. The video effects are tacky – as they are throughout the show (and this was 1996??) – as is the dummy computer. I mean duh, we get it, it’s programmed. Gina’s vocals take a bit of a detour here and there but they clearly know where they’re meant to be going.

03 Spain
B: I love the whole ‘caramel and honey’ thing and the lines “Quise mirar al cielo y ser / Un horizonte de estrellas y mar”.
A: Antonio Carbonell is a bit love-him-or-hate-him but the music is just gorgeous. There’s not a note out of place. Fabulous arrangement.
V: He just does his own thing with no compromise at all, and does it brilliantly. Wouldn’t want to run into those backing vocalists in a dead end on a dark night.

04 Portugal
B: Elision certainly gives lyricists in certain Romance languages carte blanche, doesn’t it. (That’s where the Slavic languages miss out. No wonder Balkan entries are all about five lines long.) As per Spain’s caramel and honey, here I love the honey and salt, which seems more incongruous but at the same time much more Portuguese. I also love that despite the tempo and the amount of words there’s still the languor of “Vem juntar o teu ao meu sabor” and “Preguiça doce e boa, vai de lá, vai de cá”.
A: Fab harmonies, and yay for the ukelele. I used to have one just like it.
V: Sounds so much better live, it had to be said. Fantastic vocals, especially in the chorus.

05 Cyprus
B: Beautiful lyrics, especially in the chorus.
A: Stirring piano-led ballad with a string accompaniment. Does it for me. Being Greek (basically) it has to have an electric guitar solo, but I choose to overlook that here. Plus it’s right in my register and I know all the words by heart :-)
V: Fifth great-to-outstanding vocal performance in a row.

06 Malta
B: The lines “No pride can save me, I’m down on my knees / ... / Just keep right on heavin’” amuse for all the wrong reasons.
A: Bargain basement pop with oddly unnatural English – must be Malta! You’d think they would’ve learned by now, but no, they seem to think it’s a tried and tested formula, despite the fact that with one exception their biggest (and basically only) success has been with ballads.
V: Ms Christine is the nearest human equivalent to Miss Piggy I have ever seen. I mean, give her a blonde wig and voila! She’s got an unusual voice, too. Not sure that’s a good thing here.

07 Croatia
B: Perfect rhythm on the line “I dok hladna kiša pada na grad, tko zna gdje si ti sad”.
A: Well, it goes without saying that it’s fabulous. Even the screaming is spot on, artistically. The instrumental break could almost be from an Irish entry when you listen to it.
V: It’s as though she’s saying: “Look at me, Gina G! My choreography actually means something!” Another young girl in a miniskirt, I see, this time with a flute.

08 Austria
B: ...aka Where’s Dr Good-God? I had always assumed this must have something to do with God because (a) it’s gospel, (b) I misinterpreted the title and (c) he’s blind. So it was refreshing to discover that it’s not. I’d love to hear a gospel number about doing the vacuuming or something equally banal.
A: They pack a huge amount (of everything) into these three minutes and should be praised for it. And it does everything a gospel song should.
V: You’d be hard pressed to outdo those backing vocals. Fantastic. Such a quality performance.

09 Switzerland
B: I like the lines “Qu’il n’y avait qu’à lui sourire / Et lui mentir pour lui appartenir”.
A: Malta and Switzerland make such easy targets, don’t they? This is join-the-dots musically and the vocals up front and in back are so weak, like no one could really be bothered. Mind you, I’ve always liked it for some reason. Enough to sing along to, anyway.
V: She looks like Australian comedian Jane Turner doing a piss-take of some proper singer who takes herself a bit too seriously. Good performance again, but she has the kind of voice that makes it sound like a fluke.

10 Greece
B: I love throwing caution to the wind with the line “...ola osa mathame, asta na perimenun”.
A: Wonderfully unorthodox timing. I’ve always liked this a lot, too. Once you get over the novelty of the rhythm there’s not a lot else to it that’s as absorbing, though the overall impression is of a nicely composed piece.
V: We can see Marianna’s belly button. How daring! The choreography is very fey, but the backing vocalists in the tight trousers are a sight for sore eyes.

