01
Austria
B: You wouldn’t pick this as coming from the same composer as Say a Word. Well, a third of it, anyway. It’s a bit generic as anthems go, but I quite like the line “Look up to the starlit sky, reignite the fire”.
A: I do like the glockenspiel and harp, and the ‘uh-oh’ bits make a good hook (of sorts). The arrangement’s rather complex in its way, with layers to it you don’t really know are there unless you strip away the vocals. Very clean, modern sound to it all.
V: Nice, simple, consistent performance here, which is what the song requires, but not really what it needs – our first glimpse of the floating tampons being about the most exciting thing about it. Sole male backing vocalist Harri Baumgartner bears a passing resemblance to the golden showers guy from Oslo in a peculiarly Alpine kind of way.
B: You wouldn’t pick this as coming from the same composer as Say a Word. Well, a third of it, anyway. It’s a bit generic as anthems go, but I quite like the line “Look up to the starlit sky, reignite the fire”.
A: I do like the glockenspiel and harp, and the ‘uh-oh’ bits make a good hook (of sorts). The arrangement’s rather complex in its way, with layers to it you don’t really know are there unless you strip away the vocals. Very clean, modern sound to it all.
V: Nice, simple, consistent performance here, which is what the song requires, but not really what it needs – our first glimpse of the floating tampons being about the most exciting thing about it. Sole male backing vocalist Harri Baumgartner bears a passing resemblance to the golden showers guy from Oslo in a peculiarly Alpine kind of way.
02
Estonia
B: There’s something truly lovely about lines like “Veel sulab jää ja õide puhkeb raagus puu” that just doesn’t come across when translated. There’s also some awful cheese. The whole curtain-raising metaphor in the second verse is beyond banal.
A: The orchestral makeover this got between Eesti Laul and ESC lifts it enormously, but still not enough to disguise the fact that it could be trying a lot harder. I’ve always thought that if more had been made of the muffled country twang here and there it could have sounded a bit more contemporary and less like something to which you try and repeatedly fail to attribute a date stamp. There is a sense of timelessness about it, but there’s a facelessness, too.
V: It doesn’t really need the black and white treatment, does it? Especially when the switch to colour comes mid-shot, making the transformation appear as though someone’s just forgotten to press a button. Birgit looks and sounds the business in the semi but is noticeably more relaxed come the final, where it’s nice to see her enjoy it more. Since there’s no evidence to the contrary until the first chorus, you might imagine she’s standing there completely naked. I’d been in two minds about the shouty finale, but she pulls it off with aplomb, and it could well be what got her through. Fabulous eye shadow.
B: There’s something truly lovely about lines like “Veel sulab jää ja õide puhkeb raagus puu” that just doesn’t come across when translated. There’s also some awful cheese. The whole curtain-raising metaphor in the second verse is beyond banal.
A: The orchestral makeover this got between Eesti Laul and ESC lifts it enormously, but still not enough to disguise the fact that it could be trying a lot harder. I’ve always thought that if more had been made of the muffled country twang here and there it could have sounded a bit more contemporary and less like something to which you try and repeatedly fail to attribute a date stamp. There is a sense of timelessness about it, but there’s a facelessness, too.
V: It doesn’t really need the black and white treatment, does it? Especially when the switch to colour comes mid-shot, making the transformation appear as though someone’s just forgotten to press a button. Birgit looks and sounds the business in the semi but is noticeably more relaxed come the final, where it’s nice to see her enjoy it more. Since there’s no evidence to the contrary until the first chorus, you might imagine she’s standing there completely naked. I’d been in two minds about the shouty finale, but she pulls it off with aplomb, and it could well be what got her through. Fabulous eye shadow.
03
Slovenia
B: “...inside me you’ll stay / There is no doubt” – someone’s been doing their Kegel exercises. I wonder if Hannah and whoever she’s colliding with are responsible for lighting up the sky that Natália implores us to gaze up at.
A: There’s something self-defeating to me about this style of music, which is all reverb and echo and sounds that shift from one side of your head to the other: it doesn’t give you much to hold onto and ends up feeling (and sounding) pretty empty. The verses are more successful than the chorus, which doesn’t help. Layer on Ms Mancini’s competent but not particularly attractive vocals and the whole thing’s not a lot of fun to listen to.
