Far more than 10 songs deserve to get points, but that’s inevitable in a field this big.
01 Austria
B: Some great touches to the lyrics here: “El ritmo puro de la música alpina” could be self–deprecating in context, but the music proves otherwise, and the line with the yodelling in it is clever stuff. I love the fact that the writing team behind it is Köhldorfer & Spörk, and that the cute guy’s name is Sebastian Fuchsberger. Give me two of his all-beef patties with some special sauce any day.
A: Did this come anywhere close to winning the award for best composition in 2005? It deserves to have. There are so many fantastic touches it’s hard to pick one that I love more than the others, but the little bit leading into the second verse is brilliant. The whole thing’s just so clever. Austria has rarely done better than this.
V: Lovely relaxed performance, if a little too relaxed in parts – the pace quickly seems to slacken. The stage looks fantastic from the off.
02 Lithuania
B: Blah lyrics.
A: Blah everything, really. This is by no means incompetent, but it is completely dull. The way those opening bars drop into the first verse so brutally, you just know this is Swedish. Unfortunately, it doesn’t feature that other trademark of a disconnected chorus with a fantastic hook, and the overall sense is very much of something shipped off to another country because no one at home would touch it. Humanitarian aid past its use-by date, that kind of thing.
V: The lack of enthusiasm with which the audience greets the Lithuanian entry says it all. Everything about this is Swedish except the one thing that needs to be, and as a result the performance rivals Germany’s in the fake and lacklustre stakes. Laura’s vocals just aren’t there.
03 Portugal
B: I had no idea this came from the same composer as Lusitana paixão. I have no idea either what the lyrics are about – plastic surgery perhaps (“Brand new kind of face, I love you anyway”). I do like the line “Só quem não quer amar / Olha sem ver”.
A: There’s a real build to this, and the production is very atmospheric. I don’t think the vocals really come together until the chorus; the arrangement tends to sound odd in the verses. Luciana’s voice I can take or leave, but Rui Drumond’s has something to it which adds to the song.
V: The power of the music just ebbs away completely in this performance, which is refreshingly (but also overly) busy for Portugal. Not a single element of it works, and it’s scarred by one of the worst sound mixes in the history of the contest, rivalling anything 2004 produced in that particular race to the bottom.
04 Moldova
B: Vibrant and zany. I could start a catalogue of quotes of stuff I love here, but I’ll restrict myself to idolising “pop you up with that beat”, “you are [a] slapping queen” and “by the end of [the] show you will blow yourself to bits”.
A: Another very impressive and multi-layered arrangement, which fits in with the animated feel of the verses. I’m still surprised any country would go for something like this on their debut, but it pointed to the way the contest had changed, and needless to say I’m chuffed they did.
V: It was always going to win people over, wasn’t it, like some completely mad but endearing relative. Frenetic camerawork aside, the final performance is even more together than in the semi.
05 Latvia
B: “I’m so sorry I’m so helpless in this angry world / ... / If only we would start [to] believe in dreams / Believe in who we are.” Oh, fuck off.
A: The fact that Mārtiņš Freimanis was happy to reveal this took him about 10 minutes to write says a lot. Credit where it’s due though, worse songs have been written in more time, and I suppose the point of pop is to be uncomplicated. The vocals are effective with this kind of echoey production, although introducing the percussion halfway through is a little too obvious a step for my liking. The ending is very Annie Lennox in Diva phase.
V: Why do so many Latvian performances almost instantly get my back up? The blonde one looks like a turtle trying to retract its head into its shell, sat on that stool. I wonder if Eurovision’s deaf audience appreciated their signing. They certainly wouldn’t have appreciated their singing. [Come Saturday...] Much better in the final, at least in terms of their vocals.
06 Monaco
B: As usual, the French lyrics are a thing of beauty without really saying much. I’m not sure what “Et si les dieux sont contre nous / Alors je serais marabout” means, but I like it.
A: I’m thinking 40, possibly 50 years out of time. I love an orchestral arrangement though, and this one is lush. There’s something huge but entirely unpretentious about it. The final minute is a triumph.