11 Estonia
B: I would say that these lyrics go a long way to showcasing the beauty of Estonian, but then…
A: …I’m probably biased! There’s just something very special about this generally. It builds beautifully and so effectively to that last big chorus, before gently stepping back again. Nine out of ten Estonians still name this as their favourite Estonian entry.
V: Ah... voice of an angel. Pity about the lazy eye. Meanwhile, Glen Pilvre (on keyboards) looks like an old man who left his teeth in the glass of water on his bedside table. I love the way Maarja ceases all extraneous movement for the high note. I’d never noticed until watching it again now how the audience tries to clap along, even during the first verse. Hilarious! But you can see why it was the favourite to win after the final dress rehearsal.

12 Norway
B: “Elven renner stille hen over sletter, skog og eng / Men på sin vei... gikk den over stryk og stein” is simply lovely.
A: Speaking of things special, this is just glorious. Music, lyrics and vocals working in absolute harmony. They couldn’t have chosen better for a home (or Norwegian) entry.
V: Perfect. Well, apart from the backing vocalists’ outfits maybe. Beautiful final note. It’s amusing to see that the well-attired in the plum seats are still of the posh variety that gives a sitting rather than standing ovation.

13 France
B: Thumbs up for “Gleb ho taoulagadoù dre forzh c’hoarzhin / Ha didrouz ho klac’harioù”, both for the sentiment and how weird it looks.
A: This never really stood a chance against Ireland, trying to beat them at their own game – even though it’s by no means their game alone. Worthy attempt all the same, especially from France. I can’t say I’ve ever taken to it. It just seems to find a line it’s comfortable with and repeat it over and over again, musically and lyrically. The full-length version’s bagpipe ending is wonderfully Highlandesque.
V: They should have ditched most of the words and left the instrumental ending in. The blonde one looks like that woman out of Fleetwood Mac, only with a terminal illness. I quite like the way their vocals are not 100% in tune with one another, figuratively speaking, and literally on a couple of occasions. The guys in the background look like they’re playing car parts.

14 Slovenia
B: These lyrics don’t look very pretty, but they turn out alright in the end.
A: God love Regina. She can’t sing, can she? There’s something admirably hopeless about this from the outset. Perhaps, again, that’s why I’ve always had a soft spot for it.
V: Awful outfits across the board. Green is not Regina’s best colour. Are the rest of them at a funeral? There’s just nothing imaginative about this performance at all.

15 The Netherlands
B: Love the phrase ‘stapel op jou’!
A: A typically well-paced and well-structured three minutes of pop from the Netherlands that covers all the bases. Great harmonies.
V: There’s more life in the first 30 seconds of this than there is in the whole three minutes of Slovenia. Terrific vocals again. Effective choreography which is also completely unobtrusive.

16 Belgium
B: This has some quite good lyrics. I titter at the line “Liefde is een steekspel van geven en nemen” but truly like “Wou je mij verslinden / Zonder je te binden?”.
A: If the Swedes had done this at the time and saved Friends the bother of plagiarising it five years later, it might have turned out OK in a more identifiably schlager style. The Belgian production just sounds cheap, and given how hard they obviously tried to give it an easy-to-remember melody, it’s strangely off-putting.
V: Hopeless, although that’s no reflection on Ms del Bo.

17 Ireland
B: There’s real poetry in some of these lines.
A: I have to be honest and say I’ve always resented the fact that this won, but that I can’t recall why. Maybe I was just bored of Irish victories. Maybe I was rooting for Gina G. Looking at it now, somewhat more objectively, it’s probably Ireland’s most stunning entry, like, ever, and more than worthy of winning. A product of its time, maybe, but timeless, too, and quietly powerful. Eimear Quinn has a divine voice: it’s so pure.
V: And she looks fantastic. This certainly had everything going for it.

18 Finland
B: Good for practising your Finnish pronunciation, this.
A: Utterly and absolutely fabulous! And clueless.
V: Welcome to Fashion Victim Central. I love it when she gets her own lyrics wrong.

19 Iceland
B: Strikes me as a bit desperate this song – the only one in 1996 to flaunt the language rule as brazenly as many would the following year.
A: Am loving the jazz though, and it has a great middle eight. Well, it’s more towards the end, but still. Kudos to Iceland for consistently doing their own thing, I suppose.
V: Good backing vocals, and cute routine.

