2006

A triumph of style over substance in many ways – and even then only just.

01 Armenia
B: It’s funny how the opening lines of both verses (“Drumming hearts and your silent words of of love” and “Fly with me, take my wings and dream away”) are poetic and correct in a way that the rest of the lyrics blatantly aren’t.
A: There’s a more complex arrangement here beneath the flim-flam you actually register than I’ve ever given the song credit for. The bassline is fantastic. For me, though, all of the song’s potential is in the verses and the bridge; come the chorus, it loses me. Canny debut though.
V: A performance that didn’t deserve to see the song qualify, frankly. Wobbly vocals, and it really doesn’t look or sound like something they’ve been rehearsing all week. The stage and lighting, while probably clever, have far too much going on to be anything other than distracting. [Later] Much more controlled in the final. Big improvement.

02 Bulgaria
B: Some neat, cutting truths here in lines like “I wanted you, you wanted to lie” and “Learning how to obey / Lost my heart and my face”.
A: This lush, multi-layered composition really takes off in the chorus. (Take note, Armenia!) For something I know started out life at about twice the length, it doesn’t feel all that butchered at three minutes, suggesting they realised what its best bits were and how to cobble them together in a package of edited highlights. I could listen to it over and over again. And indeed do.
V: Gorgeous outfits, and it’s a hair-styling triumph. Ms Popova’s nerves are all too obvious when she’s having to rein her vocals in; when she’s belting them out she’s tops. The less than wonderful backing vocals make it all a bit discordant, unfortunately. Aziz looks like every South-East Asian boy’s worst nightmare.

03 Slovenia
B: “So deeply, so badly, you’re hurting me” still raises an eyebrow. Though I prefer the Serbian version (Srce od kristala) to either the Slovene or English ones, I like the sense here that Anžej is just one more cold shoulder away from smothering his ex-lover with the pillow. The team behind this provide a symphony of háčeks.
A: I always feel slightly cheated that it’s not Nuša singing this, what with the bombastic production values and key changes and general melodrama. Trash of the highest grade. The pianist must have needed physiotherapy after all that rapid finger action.
V: There is a complete reversal between Bulgaria and Slovenia where the hair and outfits are concerned. The music sounds good, but the choreography is awfully mechanical, thanks to which the vocals decline at a rate of knots.

04 Andorra
B: These lyrics don’t have the poetry of the principality’s first two entries, and I still don’t see why they couldn’t have done some of it in English given that ‘without you’ is a perfect fit for ‘sense tu’. If nothing else, it would have given Jenny a respite from the mouthfuls of Catalan she was forced to spout in every stanza, tripping over her tongue as she went. (Reviewing the words now, perhaps “És difícil saber que és molt dur el que m’espera” explains why he left her. Bonerphobia?)
A: How the start of a song can be edited so badly boggles the mind. That aside, this is an atmospheric production that makes great use of its strings and backing vocals. At times they merge and are difficult to tell apart.
V: Wrong on any number of levels.

05 Belarus
B: I love the way Polina throws everything back in her mother’s face! It’s like: you were a teenage whore, so why can’t I be?
A: It sounds like a pinball machine on the set of a late ’80s heavy metal music video.
V: An amazing physical performance, and a perfect example of how the entertainment industry in these parts exists in a world of its own. How they thought something like this would work in the broader European context is beyond me. One of the guys looks like he’s wearing ladies’ knickers over his Levis.

06 Albania
B: Great lyrics: from the unlikeliness of lines such as “Gjithçka është e kot” to the evocative “Shpresën unë te ty e humba” and the lovely “Zemra kërkon të gjej stacion, tek ty ndalon”, which should feel like a cliché but simply doesn’t.
A: The 10 seconds of soundtrack at the beginning are engrossing. Fantastic build to the chorus, which again lets me down for no easily discernible reason. A bit too fidgety, perhaps, however appropriate that might be. Unlike many abrupt endings to Eurovision entries, this one works.
V: The two old guys look so out of place on that stage, plastered in make-up. Delightfully simple performance, which therefore isn’t very exciting.

07 Belgium
B: “Give me just a little more / Of everything I’ve waited for” is probably what she was saying when the results came in.

