01 Ireland
B: I love the idea of ‘slow morning light’, but I don’t like the whole travelling-musician-who-can’t-settle-down thing.
A: Comfortably familiar sound. The ending would be great if they’d kept it to a couple of repetitions, not four.
V: Try as the lapels and the tucked-in tablecloth might, he’s all legs. Strong performance.
02 Norway
B: Kai Eide might have wanted to apply his own logic (“Rett ditt sinn mot et annet sted”) in penning the chorus, which is as lazy as they come.
A: But surely it doesn’t make the song worthy of nil points? Slightly Beatlesy sound, or something. The strings are lovely and underscore the ‘mile after mile’ thing for me. The music suits it all pretty well actually, because of as much despite the fact that it drags on.
V: The backing vocals are too high in the mix again. Jahn Teigen’s approach is a little off-putting, and the slightly odd timing of the vocals makes you wonder early in the piece whether he’s come in too early or forgotten the words. P.S. Red pants have never been a good idea.
03 Italy
B: I love the knowing abandon inherent in “Due bambini non sarebbero mai stati / ...più impossibili di noi”.
A: This is all about the guitars, so it’s good that they’re great. Extra marks for the way it cranks up a notch so obviously following the line “Andiamo insieme... ancora piu su” after it’s already done so once so discreetly. Charmingly restrained, given how passionate it actually is. It’s easy to see why Ricchi e Poveri were so big.
V: The orchestra’s sat astride a giant rotating stingray! ReP crack an entire carton of eggs into this performance when a couple at most would have been enough, and it comes across as surprisingly twee.
04 Finland
B: Thumbs up for the irony of the Finnish sounding as clumsy and staccato as the ‘unsteady steps’ of the ‘little man’ Seija’s singing about.
A: I can’t tell whether this is deliberately understated or just boring.
V: The verses are barely even there, so I’m glad the chorus has a bit of boof about it. They don’t give you much to go on though, do they? Professional, but perfunctory.
05 Portugal
B: These lyrics alone are enough to make me take back what I’ll go on to say about Portugal 1992.
A: Mind you, it’s quite funky in a suitably kite-tugging-on-string kind of way and is imbued with the kind of childlike enthusiasm only adults can display. Knows when to call it a day, too, bless.
V: I so want to like this more than I ever actually do. It tests your patience before the end of the first chorus, and given that arrives before they’ve even reached the first verse, you know it’s going to be a long three minutes. Where it does succeed is injecting some energy into the contest, and the orchestra sounds great, so it’s not all bad.
06 France
B: 14 years early Mr Prévost says “Je connais ce sentiment” and sets Morgain’s mind at ease (see 1992 again – Ed). Rebelling against anything vaguely modern as she was, I’m sure she’d have been reassured to receive the message that fusty domesticity will get you in the end.
A: Nicely composed, with a chorus that sounds like a million others (or at least Monaco 74), which is presumably why it did so well. The rest of it’s rather dull.
V: This looks and sounds classy but is safe to the point of being unreachable, and there’s just no way the performance can do justice to the drama of the arrangement.
07 Spain
B: There are only about 10 lines of lyrics here, and the most interesting ones aren’t even in Spanish. Not that “Voulez-vous danser avec moi?” is intrinsically interesting.
A: Predictable and occasionally indolent, but the song makes this work in its favour, by throwing just enough at you to keep you occupied. The strings, as strings tend to be, are fantastic, especially when left to their own devices. In studio at least the whole thing screams ‘obvious winner’ to this point to me. Perhaps it was just too much of a throwback.
V: A little shrill in places, but whatever it does, it works in a way that the French entry didn’t.
08 United Kingdom
B: “You put all the good inside of me” is my favourite line, for obvious reasons.
A: Just as derivative as the last entry in its way, but nothing’s shown much originality thus far, so you can’t really mark it down on those grounds. Doesn’t work towards a lot in the end besides an unusually awkward-sounding key change.
V: So that’s what Shelley Long did before Cheers. I suppose the harlequin thing goes with the music; there’s no other excuse for such hideous outfits. The vocals take their time to either gel or overcome the orchestra, but when they do they sound great.
09 Switzerland
B: Cueillir would have made a much more intriguing title than Vivre.
A: How I long for Switzerland to surprise me with something fresh and interesting. This is one of their more passable (yet still fairly turgid) efforts, decently put together, but teetering constantly on melodrama. The chorus is quite strong.
V: You’d definitely think twice before getting into a relationship with Carole Vinci, whose voice I don’t like much. She seems personable enough though. Grey wasn’t the best choice of colour when you’re stood on that stage.
10 Belgium
B: Why do I suspect that ‘love puts coloured pencils in your heart’ would never make the opening line of a ballad in English?
A: All these French numbers are forming a blur, and we’ve only had three. Touch of ABBA in some of the music here*. Solid, but hardly the most exciting thing we’ve ever heard in Eurovision.
V: You know within moments of M. Vallée opening his mouth that this is the kind of song which will excite your average 1978 jury. It’s well performed, and the audience are clearly enamoured of it, but it does nout for me.
11 The Netherlands
B: Thematically this is little more than an update of their winner of three years back, but as sequels go it’s fabulous. I love the line “Streef naar wat sympathie”, which strikes me as odd.
A: *And here. Was everyone influenced by them that much or was this just what mid-to-late-’70s music was like? Voulez vous et al. It’s really rather good. Like most Dutch entries that know what they’re doing, it manages to structure itself like a song that should be much more than three minutes long without sacrificing anything in order to keep it short.