20 Poland
B: There’s something so raw about lines like “W każdą noc, kiedy pragnę / Znów zakrywasz twarz / Czy naprawdę tak miało być?”.
A: Piano and strings again, but this couldn’t be further apart from Cyprus. It is perfect. What an amazing run Poland had between 1994 and 1999*. And look what’s happened to them since. Where did it all go wrong?
V: You can read every note on her face. This is one of the most honest performances I have ever seen, anywhere, right down to the way she clings to the sleeves of her dress the whole time. Which as remarks go is a bit disingenuous, I know, as it appears to be designed that way, but still. I’m glad we never get to see her smile.

*With a slightly less successful poppy interlude in 1998

21 Bosnia and Herzegovina
B: I admire the alliteration (of sorts) in “Za našu ljubav, samo živim ja”.
A: Within about five seconds of those keyboards and that first “ahhhh” you just know what this is all about. Sounds like it was written in someone’s lounge room to be sung at their sister’s wedding. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. It also sounds like it was found in a time capsule unearthed during the blitz of Sarajevo. Heartfelt vocals save it from musical oblivion.
V: Dearie me, Amila, what have you come dressed as? An entire poultry farm must have been sacrificed for those hair extensions. Great vocals.

22 Slovakia
B: “Občas bývam krutý / Ako každý kto má sny, dávno prežité” make a great pair of lines.
A: I like this but have always wished they had introduced a proper beat in the chorus: it deserves it at some point but never really gets it. As a result it tends to drag, rather interminably in the second verse, which appropriately enough contains the lyrics above. The longer (original?) version reveals the oomph it should have had injected into it much earlier.
V: Must have taken him an age to get the face fuzz right. Stirs me in the right places. More great vocals, but sadly more awful outfits as well. Marcel’s picnic rug jacket at any rate.

23 Sweden
B: “Vintern den sänker sin slöja och bäddar in husen” makes a great opening line.
A: Not that you need the lyrics to get the wonderful wintry feel this song has. The vocals are spot on and the Swedish sounds great, especially simple things like ‘snöflingor’. It’s quite Enyaish, which is why, presumably, it did so well. That this, Norway and Ireland made up the top three may be testament to their quality, but it also shows very clearly where Eurovision was at during this period.
V: This just sounds magnificent. Not sure about the choice of outfit on the one who’s not Nanne Grönvall, or however she spells her name. They both look like they’re out of a mid-’90s Swedish version of Desperate Housewives.

And so to the points…

1 point goes to the Netherlands

2 points go to Cyprus

3 points go to Finland

4 points go to Croatia

5 points go to Portugal

6 points go to Sweden

7 points go to Norway

8 points go to Ireland

10 points go to Estonia

and finally...

12 points go to...

Poland!!!

The wooden spoon is awarded to Belgium.

1995

2010-03-01T03:25:00.000-08:00

http://www.diggiloo.net/?1995

Not the stellar year I remember it being, despite some truly great entries.

01 Poland
B: Perhaps more than any other song in the contest, Sama reads like poetry set to music. Like poetry inspired by a painting set to music. Or perhaps some grainy black and white portrait taken by a photographer highlighting the darker aspects of city life. The only slightly disappointing thing about it is that the brevity of the title, though apt, robs us of something more left-field like By Pchłą Stać Się Małą.
A: Haunting, complex and arresting. If it were saying anything else it would get my back up for being so pretentious, but the artistry is undeniable.
V: Not the best start, it has to be said, although I love the stance Justyna adopts. Sounds a bit ragged in places.

02 Ireland
B: Ideal choice of words and images to match the rhythm and feel of the music.
A: Had the juries made a conscious decision (or been told) not to vote for Ireland in 1995? I personally feel this is head and shoulders above any of their three most recent winners. I fall in love with it from the opening bars every time I listen to it: a true marriage of music and lyrics, with vocals that are perfectly matched and perfectly pitched.
V: There’s none of the subtlety of the studio version here either. The strings are severe.