A: Surprisingly flat and empty when you listen to it. Despite never for a second thinking it was going places, the bubble of belief it was carried along on must have made me think it was better than it in fact turns out to be.
V: Is it a good thing that we can’t hear her in the chorus over the backing vocalists? [Watches some more] The microphone bits are clever. The fans ensure she gets the most audible reception so far, but this is a deserved NQ if you ask me.

08 Ireland
B: Brian has clearly had enough of being a power top if “Being strong, being tough / Never tender, always rough / It was never enough for me” is anything to go by.
A: Like it or not, this is a showcase for the kind of uncomplicated song Ireland does so well at Eurovision. Given the preachiness of the lyrics, I appreciate the music being understated for the most part.
V: This is the first stage design that actually works. Mr Kennedy gets a bit carried away in his “listen to me, I’ve got something important to say” role: I hate the watch-this finger he raises before he kneels down in the semi. The bleached leprechaun on backing vocals is Aziz’s pint-sized Irish cousin, no?

09 Cyprus
B: 100% puke-a-thon. “When will it all ever end?”
A: Switching to Jessica Garlick’s backing vocalists – or at least one of them – was about the smartest move anyone associated with this song ever made: it always needed to be a huge gospel number. The harp is suitably sanctimonious.
V: This is a great ad for all-over spray tan. Annet’s all lungs and bosoms, isn’t she, in a dress like that. She provides some of the best vocals of the contest, so it’s a pity they were smothered in sugar syrup. You’d be forgiven for thinking from the crowd’s reaction that it’s the winner’s reprise.

10 Monaco
B: The Tahitian adds a splash of colour, and the chorus is really upbeat, as is the song generally.
A: But if this is the best Monaco can do in Eurovision in the 21st century, they’re probably better off out of it. If they were serious about “having an equal chance of winning” they’d spend some of their untold squillions on a popular, established and relevant act and voila, it’d be Monte Carlo here we come.
V: Instead, we get this. Have you ever heard consistently flatter vocals in a chorus? It’s not helped by the lacklustre direction: the cameras are constantly moving, but without any hint of energy.

11 FYR Macedonia
B: There’s nothing about these lyrics that’s all that impressive, but as with the English versions of pretty much every Macedonian entry, they’re flawless. It’s no surprise that Rade Vrčakovski is behind both this and Let Me Love You.

A: I really took to this when I first heard it, but the appeal has worn off over time. It has a great driving energy and some neat touches to it, and yet overall it feels rather empty. I constantly find myself wishing it would pick up the pace, too.
V: The stage looks great again when it’s not being pink or red. Whatever the colour, I maintain that Ms Risteska looks like she should be anywhere other than on it: she has a good voice, but no charisma at all (rather like her predecessor). One of the backing vocalists seems to have enjoyed herself at least – both times, despite the vocals being all over the shop in the final.

Addendum: Which twat on the production team signed off plastering FORMER YUGOSLAV REPUBLIC OF MACEDONIA across a fifth of the screen?

12 Poland
B: It’s astonishing to think it took five people to pen these lyrics and six to perform them.

A: If more were made of the strings you can occasionally hear through the rest of the ruckus, I’d undoubtedly have more time for this. It has qualities which should find me attracted to it, like the acoustic track underpinning it all, but for me it’s barely even the sum of its parts. The splicing of languages and vocals is like some musical personality disorder. And as if it wasn’t irritating enough, they then go and include dated ’90s rapper The Real McCoy.

V: Least successful most overblown performance in Eurovision history? Someone should have turned the wind machines down: their effects are as audible as they are visible. The whole baby thing is not merely tacky but also faintly disturbing.

13 Russia
B: “Ready kiss, but no love” could well describe how close they came to victory with this. As could “Close embrace, but no more”.
A: Don’t ask me to pinpoint exactly why, but this is without doubt one of the most successful contemporary productions in Eurovision in recent years. (It’s streaks ahead of Believe, in my opinion.) The bridge, though doing very little that’s different from the rest of the song, stands out in particular.

V: Marina Ahverdova provides fantastic backing vocals here, as she would go on to do for Belarus in Helsinki. This is a clever performance, in that the ballerinas and the piano thing feel like they shouldn’t work, but they do. I’m glad they pulled off the roses bit in the final.

