01 Croatia
B: Wonderful example of Balkan brevity yet again in the lyrics.
A: Strings, piano, guitar: I need say no more. This surely ranks as Croatia’s best ever entry, whether or not they stole it. Danijela seems much more in her element here than banging on about nostalgia, lending this 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 picked five 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: I’m glad the acoustic guitar is given a more prominent place in the mix here. Ms Thalassa 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 liked 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! I 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 static and rhythmic 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: 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. Mikel Herzog’s voice would be rather like Serafin Zubiri’s if it wasn’t so thin and reedy.
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. I 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?, but it’s arguably laid on a little thick, especially with Gunvor’s breathy vocals and the backing vocalists hammering everything home the way they do. I do quite like it though.
V: Fancy Switzerland providing us with our first thing closest to a dance routine of the contest. The only thing worthy of zero points here is that white violin that Egon’s still wielding.
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, 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: 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 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: 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. But it all starts to unravel for me, with surprising speed, when the kiddy-sounding mamy-to vocals kick in. If they’d done away with them, this would just about be perfect.
V: It 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 it’s all about Ms International – who can’t sing to save herself. The last chorus is rousing though, and at least it’s all upbeat (not that it could be otherwise).
V: The middle eight’s probably the best bit of the song, but vocally it’s the weakest part of the performance. Diva is an obvious crowd-pleaser, especially playing to this audience, but it really is utter trash. The waists on Charlie’s Angels are almost insensitively narrow: I’ve always assumed the curvier one was shoved to the side 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. The [almost ironic] innocence and simplicity of the fact that “meinen Liebesbeweis” is “Nussecken und Himbeereis” is sweet.
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.
V: Brilliant! And it’s solely thanks to Italy withdrawing again that it even made it to Birmingham. I love the Katie Boyle moment.
10 Malta
B: Typically sodden, sappy Maltese lyrics from Sunny Aquilina (whose name sounds like a cut-price Romanian hatchback), but somehow they work.
A: This composition ticks all the boxes, and I love its echoey quality. You can’t go far wrong with someone of Ms Siracusa’s stature belting out a big ballad, really.
V: She might look like she’s just popped in from her temping job, but it all comes down to the voice – and while Chiara’s may 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 consider 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 loo 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 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: But the croakiness is what does it for me here. Alarmingly, the backing vocalist who isn’t Karmen Stavec looks like she’d disappear if she turned sideways.
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”.
A: I love Dawn’s voice, which adds an oomph to this that may well have been lacking had someone else sung it. But you’ve always got to worry about a song that skips to the bridge before they’ve even managed a second verse. (A casualty of the three-minute rule, I know.) Despite there being nothing very exciting about the song, I do like it.
V: However, it 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 that I can’t help 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! Well, except that it was a ukulele.
15 Romania
B: These lyrics are rather beautiful, especially “Nu ştiu să privesc / Către stele, şi-acolo să te regăsesc”. There were lots of people losing people in 1998, which is made all the sadder by knowing how things ended for poor Mălina :(
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. And “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 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. Regardless of its shortcomings, I think it’s one of the UK’s best entries: it’s simply 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 that goes a long way with me! Dutch isn’t a particularly pretty language, even when you read it, but it’s transformed in the hands of someone like Edsilia.
A: Although this is a song which the studio version tells you straight away was made to be performed live, it still represents the apotheosis of three-minute Dutch pop. The instant it goes up a key, it’s pure genius. Edsilia has one of the warmest, most gorgeous and most inviting voices I’ve ever heard.
V: Absolutely brilliant. Not even the little croak towards the end puts a dent in how good this is.
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, 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: Things get a bit too preachy in the middle eight here for my liking, but this is unquestionably one of the strongest Wallonian entries.
A: This is not as far removed from the likes of J’aime la vie as it may seem, especially with a voice like that behind it, but it’s nonetheless charming, with yet another great arrangement. Elements of it sound very Behaviour-era Pet Shop Boys.
V: Just like Chiara before her, Mélanie looks like she’s on her way to do a bit of temping in that outfit. Her voice sounds softer and somehow rounder live than in studio, and it does both 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 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 it had produced so many entries for so many countries which really were up there with the very best of them.
V: Was Dino Merlin 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: This is another lovely composition that fills your head, but what I’ve always loved most about thies song is the harmonies. And the middle bit, which is just so appropriate.
V: He’s wracked by more nerves than I remember him being. The white jacket was a mistake, but then he was from a fashion black hole that had not long emerged 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: This is quite like their 2001 entry, but even more overblown: grand on a soundtrack scale. I love it.
V: The Neanderthals may have died out, but their genes clearly live on, high on the plateaus of Anatolia. I’d happily replicate Tüzmen’s DNA. I wonder how he get his eyebrows to do that.
25 FYR Macedonia
B: The symmetry between this and Croatia as the opening and closing numbers is perfect. There’s a much bleaker and more tangible reality on display here, though.
A: The Balkan uncle Chris Isaak never met! There’s never been quite enough going on in this one way or 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. However, I love Vlado’s delivery of it, and it hints at the quality that FYRoM would fairly consistently give us hereafter.
V: I don’t know what decade they resurrected Mr Janevski from, but it wants its suit back. And they definitely 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.
No comments:
Post a Comment