V: Wow, I’d forgotten how beautiful she looked and sounded. There’s something surreal about Monaco’s short-lived return to Eurovision, like it never really happened, and for what it’s worth it might as well not have given the results they achieved. This, though, deserved better. For the camerawork alone if nothing else.
07 Israel
B: Beautiful Hebrew lyrics, with classic lines like “Noshemet li mimkha vehata’am kvar mar”. The English lyrics don’t exude the same poetry, but they still suit the song – and the emotional transformation Shiri undergoes in performing it – perfectly.
A: This stands out simply for being a straightforward ballad from a country that would normally produce drowsy anthems or political statements set to music. But it sets itself apart in a hundred other ways, too. (I don’t need to list them, do I.)
V: Ms Darly is knocked into a cocked hat by Ms Maimon, despite the fact that she gives a flawless demonstration here in the semi of her quality of being about half a note off for almost the entire duration of the song. She still sends shivers down my spine though. [Later] On song from the off in the final, like some gorgeous, blonde, all-singing Wonder Woman.
08 Belarus
B: More Greek credentials than the Greek entry. I suppose this was the lesser of two evils, given the other option was Boys and Girls. “So take your chance and feel me / I’m ready now” is not an invitation one receives terribly often, sadly.
A: From the word go, you can tell she couldn’t sing her way out of a paper bag. I much prefer this studio version to the one they used in Ukraine with all that farty brass and synths, but that’s still relative: this takes trashy to new levels, and not in a good way.
V: Fabulous outfits. Excruciating vocals.
09 The Netherlands
B: When you strip this song of Glennis Grace’s vocals, all you’re left with is a set of lyrics that’s as tired as the music it’s set to. They’re little more than a string of clichés.
A: See, this is big in a pompous way where Monaco isn’t, at least for me; like it thinks it actually has something to say. I was impressed by it originally, but I can’t for the life of me think why now. That was the trap we all fell into, I suppose.
V: Terrific vocals, as you might expect, but the whole thing’s very sub-Whitney.
10 Iceland
B: I love the listing of “Fast asleep, wide awake, every step / Every move I make”. Pity the latter turned out to be so ham-fisted.
A: Fabulous opening. I love a composition that surprises you without feeling disconnected: here the way the music shifts and changes almost seems organic. Þorvaldur Bjarni Þorvaldsson’s credentials are obvious when he’s got this, All Out of Luck and Congratulations on his CV.
V: So much is squandered here. The false start is rather appropriate, in hindsight, and the cameras fail to catch just about anything that might take the edge off it. Sigh.
11 Belgium
B: There’s only so much soir I can take, to be honest. “Ce soir, tous ces regards / Là dans le noir, la peur et l’espoir” makes you wonder where the lyricist drew his inspiration from.
A: Arguably the least overstated of its ilk in Kyiv, but that is also its undoing. Still, I never have anything against listening to it all the way through, as it has a certain pull. And I’ve always liked the way the last 20 seconds make it sound like they’re branching out into a completely different song.
V: Vocals of the night so far. The stage, lighting and camerawork are all pleasingly muted.
12 Estonia
B: “Bold and beautiful ain’t our theme tonight” is an understatement. I pointed out to ETV that these lyrics were shit, and they passed on my suggestions to Sven Lõhmus, but he was either too proud to change them or didn’t care.
03 Portugal
B: I had no idea this came from the same composer as Lusitana paixão. I have no idea either what the lyrics are about – plastic surgery perhaps (“Brand new kind of face, I love you anyway”). I do like the line “Só quem não quer amar / Olha sem ver”.
A: There’s a real build to this, and the production is very atmospheric. I don’t think the vocals really come together until the chorus; the arrangement tends to sound odd in the verses. Luciana’s voice I can take or leave, but Rui Drumond’s has something to it which adds to the song.
V: The power of the music just ebbs away completely in this performance, which is refreshingly (but also overly) busy for Portugal. Not a single element of it works, and it’s scarred by one of the worst sound mixes in the history of the contest, rivalling anything 2004 produced in that particular race to the bottom.