03 Germany
B: Does the delightful Cheyenne think of herself in the plural often, I wonder? Why call herself Stone & Stone? There’s only one of her. I hope the ignominious fate this fetid ode met answered her question à la “Ist mein Leben endlos leer?” but knowing the likes it will have been water off a duck’s back.
A: German is not a musical language at the best of times, let alone with a voice like that. Strip the song of it (and the sycophantic lyrics) and you actually have a composition and arrangement I admire. Even if it’s not very adventurous.
V: Would it be unfair to say that only Germany could vote something like this to victory? Even Christian Belgium would think twice. Talk about rough around the edges. Everything post-key change is a disaster.

04 Bosnia and Herzegovina
B: Tortured love song and social commentary in one. Love the line “Kad životu puno damo on nas pojede”.
A: The first thirty seconds of this are so promising. Then it dissolves into your usual Bosnian keyboard production and I struggle to maintain my enthusiasm for it, especially when it drops into the chorus so abruptly. Bits’n’pieces of the arrangement I like, but not enough for the song as a whole to win me over.
V: Finally a performance where the music doesn’t sound overbearing and intrusive. Nice vocals.

05 Norway
B: Gunnhild Tvinnereim looks like her face is falling off. Given that the lyrics here were only added so that there would actually be some, they’re very effective.
A: There’s no disguising the beauty of this composition, but I still have misgivings about what is essentially little more than soundtrack music winning Eurovision.
V: What with the fiddler being Irish and the fiddle accounting for more than half of the song, this is basically a fourth consecutive Irish victory. It’s immediate and yet understated, so you can see why the juries went for it.

06 Russia
B: These lyrics are rather clever in their way; I especially like “Spi ugryumiy velikan, spi nyedryemlyushiy vulkan”. If it’s all one big metaphor though it’s lost on me. Unless it’s for Philip Kirkorov’s ego and the writer was trying to tell him something.
A: Bombastic from the off, and right enough. Doesn’t exactly capture the whole volcanic thing though, and I would have liked the arrangement to exhibit a bit more variety, reflecting the quieter and more imploring moments in the lyrics. Having said that, the production is very professional.
V: Oh lordy: that hair. It’s scary how much Philip looks (and stands) like Alla Pugachova. Nice that they use both the Cyrillic and Latin alphabets for the name at the beginning. Strong performance, but the song goes nowhere.

07 Iceland
B: The only thing reading these lyrics makes me think is ‘all talk and no action’.
A: Another of Iceland’s piano-led pop-rock ballads. There’s certainly nothing wrong with it. The backing vocals are divine.
V: Eurovision in the mid-’90s really was the province of the middle aged, wasn’t it. Bo is dressed like some 19th century pastor. Couldn’t he get the other buttons on his Paul Smith jacket to do up? As presented the song just sounds boring.

08 Austria
B: Uplifting lyrics by Austrian standards, although calling someone “Akrobat ohne Seil” as a term of endearment sounds odd. Maybe it’s a German thing?
A: At long last a bit of character from Austria they haven’t slapped on in desperation. German sounds much better set to this kind of music. The bridge makes an ideal lead-in to the chorus, which is one of the catchiest and most feel-good the country has come up with in the contest. Certainly has me bopping along to it every time. The key to the song’s success though simply lies in its authenticity.
V: Oh god, the obsession at the time (well, dating back to the late ’80s) for women saxophonists in revealing outfits. Great vocals from everyone, although Stella’s are a little exposed at times.

09 Spain
B: The story here would be just another bleeding-heart tale of lost love if it weren’t for the casually inserted “ya te he pedido perdón” towards the end turning it on its head and making you realise that Ms Conde’s only got herself to blame. Might explain the screaming blimp she’d devolved into by the time of La Mirada Interior.
A: I have to admit I’ve never really seen the appeal of this song, mostly because I don’t much like Anabel Conde’s voice. But its echoey insistence is effective in terms of what the lyrics are saying and the structure works well. The underplayed ending is nice, too.
V: Very effective orchestral arrangement. I much prefer Ms Conde’s delivery of the verses than the chorus (and the other shouty bits), but it grabs you towards the end.

