01 Austria
B: The sentiments in these lyrics are nice enough, and realistic, but bland at the same time.
A: The arrangement is lovely in the introduction, and generally throughout, but as a piece of pop music this kind of forgets to go anywhere after about the minute mark. The vocals in the chorus are hard to latch onto as well. But in its defence, it does sound like something off the soundtrack of a 1980s American TV show.
V: Marty Brem looks a hell of a lot more attractive here than he did the year before as part of Blue Danube, but what’s with the girl in the gridiron helmet, and what’s going on with that choreography? All it does is underscore what a slow start to the contest this song makes, regardless of the more upbeat bits in the chorus.
02 Turkey
B: I like the way “Yaşamak oyun değil arkadaş / Dünyaya gelmenin bir bedeli var” turns your idea of what a song called The Carousel might be about pretty much on its head straight away. It’s quite philosophical actually. The lines translated as ‘Lucky are those who go up my friend / But by those who go down stand true friends’ are nevertheless worth a snigger.
A: Turkey sounds like it’s clinging on to the dying days of the ’70s for grim life. Can’t hear much of a modern folk influence in the music, or indeed anything terribly Turkish, showing that there was in fact a time when the country didn’t think you had to have belly dancing and hanky waving just because. Then again, given what I said about Austria, maybe all music around this time was faceless.
V: Good vocals live from the foursome, with a nice clean routine that seems to go down well with the audience. Glad they’d all had their teeth bleached to match their outfits. Aysegül Aldinç is quite glam; everyone else looks kinda dorky. (Extra points for the conductor: Onno Tunçboyacıyan is such a fantastic name!)
03 Germany
B: “Kinder können grausam sein” is the understatement of the century.
A: If you look for the heart of this song where it’s meant to be, you’ll find it there, but it’s still super twee. The mouth organ is not nearly as annoying as it could be though, and the music as a whole comes together very nicely, as you might expect from the stable of Ralph Siegel & Bernd Meinunger. It’s also one of those entries, so few and far between, that makes German sound quite pretty.
V: Lena Valaitis is actually Elena Valaitytė! Does that make her the first – and to this day most successful – Lithuanian on the Eurovision stage? She puts in a nice performance that makes lots of sense (compared to the studio version) and works the cameras well.
04 Luxembourg
B: I bet “Elle berce mes nuits de cafard” is the only time J-CP ever used ‘elle’ in an admission like that. I wholeheartedly concur that “l’Amérique, ce n’est pas tout”.
A: The reed instruments are lovely, but this is very much a live song.
V: Jean-Claude Pascal returns, all ears and ill-fitting dentures, 20 years after scooping the pools with Nous les amoureux. He’s a true showman with a lovely voice and a great command of the stage; but it’s obvious from the word go that this ode to music is about as old[-fashioned] as Jean-Claude himself. Great turn from the backing vocalists.
05 Israel
B: The repetition of these lyrics ties in with what they’re saying, I suppose.
A: The intro here promises something sedately discotastic. [Listens further] Indeed, it’s all building very nicely, with a great handle on harmonies and melody. If it were a bit more brash it could be Chic. [Then] Love the way it takes off around the two-minute mark. The vocals don’t sound all that convincing, it has to be said, but at the same time if Abba had done anything truly disco it probably would have sounded like this. Love the key change downwards at the end of the choruses.
V: The Israelis like their line-up singing, don’t they? It looks a bit silly with the microphone cords going everywhere. Shlomit Aharon looks like the template from which Xandee was moulded. Super cheesy straight-to-camera performance, as many from the country are. Works quite well here but lacks the incident I’d like it to have.*
06 Denmark
B: “Længe leve børn / Om de har krøller eller ej” is a simple and endearing message.
A: The vocals in the verses are slightly heavy for what they’re getting across, and the instrumental break is a bit Love Boat, but that doesn’t mean I love it any less.
V: *Speaking of which...! Exactly the energy Israel should have had. Fab! The chorus hits just the right note. I adore the way the backing vocalists look like such nerds singing this kind of song.
07 Yugoslavia
B: It’s called Lejla and he has a beard and a vaguely Middle Eastern sounding name – it must be Bosnia’s turn! And the lyrics are almost the same, too: unrequited love.