04 Moldova
B: Vibrant and zany. I could start a catalogue of quotes of stuff I love here, but I’ll restrict myself to idolising “pop you up with that beat”, “you are [a] slapping queen” and “by the end of [the] show you will blow yourself to bits”.
A: Another very impressive and multi-layered arrangement, which fits in with the animated feel of the verses. I’m still surprised any country would go for something like this on their debut, but it pointed to the way the contest had changed, and needless to say I’m chuffed they did.
V: It was always going to win people over, wasn’t it, like some completely mad but endearing relative. Frenetic camerawork aside, the final performance is even more together than in the semi.
05 Latvia
B: “I’m so sorry I’m so helpless in this angry world / ... / If only we would start [to] believe in dreams / Believe in who we are.” Oh, fuck off.
A: The fact that Mārtiņš Freimanis was happy to reveal this took him about 10 minutes to write says a lot. Credit where it’s due though, worse songs have been written in more time, and I suppose the point of pop is to be uncomplicated. The vocals are effective with this kind of echoey production, although introducing the percussion halfway through is a little too obvious a step for my liking. The ending is very Annie Lennox in Diva phase.
V: Why do so many Latvian performances almost instantly get my back up? The blonde one looks like a turtle trying to retract its head into its shell, sat on that stool. I wonder if Eurovision’s deaf audience appreciated their signing. They certainly wouldn’t have appreciated their singing. [Come Saturday...] Much better in the final, at least in terms of their vocals.
06 Monaco
B: As usual, the French lyrics are a thing of beauty without really saying much. I’m not sure what “Et si les dieux sont contre nous / Alors je serais marabout” means, but I like it.
A: I’m thinking 40, possibly 50 years out of time. I love an orchestral arrangement though, and this one is lush. There’s something huge but entirely unpretentious about it. The final minute is a triumph.
V: Wow, I’d forgotten how beautiful she looked and sounded. There’s something surreal about Monaco’s short-lived return to Eurovision, like it never really happened, and for what it’s worth it might as well not have given the results they achieved. This, though, deserved better. For the camerawork alone if nothing else.
07 Israel
B: Beautiful Hebrew lyrics, with classic lines like “Noshemet li mimkha vehata’am kvar mar”. The English lyrics don’t exude the same poetry, but they still suit the song – and the emotional transformation Shiri undergoes in performing it – perfectly.
A: This stands out simply for being a straightforward ballad from a country that would normally produce drowsy anthems or political statements set to music. But it sets itself apart in a hundred other ways, too. (I don’t need to list them, do I.)
V: Ms Darly is knocked into a cocked hat by Ms Maimon, despite the fact that she gives a flawless demonstration here in the semi of her quality of being about half a note off for almost the entire duration of the song. She still sends shivers down my spine though. [Later] On song from the off in the final, like some gorgeous, blonde, all-singing Wonder Woman.
08 Belarus
B: More Greek credentials than the Greek entry. I suppose this was the lesser of two evils, given the other option was Boys and Girls. “So take your chance and feel me / I’m ready now” is not an invitation one receives terribly often, sadly.
A: From the word go, you can tell she couldn’t sing her way out of a paper bag. I much prefer this studio version to the one they used in Ukraine with all that farty brass and synths, but that’s still relative: this takes trashy to new levels, and not in a good way.
V: Fabulous outfits. Excruciating vocals.
09 The Netherlands
B: When you strip this song of Glennis Grace’s vocals, all you’re left with is a set of lyrics that’s as tired as the music it’s set to. They’re little more than a string of clichés.
A: See, this is big in a pompous way where Monaco isn’t, at least for me; like it thinks it actually has something to say. I was impressed by it originally, but I can’t for the life of me think why now. That was the trap we all fell into, I suppose.
V: Terrific vocals, as you might expect, but the whole thing’s very sub-Whitney.
10 Iceland
B: I love the listing of “Fast asleep, wide awake, every step / Every move I make”. Pity the latter turned out to be so ham-fisted.