V: Round one of ‘spot the hidden backing vocalists’. Hannah doesn’t really do anything wrong here – the studio version makes it obvious she sounds like that at the best of times – but again it’s not a voice you hear and think, “That was nice, I’d like to hear her singing again.” And it’s all just so very Slovenian. That said, credit where credit’s due: it’s like Vrag naj vzame done right.
B: “...inside me you’ll stay / There is no doubt” – someone’s been doing their Kegel exercises. I wonder if Hannah and whoever she’s colliding with are responsible for lighting up the sky that Natália implores us to gaze up at.
A: There’s something self-defeating to me about this style of music, which is all reverb and echo and sounds that shift from one side of your head to the other: it doesn’t give you much to hold onto and ends up feeling (and sounding) pretty empty. The verses are more successful than the chorus, which doesn’t help. Layer on Ms Mancini’s competent but not particularly attractive vocals and the whole thing’s not a lot of fun to listen to.
V: Round one of ‘spot the hidden backing vocalists’. Hannah doesn’t really do anything wrong here – the studio version makes it obvious she sounds like that at the best of times – but again it’s not a voice you hear and think, “That was nice, I’d like to hear her singing again.” And it’s all just so very Slovenian. That said, credit where credit’s due: it’s like Vrag naj vzame done right.
04
Croatia
B: I love the coincidence of one of the lads having the name Bataljaku and the lot of them wearing traditional soldiers’ outfits, or whatever they are. I also love the fact that it’s saying “life sucks – we’re out of wine”. But if you have to pre-empt “ka tvrda si stina” with “ej mižerja”, you’ve got your priorities wrong.
A: Klapa, presumably, is the singing style rather than the genre of composition this represents, which is decent if unexciting. Then again, so’s the singing.
V: Back in the day, where this rather feels like it comes from, that bit where they all stand still would have seen us get shots of the orchestra giving it what for. I’m not sure any aspect of the choreography works, really – it’s sort of static and robotic and homoerotic all at the same time. I was [and am still] surprised at how underwhelming it sounds. Baldie has terrible overacting eyebrows.
B: I love the coincidence of one of the lads having the name Bataljaku and the lot of them wearing traditional soldiers’ outfits, or whatever they are. I also love the fact that it’s saying “life sucks – we’re out of wine”. But if you have to pre-empt “ka tvrda si stina” with “ej mižerja”, you’ve got your priorities wrong.
A: Klapa, presumably, is the singing style rather than the genre of composition this represents, which is decent if unexciting. Then again, so’s the singing.
V: Back in the day, where this rather feels like it comes from, that bit where they all stand still would have seen us get shots of the orchestra giving it what for. I’m not sure any aspect of the choreography works, really – it’s sort of static and robotic and homoerotic all at the same time. I was [and am still] surprised at how underwhelming it sounds. Baldie has terrible overacting eyebrows.
05
Denmark
B: Lots of celestial references this year. I always assumed this was your standard crumbling relationship ditty, but I suppose you can interpret it just as rightly as having more anthemic overtones. I prefer not to, though.
A: Victory hasn’t made that tin whistle any less irritating. That aside, this is a pleasingly economical package: it doesn’t waste much time on the verses, and then you get a repeated pre-chorus thingy ahead of the main feature. It’s all a clever way of focusing the listener’s attention – which, to give it its dues, is something performers tend to leave to the staging to take care of.
V: Hello Anders Øhrstrøm, stubbly drummer boy! Nice to have you back. You were, after all, the main attraction in 2008 and 2009. The clockwork soldier routine he and the please-don’t-stick-me-in-close-up-again whistler adopt is rather fetching. And it’s nice to see that Roz from Spooks didn’t die after all but ended up letting her hair down and assuming the identity of a Danish backing vocalist. Meanwhile, Emmelie looks adorable when she smiles; the rest of the time – especially when finding the cameras before they find her – she looks a little awkwardly trapped in the routine. But she sounds fab, and does a great line in kooky stalker on the second verse. The glitterfetti is redundant if you ask me.
B: Lots of celestial references this year. I always assumed this was your standard crumbling relationship ditty, but I suppose you can interpret it just as rightly as having more anthemic overtones. I prefer not to, though.
A: Victory hasn’t made that tin whistle any less irritating. That aside, this is a pleasingly economical package: it doesn’t waste much time on the verses, and then you get a repeated pre-chorus thingy ahead of the main feature. It’s all a clever way of focusing the listener’s attention – which, to give it its dues, is something performers tend to leave to the staging to take care of.