14 Turkey
B: “Aşka hazır mısın?” makes a great hook into the chorus here. It’s a pity TRT weren’t brave enough to let Sibel chuck in some of the Greek version.
A: This does very little until the chorus, when it only does slightly more. Its appeal lies in the fact that it’s quintessentially Turkish, but I’m glad they realised before the contest that they needed to achieve a balance between that and more obvious appeal.
V: I wonder whether Sibel genuinely intended to make herself look like a 60-year-old trying to pass for someone a third her age. Thankfully, she doesn’t have to try too hard to get the audience on her side. The remix does nothing for the song musically, but everything for it otherwise. The dancers are some of the hottest to ever grace a Eurovision stage.

15 Ukraine
B: You can just hear Pavel delivering these lyrics in that droll way of his. “Hi, baby, here I am” makes a great opening line set to that music.
A: There’s a preponderance of songs you scratch and find nothing beneath the surface this year, isn’t there. Here it’s very much a case of take it or leave it, and as a piece of music I can very much leave it. It’s a massive improvement on the original, needless to say.

V: One of the cleverest and most effortlessly enjoyable performances in the contest’s history. It’s clear that the delegation demanded and got exactly what they wanted in terms of camerawork.

16 Finland
B: Clever lyrics here. I especially like the ‘Arockalypse’ and the ‘Day of Rockoning’, which are a bit naff but work a treat. “Not quite an angel or the one that fell / Now choose to join us or go straight to hell” is good as well, and works perfectly as the peak of the bridge.
A: Very slick. Mind you, I’ve rarely come across this kind of music and thought otherwise. Perhaps there’s something about the genre which makes every production sound convincing.
V: It’s odd how it’s more obvious that the music isn’t being played live when there actually are instruments on stage*. Work of genius this, really. Mr Lordi looks amazing. Can you imagine how empty it would have felt if they’d been disallowed their pyrotechnics, as threatened?

17 The Netherlands
B: As made-up languages go, this one is positively anaemic.
A: One of this song’s various pitfalls, but perhaps its greatest, is that its entire first minute builds to something bigger and better which of course never materialises. As a composition it’s rather effective, and I’m sure I’d have more time for it if I just had the instrumental to listen to: the acoustic and percussion tracks are fantastic.
V: It’s like Sex and the City meets Neiokõsõ meets De troubadour, which makes it sound a lot more exciting than it actually is. The desert-and-drums desktop theme is nice, and *at least you can hear the percussion being played, but the arse shot is misjudged beyond words.

18 Lithuania
B: I love the “(Better in stereo)” bit.
A: I still wish, for several valid reasons, that this had been about a minute long. It’s only now though that I discover the rather fabulous synths tucked away ’twixt chorus and verse.
V: Yay, the audience hates them! Every second of this performance makes sense. It would have been hilarious if they’d actually won. Terrible for the contest, but hilarious.

19 Portugal
B: “Não estragues a noite com coisas de nada” says it all, really.
A: There’s just no escaping how lame this is. You could argue that Portugal had the patent out on unambitious entries up until they accidentally won, and that this was the benchmark.
V: The vocals are fantastic, which always comes as a surprise.

20 Sweden
B: There’s not much depth to these lyrics, but “Love is like a miracle invading your heart” is an unusually poetic and apt line for such shameless schlager.
A: There’s unexpected depth to the music here, which makes you realise that writing really good schlager is an art all of its own. Everything falls into place in this, the Eurovision comeback Charlotte probably deserved but never got, precisely because Carola had already beaten her to it.
V: I wouldn’t have minded this winning either, actually – it pushes all the right buttons. Stage, lighting and camerawork all come together, and Carola’s the very definition of a vocal powerhouse. I love her croaky ad-libs in the final.

21 Estonia
B: This is a showcase of the Jana Hallas school of song-writing: lyrics that fit together perfectly and mean bugger all.
A: How I ever thought this stood a chance of qualifying in competition with Invincible – let alone coming right after it – is beyond me now. Even if it had been in a league of its own, I doubt it would have come close to crossing the line: it’s simply too weak. There’s nothing wrong with it, and it’s still catchy, but it’s the antithesis of the Swedish entry in terms of how involving it is.
V: The hair and wardrobe people have clearly left the building to catch the last bus home.