A: Fabulous opening. I love a composition that surprises you without feeling disconnected: here the way the music shifts and changes almost seems organic. Þorvaldur Bjarni Þorvaldsson’s credentials are obvious when he’s got this, All Out of Luck and Congratulations on his CV.
V: So much is squandered here. The false start is rather appropriate, in hindsight, and the cameras fail to catch just about anything that might take the edge off it. Sigh.
11 Belgium
B: There’s only so much soir I can take, to be honest. “Ce soir, tous ces regards / Là dans le noir, la peur et l’espoir” makes you wonder where the lyricist drew his inspiration from.
A: Arguably the least overstated of its ilk in Kyiv, but that is also its undoing. Still, I never have anything against listening to it all the way through, as it has a certain pull. And I’ve always liked the way the last 20 seconds make it sound like they’re branching out into a completely different song.
V: Vocals of the night so far. The stage, lighting and camerawork are all pleasingly muted.
12 Estonia
B: “Bold and beautiful ain’t our theme tonight” is an understatement. I pointed out to ETV that these lyrics were shit, and they passed on my suggestions to Sven Lõhmus, but he was either too proud to change them or didn’t care.
A: Flat, unimaginative and horribly insistent music, which is ironically appropriate.
V: LOL at the “Estoniya – woooooo!” some random woman screams at the start. Dana ‘token Black one’ Ots is the only member of Suntribe who looks natural; Jaanika Vilipo looks like an Oompa-Loompa in drag. Until the middle eight their collective vocals are more together than I’d given them credit for, but that’s not saying much. “Elagu Eesti!” (‘long live Estonia’) they shout at the end, but I’d rather put the country out of its misery if this is the best it can come up with.
V: LOL at the “Estoniya – woooooo!” some random woman screams at the start. Dana ‘token Black one’ Ots is the only member of Suntribe who looks natural; Jaanika Vilipo looks like an Oompa-Loompa in drag. Until the middle eight their collective vocals are more together than I’d given them credit for, but that’s not saying much. “Elagu Eesti!” (‘long live Estonia’) they shout at the end, but I’d rather put the country out of its misery if this is the best it can come up with.
13 Norway
B: “Love is all over me” as a hook is lascivious, and therefore gets my thumbs up. If they were going for a total ’80s feel with the lyrics, they couldn’t have been more spot-on.
A: Like I said at the time, they open the song with exactly the right bit, and after that you can’t help but go along for the ride. I stand by my view that it’s one of the most together productions and complete packages of the year.
V: Crowd-pleaser from about three seconds in. They’re a bit like your dad’s favourite band from before you were born.
14 Romania
B: Let’s be honest – it’s not about the words, is it?
A: It’s not much about the music either, as bombastic and fabulous as it is.
V: It’s all about the performance. Without doubt Romania’s shrewdest entry, despite Luminiţa’s tin-foil corset. Her voice has such projection and she has to hold the microphone so far from her mouth that it looks like she’s miming. Sistem are dressed a bit oddly: with the fixtures and fittings, it’s like a blue-collar gay disco in a radioactive-waste warehouse.
15 Hungary
B: Lyrics full of odd concepts which are sufficiently evocative to cancel out the impact of the na-na-na bits. I like the awareness in “Vad éjszakád / Megöl, bár csókkal vár”.
A: Drive, depth and subtlety. And clapping! Love it.
V: Silvia Szabó, you are the weakest link. Goodbye. Thank God she smiles when she dances. Amazing routine.
16 Finland
B: Two things make these lyrics more palatable than The War Is Not Over: they’re not being sung by a duo of gormless teens, and they sound better. I particularly like the couplet “Morning breaks with the news of violence / Nothing moves in the haze of silence”, although parts of the rest of it are still a bit OTT.
A: Fantastic vocals, and the piano and acoustics are great, too. By the end though it’s a bit like a deflated soufflé – it rises nicely, but then there’s just a bit too much hot air and pop! It’s gone.
V: Ouch, it’s a total styling disaster. Brilliant vocals though.
V: It’s all about the performance. Without doubt Romania’s shrewdest entry, despite Luminiţa’s tin-foil corset. Her voice has such projection and she has to hold the microphone so far from her mouth that it looks like she’s miming. Sistem are dressed a bit oddly: with the fixtures and fittings, it’s like a blue-collar gay disco in a radioactive-waste warehouse.