10 Turkey
B: I wonder if the lyricist’s name is actually Zeynep Talu Kurşuncu or if it’s more of a Zeynep ‘Talu’ Kurşuncu thing. “Haydi gel bir şarkı söyle bana” as the first line of what is ostensibly the chorus sounds like they just took a word from the title of every other Turkish entry and strung them together.
A: Why don’t I have a studio version? Lovely arrangement for the orchestra. Pity that Arzu Ece’s vocals sound like they’re being dragged through the verses backwards with rocks in their pockets. Takes off in the chorus nicely though. What’s most surprising about the song is how completely non-Turkish it sounds.
V: That has to be a wig, yes? Not sure what to make of this mildly more upbeat version.

11 Croatia
B: Ideas here the Huljićs would return to in Copenhagen in 2001. It would be nice if the silent violin that was playing was actually playing silently. Am I the only one to find nostalgia cloying?
A: I’m always expecting this to turn into a comedy entry after that opening. Depending on your take on it, I suppose it does. The atmosphere the strings create is right on target, but given I’m not fond of the trip-down-memory-lane thing, it does nout for me. And all too soon the arrangement simply starts treading water. The final note is amazing but not actually pleasant.
V: Those outfits are awful, and the eyebrows aren’t much better. Or the fringes. If you can overact with your hands alone, Danijela’s doing it. Sounds good though. The final note is still amazing, but still unpleasant, and in fact rather frightening.

12 France
B: My favourite line in this – “Je l’attends un peu comme le voleur attend son heure” – is precisely that because it adds a certain frisson to proceedings that the rest of it lacks. I keep waiting for the sting in the tail, but I get to the end and realise Ms Santamaria had her tail docked long before she took to the stage.
A: Murky and unimaginative. Fails to convince me on any level.
V: I’d vote for her culottes.

13 Hungary
B: Again I find the Hungarian fascinating but I’ve little else to say about these lyrics apart from the fact that there is something about them which reminds me of their 1998 entry. [Checks] And indeed the writer is one and the same: the wonderfully named Attila Horváth.
A: The piano’s lovely but boy are those vocals unattractive. Takes ages to build up any energy and by then it’s far too late.
V: Atmospheric opening, helped largely by the direction. The vocals are easier to take when you see the way Csaba delivers them.

14 Belgium
B: Fair bit of power behind these lyrics, getting it halfway to the anthem status it aspires to. I particularly like “Tu t’es pas levé pour rien”, although opening a song with a line like “La voix est libre de tout” leaves it wide open should Mr Etherlinck be anything less than perfect in the vocal department.
A: If the measuring stick of the success of your melody is how easy to predict it is from one bar to the next, they’ve done fairly well for themselves here. Pity it’s not even slightly exciting. I’d say at least 10 years out of date. The gospelesque backing vocals and acoustic climax are a boon though.
V: Hate the locks of hair jiggling on Frédéric’s brow. He’s taking himself far too seriously. There’s some uniformly terrible fashion happening on stage with the Belgians on it.

15 United Kingdom
B: The chorus is really simple and effective here, and I love the line “Keepin’ me lost for words, yeah, I know how that sounds”. The outfits on the other hand...
A: This might as well be from another planet. When and why did the UK stop giving us successful, contemporary chart acts? It encapsulates a lot of what ’90s music was about. I love it. (And there I was saying I wouldn’t give nostalgia the time of day!)
V: The camera direction here compared to Hungary is terrible, but the music sounds fantastic. The guys’ vocals are pretty weak in the chorus. The rest of the contest up to this could be from another decade.

16 Portugal
B: It would be crass not to endorse the message of these lyrics, especially when it’s presented in typically evocative style, with mel and canela and gindungo and açafrão. On paper it’s obvious why it would have won its national final, since it combines the Portuguese staples of patriotic fervour and lush poetry.
A: This just seems to reverberate for the sake of it. Tó Cruz has a great voice for the song, but the song itself never gets started. Hate the ending.
V: Terrific lead vocals, but as much as I try to like it, it really is one of those songs that makes you wonder what they were thinking.