A: Musically this is about as far from its namesake as it can get, ploughing a course I would normally associate with the likes of Israel. There are nice touches to the arrangement, but it lacks anything that really holds your attention.
V: Seid-Memić, who clearly wasn’t wont to suck on a Fishermen’s Friend, brings the Yugoslavs back after a four-year break. It occasionally sounds like he’s about to break into a rendition of Leader of the Pack. He seems very cheery singing such a sad song.
08 Finland
B: Great rhythm and rhyme in some of the lines here, but Finnish still isn’t winning the language equivalent of Miss World.
A: This almost sounds like something I might want to listen to as a studio version. Does it exhibit an early use of synthesisers? Perhaps the version I have is a later remix or re-recording.
V: Live, about half of the music seems to be missing, so it struggles to find the energy it needs to make it make more sense. It just seems a bit daft and empty, and has me thinking that if “mätti joka sanoo kiitti mulle riitti”, you can call me Mätti. I suppose the accordion makes sense if they were going to do Finnish reggae. I might not like this much, but it strikes me as being perfectly of its time, if not even a little ahead. Absolutely everyone looks appalling though: definite nul points for the lack of fashion, even if it managed to scrape together enough points to make 16th.
09 France
B: These lyrics seem a bit preachy in a new-age kind of way.
A: The backing vocals as recorded here are a bit too prim for my liking, and I’m not a fan of the organ. As a composition it comes across as rather faceless for something purporting to mean so much; at least the chorus is quite catchy. Once it takes things up a notch towards the end it hits its stride, but it takes its time getting there.
V: Jean Gabilou, who looks like a slightly less exaggerated version of Marty Feldman, turns this into an altogether different when he tells it in person. This is another performance that comes together on stage much better than in studio, with fantastic vocals from start to finish. Really takes it up in my estimations.
10 Spain
B: I love the imagery of “El viento enreda tus cabellos / Como queriéndote acariciar”.
A: I like this vocal arrangement. The whole thing is put together tidily, with the language suiting the sound of it really well. It’s good to hum along to, without a lot of individual personality. In fact most of the songs this year sound like TV theme tunes and/or have a sense of familiarity about them that takes me back to when I was about 5 years old.
V: Bacchelli has legs up to here, but looks like he’s knock-kneed and puts in a static and slightly underwhelming performance. It’s still good pop though.
11 The Netherlands
B: I can hardly not mention “Jij geeft m’n leven nu voorgoed een stimulans”, can I.
A: Didn’t at least a couple of ABBA songs start exactly like this? Didn’t at least a couple of ABBA songs sound exactly like this? I expect that was the point. As with several other Dutch entries it all gets a bit street performance in parts, but you can’t really fault the production. Needs something to lift it though, as it starts to drag after a while.
V: Linda Williams looks like a Play School presenter, albeit one with fabulous shoes. Good clapping live, and the vocals are lovely, but performing it like this reveals how plodding it really is. By the end of the first chorus – i.e the opening of the song – you’re already wondering where it’s got left to go. At least the second verse, in contrast to the rest of the song, is very meaningful.
12 Ireland
B: Great couplet in “Nothing can change the way we’ve chosen to live / And no one can tell us when to take or to give”, for at least two reasons.
A: I quite like the fact that they just diss superstition here in a song that is almost as upbeat as Ireland has ever gotten in the contest. The very Swedish piano is an unlikely and welcome inclusion amidst the heavy punctuation of the strings. Once the music kicks in, however, the vocals are very hard to make out in places, whichever version you’re listening to.
V: Vocally very competent, but not at all outstanding, and it all looks like something off a cheap Mardi Gras float. Marion Fossett has amazing bone structure.
13 Norway
B: “Tiden i ensomhet er forbi” – bet he wasn’t saying that come the voting.
A: While not all that enthralling, I can’t say that this is any better or worse than most of the songs so far, so it’s a mystery why it earned Norway yet another big fat zero. I like the acoustic slant of the verses when set off against the piano and percussion of the chorus. Can’t wait to hear how they reproduce those backing vocals live without it sounding empty and/or all over the shop.
V: The stage looks lovely for this, so it’s a pity Finn looks so awful... and yes, I can kind of understand now why it failed to impress anyone.
14 United Kingdom
B: Very confusing lyrics that seem to promote monogamy and screwing around at the same time. “Don’t let your indecision / Take you from behind” indeed!