22 Bosnia and Herzegovina
B: Utterly romantic in every sense. I love the sound of “U kosu stavi ruzmarin / I jedan cvijet kraj šadrvana” and the painful self-awareness inherent in “Ja odlazim k’o da sam kriv / Što voljeh onu koju ne smijem”.
A: The way this envelops you musically is quite astounding. Our Harry’s vocals add just the right amount of gravitas to it without tipping it over into gross sentimentality. Rich and rewarding.
V: The stage looks brilliant – mostly because you can’t see it – and the ending is fantastic. There’s absolutely nothing like this in the rest of the semi-final, or the entire contest for that matter, and it’s lovely to see it so obviously appreciated.

23 Iceland
B: The chorus here could have been the template for Krisse in Helsinki.
A: Such a charismatic arrangement. If any composition could be described as tongue-in-cheek, it’s this one.
V: All this and we get Sigga on backing vocals!

24 Switzerland
B: Terrible lyrics, and not merely because of the barf factor: time and again in the verses they’re mangled to fit the music and end up sounding horribly clunky. When you run them together as one sentence they’re fine, but break them up between bars and it just doesn’t work. And what’s a ‘rock of stone’? What other kinds of rocks are there?
A: I like the strummy guitar bits, and strings never have to do much to please me. Twee excesses elsewhere though, as you might expect.
V: Listen to the sad Maltese fans wet themselves every time Keith Camilleri puts in a bright orange appearance. To his right stands Tinka: it’s such a shame she wasted herself on this, given she’s a thousand times more engaging than anyone else. And has the best dress.

25 Moldova
B: When Ms Gordienko says, “Hey, loco, please espera un poco / And I’ll give you my choco”, is she offering herself up for a bit of back-door fun?
A: I cheered when I heard this had emerged victorious from the debacle of the national final, since it seemed fresh and different. Indeed, as three minutes of music to listen to there’s nothing much wrong with it, if you like that kind of thing.
V: It just doesn’t translate to the stage. What a disaster this performance is! Does anyone even notice that Natalia keeps shedding clothes?

26 Israel
B: The gospel overtones of this always led me to believe it was a praise-the-lord kind of song. Wasn’t it originally? I vaguely remember being surprised at the time that it had transformed into a bog-standard ballad by the final. In any case, there’s a strange beauty to the look and sound of “Ohav otakh la’ad”.
A: Yes, it’s all a bit too Life TV for my liking. Beautifully produced, but trying to say something I don’t want to hear.

V: The speed at which everyone’s vocals fall apart is spectacular.

27 Latvia
B: I rather like these lyrics, in isolation.
A: Tempting as it is to sum this up with “I cover my ears / But none of the noise will go away”, I’m forced to concede that it’s not bad for what it is.

V: Cosmos are clearly talented, and seem like a nice bunch of lads. So why can’t I stand them? I wonder whether their performing this at a significantly higher rate of BPMs than in the studio version was a conscious decision. In any case I’m grateful. The floating heart’s a nice touch, but the robot is rubbish, and off-white really is just a shade of white. 

28 Norway
B: The lyrics here are not a thing of beauty per se...
A: ...but they take on an almost magical quality when delivered by Ms Guldbrandsen against such a vivid and expressive musical backdrop – one that could easily be alienating, but simply resonates.
V: Great backing vocals from a very experienced trio, too. (The Scandis know when they’re onto a good thing in that department.) It constantly amazes me that something so folksy and sedate feels so upbeat, but that’s probably because of its place in the line-up: after that start, anything with a sense of purpose would. The stage looks beautiful. I love the fact that Christine seems genuinely surprised at the end that anyone likes her song.

29 Spain
B: Lyrics of the contest, hands down.
A: This forgets to have a chorus until more than half of it’s over, and even then it doesn’t really feel like one. Not that I’m complaining: the whole thing’s lush. Completely wrong for Eurovision, but hey, you can’t have everything.
V: Do they ever actually use those microphone stands, or are they purely there for prop purposes? [Momentarily] Oh, they do. The vocals are a bit ragged in places, but I can forgive that, since it seems kind of appropriate. The androgyny of the dancers earns them bonus points.

