01 Portugal
B: I love the imagery here, especially the use of “fumo subindo no ar”, although I’d prefer the despondency and indifference to last: the lyrics are a little on the brief side to go from “oh no, it’s over!” to “yay, it’s back!” so soon.
A: This is altogether more psychedelic in parts than I expected it to be, and it’s those parts that stand out from the more plodding verses. A bit uneven all told, but I like it.
V: Release the turtles! Or at least their sweaters. Carlos Mendes certainly looks better without the beard. The jiggly performance is a little off-putting. I love the way he spends the instrumental break looking around the hall.
02 The Netherlands
B: I don’t really get these lyrics. Is the wife thing a metaphor?
A: Nice woodwind and piano, although this feels uneven as well, with the percussion slapped on top of the orchestra. Struggles for an accessible tune, too.
V: Fine performance. Nice colour coordination as well, although we’re only two songs in and already there’s a lack of variety in the fashion. Very flattering cut on the suit, incidentally: it makes Ronnie look both broader-shouldered and narrower-waisted than he probably was. He was a bit of alright, really, wasn’t he? If you dig that late ’60s look on a man.
03 Belgium
B: I suppose Ms Lombard had little choice but to go for the vacant Rapunzel look with lyrics like those. “En filant la laine dans mes beaux atours / En bordant ma peine de doux fils d’amour” is nice.
A: Ooh, this is ethereal. I love the way the vocals sound like an extension of the music rather than an accompaniment to it*. Definitely an I’m-locked-in-a-tower-come-rescue-me kind of song. I’m most pleased by the fact that it’s so understated.
V: Lovely, if a little blank.
04 Austria
B: Udo Jürgens didn’t know when to leave well alone, did he. I can associate with what the lyrics are saying here, which either makes it well ahead of its time or shows that things never change. Or perhaps the whole thing’s some quiet political dig about the situation in Mr Gott’s native Czechoslovakia and therefore there’s some socialist isolation resonance between it and the mindset that still prevails here in Estonia?
A: *Whereas these strings and vocals live completely separate lives, despite being designed to complement each other’s melodrama. It’s all laid on a bit too thick for my liking.
V: On stage as in studio. Gott has a good voice, but he’s not the most captivating of performers.
05 Luxembourg
B: “Je lis ma vie au fond de tes yeux” etc. Yawn.
A: I really can’t stand the way Mr Baldo delivers this: it’s so fake and uninspired. Lazy arrangement, too.
V: Ooh, nice dress! Pity he’s not wearing it: I might find something to like about him. Poor Sophie looks like someone who’s being forced to sing karaoke when they really rather wouldn’t.
06 Switzerland
B: Not sure what Mr Mascolo’s on about here, to be honest.
A: This almost sounds like it could have been the theme tune to a soap opera, in the first chorus at least. Gianni is clearly affected by his subject matter, whatever it is.
V: Not sure orange was quite what I had in mind in terms of mixing up the fashion. I like the performance – it really lifts the song.
07 Monaco
B: Luxembourg and Monaco liked these couples-for-hire, didn’t they. Why do I suspect this song won’t be one of the “refrains sans façons” they sing the praises of?
A: Well, it might not be forced, but it’s certainly nothing new, and it’s mildly irritating. Given what it’s trying to be, it simply doesn’t work.
V: Nice vocals, but the song really has no personality of its own.
08 Sweden
B: Wonderful conversational lyrics in which I love little things like “tänka sej” and revelations like ding meaning ‘stupid’ and snyftare meaning ‘tear-jerker’. Not to mention the nudge-nudge naughtiness of the opening line.
A: More personality than everything else rolled into one. Needless to say I think it’s fabulous. Claes-Göran has a voice that makes me understand why girls used to go weak at the knees in the presence of their idols.
V: The way he keeps licking his lips is adorable! And the way he underplays the whole thing is brilliant.
09 Finland
B: “Ei enempää - ei vähempää, kun lähempää sun nähdä vain saan” makes an unexpectedly attractive opening line to the Finnish entry. The verses aren’t matched by the chorus, sadly, and reading them makes me wonder whether the clocks have in fact stopped.
A: Scratch what I said about the opening line: this is another Finnish entry in which the language is given centre stage and dies a horrible death, thanks to Kristina Hautala’s all too precise diction. The piano works best in the composition, I think; in places it seems like they’ve forgotten to add some music.
V: The arrangement comes across much better live, although I still can’t really overcome Ms Hautala’s voice in combination with all those Ys and Ös. She has a fab dress though.
10 France
B: Ms Coquerelle returns and finds herself in the shake-up once more. Who would have thought it would be with a murder ballad! I love the fact that a token browse of the lyrics produces mousse, soufflé and herbs in a song which, to the untrained ear, could well be called The Sauce.