15 Hungary
B: Lyrics full of odd concepts which are sufficiently evocative to cancel out the impact of the na-na-na bits. I like the awareness in “Vad éjszakád / Megöl, bár csókkal vár”.
A: Drive, depth and subtlety. And clapping! Love it.
V: Silvia Szabó, you are the weakest link. Goodbye. Thank God she smiles when she dances. Amazing routine.
16 Finland
B: Two things make these lyrics more palatable than The War Is Not Over: they’re not being sung by a duo of gormless teens, and they sound better. I particularly like the couplet “Morning breaks with the news of violence / Nothing moves in the haze of silence”, although parts of the rest of it are still a bit OTT.
A: Fantastic vocals, and the piano and acoustics are great, too. By the end though it’s a bit like a deflated soufflé – it rises nicely, but then there’s just a bit too much hot air and pop! It’s gone.
V: Ouch, it’s a total styling disaster. Brilliant vocals though.
17 FYR Macedonia
B: I like the inversion of the man struggling out from under the thumb of the woman, but putting a more positive spin on it would probably have made more sense and certainly have been easy enough.
A: Way better than the original, which is true of all Macedonian entries really. The verses remain plodding and ambition-free until the bridge, which has some amusing sound effects when you listen for them. The instrumental break finally gives the song some focus.
V: Shit dancing from absolutely everyone \o/
18 Andorra
B: Another poetic entry from Andorra. “Ves i explora dins del teu univers interior” leaves itself entertainingly open to interpretation.
A: It’s immediately obvious with this song that it has a purpose, if you know what I mean. It’s grand and theatrical in a way that’s unexpected and unexpectedly effective, especially when offset by that middle eight. The integrity is admirable.
V: Not that this was a sow’s ear to start with, but they certainly made a silk purse out of it. Anabel Conde’s breakdown aside.
19 Switzerland
B: It’s uncanny that a set of lyrics penned by Bernd Meinunger resonates so strongly of Vanilla Ninja’s bread-and-butter stuff. I’ve no idea what they mean.
A: Surprising how perfectly pitched it is, too.
V: It’s interesting to see them halfway between styles here. They were never going to replicate the studio version’s angelic chorus, but that doesn’t excuse the half-hearted attempt we do get. Lenna Kuurmaa, needless to say, is fantastic.
V: It’s interesting to see them halfway between styles here. They were never going to replicate the studio version’s angelic chorus, but that doesn’t excuse the half-hearted attempt we do get. Lenna Kuurmaa, needless to say, is fantastic.
20 Croatia
B: Wolves Die Alone isn’t the most upbeat of titles, but it reflects an impressively dark set of lyrics, with lines like “Tišina k’o sidro veže mrak” and “K’o lišće sam, vjetar me raznosi” standing out. No wonder composer Franjo Valentić went from this to Moja štikla.
A: That opening is about as Macedonian (or by extension Albanian) as any of the other former Yugoslav republics have gotten at Eurovision. The music is brilliant at pulling you along with it: there’s a real tug to the composition.
V: Oops, I was singing along and forgot to type anything. [Later] I’d forgotten what an unnecessary distraction the hand-standing, foot-clapping drummer is.
21 Bulgaria
B: “Lorraine in the rain” deserves a slap, but “Whispering your name again / Singing prayers among the stars” is lovely.
A: Yet another surprising debut, for all sorts of reasons. This is just as authentic and uncompromising as Moldova. The arrangement is fantastic, and the sound effects are a simple touch that works well.
V: The lead singer is just too good-looking for words, and he’s not even my type. He puts in a classy vocal performance for someone who is, or was, actually a dancer. The stage looks fantastic with its tortoise-shell effect.
22 Ireland
B: 90% of this is eye-rollingly self-important, but I love the middle verse (“If you want it, come and get it / Even though you know the score”).
A: Why does anything uptempo from Ireland tend to sound so strange? The harmonies here are great, voices aside. The Riverdance bit doesn’t work in studio.
