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*. As for the lyrics, they’re some of the most poetic to ever to have graced the Eurovision stage.
A: There’s not a single element to the composition here 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’s 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.
A: (Or the music.) 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, and yet the whole thing is very static. It isn’t helped by the direction, which Sweden would revolutionise the following year: there’s hardly a camera pan or rapid change of shot to be had here. The backing vocals are good, but Vanessa’s voice has never impressed me as much as her eyebrows have.
03 Spain
B: No quiero escuchar is one of those titles that lends itself to a song coming last. “¿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 I have a soft spot for this, despite there being 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: “Your love is stretching me” makes an interesting opening line. Fantastic rhyme and rhythm in “Ova žena zna, da ti pripada... sva”. Who knew there was an English version of this penned by someone calling himself Adonis Ćulibrk Boytronic!
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: ...in spite of the awful sound mix (on just about everything this year). Doris and her resistance-is-futile voice complete the picture. I love the way she employs her hair more effectively as a prop than the cape thing she’s wearing.
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 likes of the Pussycat Dolls, with Louise Rose here basically singing the song with four backing vocalists (one of whom would go on to be a 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. 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 verges on 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 aircraft hangar there’s so much reverb, and 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: Terry Wogan summed this up with brutal elegance when he said, “Norway brings Eurovision roaring into the ’90s... with dreadlocks!” Awful, pancake-thin vocals from Stig, although the backing singers are solid gold.
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, 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. Michael overeggs the pudding a bit, making eyes at the camera the way he does. His and Trine’s vocals blend nicely, so it’s strange that he then looks a bit peeved once it’s all over. The way the guys on backing vocals talk amongst themselves during the verses is totally Danish if 2001 was anything to go by.
10 France
B: These lyrics could come from any French entry over a period of about 25-30 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. Great last note though, in the longer studio version.
V: Nayah’s hair! That neck! The dress! Dear lord Jeebuz. The supporting singers here adopt the same approach (and outfits) as the Spaniards, to equally little effect: milling about does not amount to choreography. Overall: solid, but the way it curtails itself is blessed relief.
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: this is another very solid Dutch pop production, as neat as it is catchy.
V: There actually feels like there’s a bit of energy on stage for a change here, and Marlayne looks stunning. But 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-’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 you’d have to be deaf, blind and super-dumb to say it doesn’t work a treat.
V: Selma provides amazing vocals for such a demanding routine. The way she completely ignores every camera bar Camera 1 gets my thumbs up. If only Charlotte had sprained her neck or something, we could all have been revelling in ESC00 in Reykjavik. You have to wonder whether this will end up being as close as Iceland ever gets 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: Live, however, it’s surprisingly solid. 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 the last bit in the language for the reprise. The English version is really well attuned, too.
A: The entry that led to everyone claiming, erroneously, that Sweden had 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 mightn’t have been a runaway win, but in hindsight at least its victory was obvious.
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. The structure here is solid enough 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 30 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. It probably would have sounded rubbish 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. There are layers of arrangement here among which Ms Singer’s vocals rather commandingly tiptoe.
V: And she’s super cute to boot. As a ’60s 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’s only rivalled by All Out of Luck. The bassline draws me in instantly, as does the blend of voices, with the Butlers’ smooth vocals working a treat.
V: The dance routine goes a bit awry towards the end, but by then it’s academic. Occasionally bordering on 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.” Bless.
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, but I like their matching shoes. It’s interesting how one of the other two making up the rest of Times Three makes a big O with her mouth to produce the same sound as the other one, who purses her lips to do it.
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 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 originally beaten to the line by Corinna May.
V: A.k.a. the other Turkish entry. (See what I mean about them basically doing nothing for the first 30 seconds?) Eclectic line-up. Compared to the rest of the group, the skinny one in white is a bit of a flake.
22 Bosnia and Herzegovina
B: *Ditto what I said about Lithuania when it comes to names like Dervišhalidović. In spite of the lesson in French declination that Dino and Beatrice give us 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 Hari and his old man of the sea were sent packing as well. This is a 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 had ever been at Eurovision to this point, 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: Everything I said about Lithuania and Bosnia re: the music being entirely in tune with the words is true here, too. Effortlessly grand and celestial, underscored by the almost ethereal vocals, this is arguably the jewel in Priit Pajusaar and Glen Pilvre’s Eurovision crown.
V: This isn’t quite the vocal powerhouse I remember it being, but it loses none of its charm. Evelin is the proverbial button. They definitely saved the best stage settings till last in Jerusalem.
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.
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