A: It’s funny how strongly we place this in an ’80s Eurovision context when in fact even for 1981 it was as retro as all get out.
V: Bit of a Marie N win here if you ask me – the first sign, perhaps, of a performance swaying the juries more than the song itself? Not that it doesn’t have a strong hook: it’s just not very interesting. And they don’t even sound that good. And the guys’ trousers are way too tight. And have you ever seen so much hair on so many heads that looks so wrong?!
15 Portugal
B: Portugal showing they have a sense of humour for about the only time in their Eurovision lives. Seems like satire, but also irony...? Not the kind of thing you’d expect from them at all, influenced, perhaps, by the previous year’s Belgian entry.
A: It’s all rather bizarre, but surprisingly engaging at the same time, with some clever stuff happening in the music.
V: Carlos, who looks neither 23 nor like a doctor, actually has a good voice, albeit one better suited to something else. I love his outfit. No one was really going to go for this when it sounds this empty. Portugal at its absolutely least Portuguese.
16 Belgium
B: What does “Samson, vergeet je wilde haren” mean? Kick Dandy would make a great spoonerism.
A: Belgium’s with Turkey in desperately trying to prove that disco isn’t dead. This is more straightforward and successful in its aims, too, although the chorus for me is the weakest part after that great bridge. Perfect vocals for this kind of song though.
V: Works well live, although it’s screaming out for a massive diva on vocals.
17 Greece
B: “Fegari kalokerino, stu erota ton urano” sounds just like Cyprus ’96, and is just as lovely.
A: Apart from the language, this is another one to add to the ‘could have come from anywhere’ pile. Funny how whenever they’ve aimed for that kind of appeal it’s never really worked for them. Still, this is very of its time, and doesn’t do anything it shouldn’t.
V: This performance really highlights the richness of the arrangement, for all the good it does. Yiannis looks like he’s wearing a judo outfit.
18 Cyprus
B: Bit saccharine and repetitive.
A: The arrangement’s pretty monotonous too: the four lines of the chorus all follow the same tune. There’s nothing about this that explains to me why it fared so well for them on their first outing. I mean, it’s easy to get a handle on, but not really for the right reasons. Maybe the live performance made all the difference?
V: More hirsute Greek men! At least one of which I wouldn’t say no to. [Actually watches the performance] Well, yes, you can see why it appealed to the typical Eurovision jury of the time. There’s no wiping the smile off the pianist’s face.
19 Switzerland
B: Fourth language out of four for this trio, with great rhythm in “Dopo la tempesta camminiamo un po’ / Sulla sabbia pesta chiacchieriamo un po’”. The lyrics generally in the verses are great, while the chorus is a bit more sentimental and self-pitying.
A: Musically it’s the verses that go on a bit, while the chorus makes up for the slight drag in the verses. The vocal pitch and echoey production qualities suit the language perfectly. Given the absence of Italy, this makes a very authentic entry in its stead, and is probably the group’s most successful. It could just be this recording, but the composition sounds super-rich without doing anything especially different to most of the other songs.
V: Peter, Sue & Marc look every one of the 10 years it’s been since their first appearance, but their persistence was worth it.
20 Sweden
B: Interesting lyrics which are very much the reverse of most, such as in “Fångad i en dröm, hålls du kvar ändå av din fantasi”.
A: I appreciate the way the arrangement here departs from the more obvious Swedish ground it treads early in the verses, and although this makes it less accessible as a melody, it’s also in keeping with what the song is saying. I can’t say I like it all that much: strings and electric guitar never work that well for me. But it was clearly a popular genre in Sweden around this time.
V: Björn Skifs pretty much doubles his tally from his previous appearance in 1978 but still only manages 10th, which I feel is justified given 1) his outfit – lilac’s not really anyone’s colour – and 2) the fact that he hardly seems to be there during the verses. Good ending though.
And so to the points…
1 point goes to Ireland
2 points go to Spain
3 points go to Portugal
4 points go to Turkey
5 points go to Germany
6 points go to Switzerland
7 points go to France
8 points go to Belgium
10 points go to Israel
and finally...
12 points go to...
Denmark!
The wooden spoon would have gone to Luxembourg, but after seeing that performance I didn’t have the heart to slap it on dear old Jean-Claude, so instead – somewhat inevitably – it goes to Austria.
No comments:
Post a Comment