30 Malta
B: I think this is about Fabrizio being in love with a married man.
A: This is heavy on the bass, but light on any other redeeming features.
V: Well, you can see why it would win in Malta. The choreography was meant to be an improvement on Another Summer Night, wasn’t it? And what are we supposed to glean from the fact that the song’s 1 solitary point came from an Albanian jury?

31 Germany
B: Fantastic rhythm.
A: I just spent 2 minutes and 28 seconds singing along to every word. That should tell you all you need to know :)
V: I still don’t understand why a performance this likeable failed to translate into more than 36 points. Was Europe not ready for a German-Australian-American fusion?

32 Denmark
B: The ’50s feel runs all the way through this, even the lyrics. “Be sure you know how to make a girl insist” sets feminism back just the right number of years to fit in perfectly with the overall feel of the song.
A: Brilliant, if you’re in the mood for it. Otherwise it’s just well cobbled together.
V: I challenge anyone to come up with a less likely bunch of names than Sidsel Ben Semmane, Daniel ‘Sonic’ Rojas, Mynte Lagoni, Susanne Palsbøl, Christina Boelskifte and Nini Bagger. And what’s with the crooked finger?

33 Romania
B: “I wonder why I didn’t know” is a welcome but also massively self-delusional admission leading into the big finale.
A: There’s little to distinguish this as a composition from Malta, to be honest, except that it has a more tangible sense of purpose. It doesn’t even start to gel for me until the bridge. I still prefer the original.
V: Mihai’s scary to look at, but he gives us one of the best key changes in Eurovision history. The overacting elsewhere is hilarious.

34 United Kingdom
B: Why would your teachers ask you what you learnt at school that day?
A: Much like Mr Sampson himself, Teenage Life – as both a Eurovision entry and a song written in the 21st century – feels like a leftover from another decade. I’m sure I’d like it without the vocals and sound effects, because the arrangement is unexpectedly layered. Add a Russian male voice choir and, pedestrian verses aside, it could be something written by Neil Tennant and Chris Lowe.

V: Poor Daz – he looks like he has a mental age of about nine. Great vocals from the girls, and the performance generally is far better than you assume it will be. I genuinely like the fact that Daz entreats viewers to “vote for the music”.

35 Greece
B: These lyrics are clever without trying to be, and I like that. I’d have changed the title though, just for the mild amusement of hearing some commentator say, “Here’s Anna Vissi for Greece with Everything I Hate.”
A: The Greeks just can’t be doing without an electric guitar, can they. I suppose this is the kind of song that needs something with a bit of oomph; the rest of the composition is rather fragile and subdued. I always feel I’m not going to like it much when I listen to it, but come away realising I do, which is fitting.
V: This went up a pitch after it emerged from the studio, too, like Turkey. All for the good. Athens doesn’t provide many of them, but hearing the home crowd sing along to every chorus of this is one of the most uplifting and affirming moments of any contest.

36 France
B: Lovely, albeit confusing: the chorus makes it sound like a post-mortem sigh of relief.
A: Virginie’s vocals do nothing for**, but the music... the music...!
V: **Especially when she’s about half a key off for the entire song. Matheson Bayley is a boon.

37 Croatia
B: Great rhythm here as well (especially in “Jer još trava nije nikla / Tamo gdje je stala moja štikla”), underscoring the harmless slap’n’tickleness of it all. Nobody’s ever nibbled me in public so that no one else can see, but I like the sound of it.
A: Bah, it has me grinning like a fool!
V: This wouldn’t have qualified from the semi-final if it had needed to, but the fact it was in the final instead of Poland can only be a good thing. It’s totally barmy. Severina is the nearest we’ve come to having a blow-up doll represent her country at Eurovision.


And so to the points...

1 point goes to Finland

2 points go to Iceland

3 points go to Sweden

4 points go to Spain

5 points go to Norway

6 points go to Russia

7 points go to France

8 points go to Bulgaria

10 points go to Germany

and finally...

12 points go to...


Bosnia and Herzegovina!


The wooden spoon goes to Belarus, although Poland and Malta deserve special mention for also being spectacularly crap.