17 Cyprus
B: I don’t know what this means. Perhaps you have to be Greek [Cypriot] to appreciate it? Borderline wanky if you ask me.
A: Fair dos though, Mr Panayi has a sexy voice. Well, I think he does. Timing here to rival anything FYR Macedonia might boast, but without the accessibility. Still, it is powerful.
V: They’re missing a table for that tablecloth at the start there. You can tell a Wella woman by the way she wears her hair apparently, and Alex clearly took his lead from whatshername from Turkey. He’s doing a good job of losing any points I might have sent his way with that almost conceitedly OTT delivery.

18 Sweden
B: What does it tell us about Sweden that composers Håkan Almqvist and Bobby Ljunggren have gone from this and Kärleken Är to the likes of Little By Little and Hero? Ms Pling has done an impressive job with the lyrics though: lots of assonance and balance.
A: Mr Johansen doesn’t have to utter a word and he does it for me: I’ll look at him whether he invites me to or not. There’s something about his voice that sells this to you – an otherwise fairly unremarkable ballad – as though you’ve been waiting to find the like of it all your life and just never realised.
V: I wonder why so many Swedish songs feature the line “I stand here alone”. He’s got five backing vocalists, after all. The juries clearly went for the more restrained songs and performances on offer in 1995.

19 Denmark
B: There’s a real sense of maturity to these lyrics, elevating it above your ordinary ballad.
A: Denmark’s best ever entry?
V: Utterly fab.

20 Slovenia
B: Hyper-romantic. The words alone tell you that it’s from the same stable as For A Thousand Years, with lots of people inside other people and what have you. I’m not sure what it would actually entail, but the idea of someone ‘glimmering in you’ is appealing.
A: Pushes all the buttons it’s meant to, and therefore works, but mostly because it sounds like any number of other such ballads. Much more palatable than its stilted sequel, but Ms Švajger’s voice still makes the hair on the back of my neck stick up here and there.
V: Kudos to her though: the vocals are flawless. It’s quite an achievement that they’re not swallowed up by the music.

21 Israel
B: We must be about due for an Israeli entry called Kibbutz or Hannukah or something since they’ve exhausted the letters of the alphabet and religious references they can use as song titles. This is Verliebt In Dich to the power of n, with an inevitable dollop of shalom-el-ha’olam. Needless to say it sets my teeth on edge.
A: Acoustic heaven (no pun intended). The arrangement is truly Israeli in its sensibilities. Despite my lack of affinity for it, the whole thing just works.
V: Israel must have a style book when it comes to Eurovision choreography, and it must be one of the shortest books ever published. They clearly live by the tenet that if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. Fabulous backing vocals (for a change) that make it sound like there’s an entire choir on stage with Liora.

22 Malta
B: The “don’t go to strangers” bit makes me think the song’s being sung for someone with an addiction to sex workers. If only a Maltese entry were that interesting! The lyrics are rather good though, relatively, in terms of not being full of the kind of English no one outside of the island nation would ever use. Having said that, “Just make it known that you’re mine” is clunky.
A: Any points this may have earned for not sounding like your usual Maltese sack of sugar are immediately deducted for the synthesised mouth organ. Pleasing intensity to the vocals.
V: A bald man works surprisingly well for Malta; they should try it more often.

23 Greece
B: Copy & paste comments re: Sweden with regard to composer Nikos Terzis. Is this song about the whole Turkey/Cyprus thing? If not, then what? And if so, why were they still going on about it? The lyrics are impressive in their way, but with a sense of taking themselves far too seriously.
A: Sounds like Deep Forest at the beginning (and indeed all the way through). It’s certainly atmospheric. Still not sure what it’s trying to say, but I like the way it’s saying it.
V: This sounds gorgeous. Elena just stands behind the microphone and emotes, which is what Mr Panayi should have been doing instead of hamming it up the whole time.

And so to the points...

1 point goes to Spain

2 points go to Sweden

3 points go to Israel

4 points go to Greece

5 points go to Austria

6 points go to Norway

7 points go to Ireland

8 points go to the United Kingdom

10 points go to Poland

and finally...

12 points go to...

Denmark!!!

The wooden spoon goes to France.

1994

2010-02-22T04:29:00.000-08:00

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

2010-02-22T03:45:00.000-08:00

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 not 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.