V: The stringathon in the orchestra and the half-hearted choreography strip this of the disco grandeur the studio version boasts. That said, it still sounds good.
12 Turkey
B: The idea that “sevmek ne büyük bir ülke” is nice. And true.
A: Whoever thought something so absolutely Turkish could also sound so Mamas & Papas in places. The music and the lyrics go together nicely – lots of light touches are offset by the drum and what have you, and the alternating rhythm. It’s repetitive, but that’s in keeping.
V: They look like they’ve raided the dolls’ house for their outfits, and they can’t click in time to save their lives, but they harmonise well, and the orchestra makes the most of the arrangement. The live performance doesn’t feel nearly as drawn out as the studio version does.
13 Germany
B: This shows its age in the attitude displayed by questions like “Willst du denn leben als Rühr-mich-nicht-an?” after the relatively pro-feminist first few lines. Put out now or die in miserable solitude!
A: Dzinghis Khan without the get-up? More of the ABBA sound (for lack of other points of reference). Very together if you ask me, though I can’t see Ireen Sheer pulling it off as it deserved on stage.
V: [Did she?] The percussion isn’t serving these upbeat numbers very well, but it’s nice to hear a bit of electronica. Ms Sheer is rooted to the spot by German ESC standards. As in the moment as she undoubtedly is – including being spot-on vocally** – it’s the kind of song that could do with a bit more movement to underscore it if the music isn’t going to.
**Although I can’t vouch for her accent
14 Monaco
B: Lots of nostalgia and ‘remember when’ in 1978, even for Eurovision. I love the fact that the little boy steals cherries for the little girl and all she does for his trouble is throw sand in his face!
A: Pure cheese, but at least it’s served up on a disco platter, setting it apart from its stablemates francaises. The two styles it melds go together rather well actually, but then strings and disco always do.
V: Yeah, a bit of bopping on the spot’s not really going to do it here either. This sounds even more stripped than Feuer. There’s a hint of wakka-wakka if you listen carefully, but not enough to escape the stranglehold of the strings. Normally I’d love them, but they’re a bit too stringent here for my liking. (See what I did there?)
15 Greece
B: That’s two songs in a row featuring Charlie Chaplin. At least when it’s in Greek it somehow seems more genuine, like Lithuania having a monument to Frank Zappa.
A: But come on, even the vocals sound pre-packaged. It’s all so... deliberate.
V: Fair dos to Tania: she throws herself into this and gives it her all. Mind you, it’s the kind of song that demands it if it’s going to have any hope of coming out the other end with any dignity intact.
16 Denmark
B: This gets my vote for the line “Jeg lagde mig på briksen, og han undersøgte mig” alone.
A: The prodigal son returns. This is a surprisingly unorthodox way to do so, on the whole. It descends into something a little more textbook quicker than I’d like it to, but I’d still rather listen to it again than almost all of the other songs on offer this year.
V: There’s something hugely affable about a performance where the singers are clearly enjoying themselves and not taking it too seriously, without throwing it away. Plus it sounds great.
17 Luxembourg
B: I only have the English version, but the best lines are of course in French, from the simplest (“Hmm... formidable, Maria!”) to the more suggestive (“Voila c’est une chance d’un cours de vacances”). Honni soit qui mal y pense!
A: So gloriously airheaded. Even if it was produced by the same people, it’s still plagiarism, just without anyone to sue you. The guitar’s brilliant. I assume it sounded nothing like this live, and probably nowhere near as fabulous.
V: [Watches] I wasn’t expecting this to be anywhere near as together or professional as it is. It’s easily the best-sounding up-tempo number of the night. Love it.
18 Israel
B: I could tell a “Keshehayinu yeladim / Ahavnu besodei sodot” story of my own, but that’s not for here...
A: A return to the upbeat winners of the mid-’70s after the slightly less upbeat aberration that was L’oiseau et l’enfant. Absolute nonsense, of course, but since when was that an impediment? Relentless, too. Great break.
V: The orchestra finally seems to have hit its stride. This is shorn of the excesses many Israeli entries sink under the weight of and just concentrates on selling itself for what is – and does so very effectively.
19 Austria
B: The lyrics to the English version are as bland as the German ones are odd. Talk about “...niemand kann verstehen / Warum, weshalb...”.
A: I hate the way they pronounce Caroline like they’re about to say ‘kerosene’. Quite catchy though, all told.
V: I ought to be able to say the same things about this as I said about Denmark, but I can’t.
20 Sweden
B: Wonderfully wrought, these lyrics, in every sense of the word.
A: If Mr Skifs is depressed, the music does a very good job of hiding it. I assumed this would be much more tortured, although the last two lines of the chorus – my favourites – go some way to underlining it. Still doesn’t sit well with me overall.
V: This whole performance is pitched wrong, if you ask me, as an alarming number of Swedish entries have been. Equally alarming is the camel’s foot Björn’s sporting, and that he looks like he’s reading the words off the piano keys. He clearly fancies himself as something of a comedian, which is incongruous given the song he then proceeds to sing. A damp squib to end the contest on, all told.
And so to the points…
1 point pour l’Irelande
2 points pour la Turquie
3 points pour l’Italie
4 points pour le Portugal
5 points pour l’Allemagne
6 points pour l’Espagne
7 points pour la Danmark
8 points pour les Pays Bas
10 points pour l’Israel
et finalmente...
12 points pour...
Luxembourg!
The wooden spoon goes to Greece.
No comments:
Post a Comment