A: Where’s the drama – the stabbing strings and the rampant percussion? Have I misunderstood the lyrics? I was hoping for something much bloodier, or at least solemn, but instead we get an altogether more sanguine three minutes of musical story-telling that wouldn’t be out of place if Bambi were bounding through the forest without a care in the world. The arrangement is lovely, and Isabelle Aubret’s vocals delightful, but if you’re singing a song that hints at rape and homicide, I’d like a little more depth to it. Even if it’s meant to reflect the innocence of the poor girl, what happened when she was violated? Was she oblivious? Did they slip her a Rohypnol?**
V: Well, at least there are elements of drama in Isabelle’s expression. Still not convinced. I’m not sure the hairstyle is doing her a lot of favours, and her dress looks like a nightie.
**Am I expecting too much of a 1960s Eurovision entry?
11 Italy
B: “Mi fai felice per un attimo / Poi non vivo più” is a backhanded compliment if ever there was one. I like the inversion of the usual scenario, with the man pining for the girl for a change. Sergio Endrigo sounds more of a Spanish than an Italian name.
A: Perfectly competent without being in any way exciting, and it’s another one which sounds like it wants to be contemporary but can’t get the orchestra off its back.
V: Sergio has an interestingly shaped mouth, like he normally has a Lady Finger banana lodged sideways in it. He gives a professional but dull performance in which the modern touches to the song are jettisoned altogether.
12 United Kingdom
B: There’s something simple and effective about these lyrics that goes a long way to explaining the song’s iconic status.
A: Ditto about the music.
V: Have I really gone this long without realising that Austin Powers was based entirely on Cliff Richard? Interesting that they eschew the S in ‘congratulation’ and ‘celebration’. I wonder why.
13 Norway
B: The composer and the lyricist of the previous year’s Dukkemann return, and considering I described that as a “decent enough song, but come the end of it, it just makes me shrug” I can only hope this impresses me more. [Reads lyrics] Now that’s poetry!
A: Love the organ. This is truly experimental by Eurovision standards. If it wasn’t for the slightly pedestrian vocal arrangement in parts and if it had kookier lyrics it might have a B-52’s feel to it.
V: Lacks a bit of oomph live, vocally, but not because Odd can’t sing. His legs go on forever, which the cummerbund only emphasises, and his inch-thick black-rimmed spectacles lend him a kind of Clark Kent, hotter-without-’em appeal.
14 Ireland
B: And there I was waiting for the Mysterious Woman-style twist at the end confirming that, indeed, Mr McGeegan did end up leading a lonely life with only Mrs Palm and her five sisters for company. Alas no.
A: Not even remotely remarkable.
V: Dark green with pale yellow has never worked. Pat reminds me slightly of Chris Doran, and the song’s about as exciting.
15 Spain
B: It took more than one person to write these lyrics? I’d laugh if one of them was credited with the verses and the other with the chorus. For what it’s worth it comes across as state-sanctioned propaganda and something more subversive at the same time, at least on paper. But without Juan Manuel Serrat at the helm, and sung in Spanish rather than Catalan, it may have lost any sense of the latter for all I know.
A: Why is Massiel held in such esteem? It’s not like she has a voice that’s capable of doing much more than hold a tune. It has all the subtlety and variation of this refrain. Perhaps Franco did have a hand in its win after all.
V: I’d hold my head too if I had to produce that chorus. The lampshade dress is nice.
16 Germany
B: This is rather cosmopolitan, composed by a Pole, performed by a Norwegian and cheesy in an almost exclusively German way. Pity for them that the la-la-la break comes straight after that Spanish chorus.
A: Does what it says on the packet. By the halfway mark I feel like I’ve already heard the chorus a dozen times. No more interesting than Spain, really.
V: All credit to her: she injects the energy and appeal into the song that the orchestra fails to bring to it. Was the rule in 1968 that the backing vocalists had to be three ladies with bouffants in mini-dresses?
17 Yugoslavia
B: Are they wearing tights? I’m surprised by the frequency with which the last songs of the night form some kind of random counterpart to the opener or share themes with other earlier entries. Here the lyrics don’t say a whole lot but still overlap with a handful of other songs from 1968.
A: Sounds like a medieval children’s song. That makes it cheery, but also repetitive and lacking in imagination somewhat. Like many Eurovision songs.
V: The backing vocals and melodies are great. Pity Mr Kapurso’s flute solo is drowned out. He and Mr Hajdarhodžić look like all they want to be doing there at the end is dancing with each other but don’t dare to let their fingers intertwine.
And so to the points...
1 point goes to Spain
2 points go to Italy
3 points go to Portugal
4 points go to the Netherlands
5 points go to Switzerland
6 points go to Norway
7 points go to France
8 points go to the Belgium
10 points go to the United Kingdom
and finally...
12 points go to...
Sweden!
The wooden spoon goes to Luxembourg.
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