V: Donna gets points for her gutsy vocals. Joe gets my sympathy for looking like such an incurable dork. As an ensemble they earn my respect for filling the stage and the screen, although much of the praise here must go to the lighting director.
23 Slovenia
B: Slovene often sounds a little clunky and unattractive to me, but there are lines here – “Zakaj se oba pretvarjava?” and “Kot prah obriši me, pod prsti zruši vse” – where I’m forced to revise my opinion.
A: I love the way Omar delivers this. Classy effort from Slovenia, which is not something we often got to say about their entries up to this point. Fantastic ending.
V: Has anyone ever given such a Joey-from-Friends performance at Eurovision, or looked the part more? God love him and his boss-eyed opera-singing friend.
24 Denmark
B: “You nailed me to the floor with just one look” makes for a great opening line. I still prefer the Danish version, but I’ve warmed to what we got.
A: Amazing piano. Amazing everything when you absorb it through headphones. As is normal for Danish entries, there’s something very cosy about the arrangement.
V: There’s a tremendous sense of confidence in this performance, and the stage hasn’t looked this good all night. [Later] It still hasn’t looked this good all night!
25 Poland
B: “Hajda wy bystre konie / Nieście nas z całych sił – aha!” is a bit of a wink-wink, nudge-nudge moment.
A: I don’t know whether the Roma feel to this is authentic, but it’ll do. It makes for one of the most uptempo Eurovision entries ever.
V: There’s a bit too much going on here for it to work, but I like it, and it’s clear they left the best stage designs to the end of the night. Ivan could pass himself off as Eric Roberts from the right angle.
26 United Kingdom
B: Kudos to Ms Hylton for penning her own lyrics. I especially like the verse openers “Do you really wanna feel my flow” and “Are you easy come and easy go”.
A: This seemed like such a good idea at the time, but when you listen to it now it’s pretty empty, and not in a minimalist-but-effective kind of way. There’s only so much room on the playing field in this genre: the Balkans have most of it, and France gets a look in, but the UK is squeezed out here, even though there’s no real reason it should be. Though the rest of it leaves me (ironically) cold, the middle eight – where it still sounds to me like everything else has just been the intro to some massive house remix – is great.
V: You wouldn’t pick this for a British entry in a million years. Javine always puts me in mind of those hopeless bints who’d get eliminated in the first or second week of America’s Next Top Model: the ones who have the look and the attitude, but stick ’em in front of a camera and the only clue they have is the one given to them. In this case her instructions were clearly to flash her ring in as crass and obvious a way as possible before exiting the stage.
27 Malta
B: Simple and effective, like The One That I Love.
A: Simple and effective and better than The One That I Love.
V: Simple and effective and more immediate than The One That I Love.
28 Turkey
B: Some of these lyrics go a long way to explaining why Gülseren comes across the way she does: “Müptela olmuş, dönmüşüm şaşkına” and “Acınası bak şu deli halim” in particular. Others show that the song is rather downbeat, despite everything: “Aşk değil bu, sanki bir ceza bana” and “Sonunda yine beni mahvedensin”. Bearing all of this in mind, what we end up with is strangely appropriate.
A: This still sounds like music to a ‘Visit Turkey’ commercial to me, but with no sense of going anywhere.
V: Settle down, dear! It’s like some Aztec kung fu-cum-tai chi workshop at the beginning, before turning into a drum display at a Greek taverna worthy of the Orient. It’s mad, but also the best use of six people and a handful of props to fill a stage in a long time.
29 Albania
B: Sidorela is a nice name. Her lyrics are quite nice, too.
A: I’m not sure why this takes so long to do anything; perhaps because the chorus is so flat. It has all the potential in the world but just can’t apply it. [See also: next year.] The last 30 seconds are great though.
V: The arrangement comes across really well live, too. Ledina is all hair and cleavage and teeters on a vocal precipice throughout.
30 Cyprus
B: If Constantinos was aiming for a Sakis feel, at least he got it right in the lyrics.
A: And perhaps in how cheap and contrived it all feels.
V: And in how camp it is.
31 Spain
B: I wonder whether Spanish lyricists get paid by the word. I’d want to be, considering elision means you have to write about twice as much.
A: I love the Bewitched opening. The rhythm and unadulterated Spanishness of this are what make it listenable, in spite of the vocals, which are of the type that never appeal to me.
V: Great use of colour on the stage and in their dresses, but rough vocals. And the guys in the background are one collective mistake.
32 Serbia and Montenegro
B: I suppose you can read something into this if you want to. The rhythm of the lyrics fits the music perfectly.
A: Bells! Sounds enormous. The vocals are uneven in how good they are, but work well together overall. It’s more of a fragment of a song though than a song in its own right, like it’s the last three minutes of some much longer composition.
V: They’re like the cast of an American teen comedy performing some elaborate mating ritual. The timing (and drums) here would make Macedonia proud.
33 Sweden
B: Very taut.
A: Smooth, slick and soulless.
V: Sounds good, but it’s a perfect example of “just doing what we did at Melodifestivalen” falling flat on its arse.
34 Ukraine
B: It’s startling how much this song must have meant to the majority of Ukrainians at the time. There’s plenty of power behind lines like “God be my witness, we’ve waited too long”.
A: An orchestra is what this song needs, and an orchestra is what this song gets. From the halfway mark, and by the end, its wings have well and truly sprouted.
V: The guy with the green guitar was the original Holly in Red Dwarf, wasn’t he? I don’t think any home entry in Eurovision has ever had as much significance as this.
35 Germany
B: The lyrics make this sound like a proper song.
A: It’s not that bad, actually. Fake, yes, but still better than a handful of other songs from 2005. Damning it with faint praise though that may be.
V: A more bum note to start off with we have never had, like she’s launched into the key change two minutes early. The rest of it’s OK, I guess.
36 Greece
B: I maintain that the lyrics to the verses and chorus here read like they were penned by different people, or even for two unrelated songs. I still like the rhymes in delicious/capricious and addiction/conviction/crucifixion.
A: High production values, clear national flavour, entirely accessible to a wider audience, and slightly empty.
V: There might be only one number involved, but it’s been calculated to the last possible place. Still, it produces a commanding routine which is at least the sum of its parts, if not more. Alex Panayi’s backing vocals are flawless.
37 Russia
B: The very Americanness of this still has me scratching my head as to how it ended up in the hands of Ms Podolskaya (or rather her producer) and how it managed to win the national final. I suspect money changed hands.
A: Very solid, if a little blustery as things progress. Makes good use of its three minutes.
V: Natashka surprised me then and surprises me again now for the strength of her performance, which is way better than anything the country had sent in the previous three years. Remind me why half the people involved were Finnish?
38 Bosnia and Herzegovina
B: What a pity for them that the line “Fifty candles on the forty cakes” didn’t come off. It’s all so shamelessly jolly and self-referential.
A: Cheap and likeable, as so many Bosnian entries have been, and the only entry in 2005 to actually make something of the anniversary year. Mr Babić can give me something like this over Cvet z juga any day.
V: Best preview video of the year, hands down. I remember thinking to myself at the time: if the audience is in the right mood, this might actually win. Ha! Still love it though.
39 France
B: These words work quite well as an anthem.
A: The French give us something different at last, without compromising on quality. Fantastic acoustic drive and rhythm, and the strings work a treat in the chorus. I love the variation in the vocals in the last minute, from bare and stripped to multi-layered. It was never going to do very well, but it’s an underrated gem.
V: There’s absolutely nothing wrong with the performance that I can see (or hear). Again, one of the best mixes of stage and lighting is left till the end of the night.
And so to the points...
1 point goes to Bulgaria
2 points go to France
3 points go to Serbia and Montenegro
4 points go to Denmark
5 points go to Slovenia
6 points go to Norway
7 points go to Austria
8 points go to Iceland
10 points go to Romania
and finally...
12 points go to...
Israel!
In such a field it wouldn’t be right to hoard wooden spoons, so two are awarded: one to Cyprus, and one to Estonia.
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