V: Hello Anders Øhrstrøm, stubbly drummer boy! Nice to have you back. You were, after all, the main attraction in 2008 and 2009. The clockwork soldier routine he and the please-don’t-stick-me-in-close-up-again whistler adopt is rather fetching. And it’s nice to see that Roz from Spooks didn’t die after all but ended up letting her hair down and assuming the identity of a Danish backing vocalist. Meanwhile, Emmelie looks adorable when she smiles; the rest of the time – especially when finding the cameras before they find her – she looks a little awkwardly trapped in the routine. But she sounds fab, and does a great line in kooky stalker on the second verse. The glitterfetti is redundant if you ask me.
06
Russia
B: Fagimovna is a brilliant middle name.
A: This retchworthy charcoal tablet of an anthem isn’t any more progressive in what it’s doing than Estonia, but it manages to sound more contemporary, and it knows it has a purpose in life. The last minute or so is textbook and probably the best of the bunch among this year’s lot. Dina’s voice has both the innocence and the impact the song demands.
V: Very much the dusky Tartar, with a hint of Anne-Marie David. Cracking vocals, including the final ad-lib, and the key change is very effective. The glowing balls give the whole thing a lovely... well, glow, but I’m not sure what they’re meant to represent, and the bit with the two of them being thrown out into the audience just looks daft. The whole thing is surprisingly palatable though until the eye-rolling hand-holding at the end. It’s interesting to see that there’s no improvement in the camerawork at the end of the first chorus between semi and final.
B: Fagimovna is a brilliant middle name.
A: This retchworthy charcoal tablet of an anthem isn’t any more progressive in what it’s doing than Estonia, but it manages to sound more contemporary, and it knows it has a purpose in life. The last minute or so is textbook and probably the best of the bunch among this year’s lot. Dina’s voice has both the innocence and the impact the song demands.
V: Very much the dusky Tartar, with a hint of Anne-Marie David. Cracking vocals, including the final ad-lib, and the key change is very effective. The glowing balls give the whole thing a lovely... well, glow, but I’m not sure what they’re meant to represent, and the bit with the two of them being thrown out into the audience just looks daft. The whole thing is surprisingly palatable though until the eye-rolling hand-holding at the end. It’s interesting to see that there’s no improvement in the camerawork at the end of the first chorus between semi and final.
07
Ukraine
B: Karen Caravan, as I always end up calling him, is obviously the go-to guy for superficially cohesive lyrics. What’s a butterfly doing spinning round a sword as if to dare? Nice coincidence between said butterfly and the visual theme of the contest.
A: Despite this feeling like a showcase rather than a complete song – three minutes of something that by rights should be at least twice as long – it knows how to highlight what it’s got going for it. The strings and synths work unexpectedly well together. The former do a lot to personify the musical narrative, too, tying it neatly together with the lyrics.
V: Zlata is stunning in every respect. They could and probably should have dropped the giant, but in general this is, as expected, can’t-take-your-eyes-off-it stuff. I love the onomatopoeic backing vocalist (“Mööööööö!”).
B: Karen Caravan, as I always end up calling him, is obviously the go-to guy for superficially cohesive lyrics. What’s a butterfly doing spinning round a sword as if to dare? Nice coincidence between said butterfly and the visual theme of the contest.
A: Despite this feeling like a showcase rather than a complete song – three minutes of something that by rights should be at least twice as long – it knows how to highlight what it’s got going for it. The strings and synths work unexpectedly well together. The former do a lot to personify the musical narrative, too, tying it neatly together with the lyrics.
V: Zlata is stunning in every respect. They could and probably should have dropped the giant, but in general this is, as expected, can’t-take-your-eyes-off-it stuff. I love the onomatopoeic backing vocalist (“Mööööööö!”).
08
The Netherlands
B: Not even my linguistically tilted brain can fathom how you’re supposed to pronounce Teeuwe; no wonder she sticks to her first name. “If being myself is what I do wrong / Then I would rather not be right” is one of my favourite couplets in any Eurovision entry (and indeed any song) in a long time.
A: What an engrossing soundscape. When you just listen to the music, the first minute or so in particular could be soundtrack rather than song. As it builds, it seems to travel backwards in time, adopting some strikingly old-fashioned (albeit very beautifully rendered) notes in its arrangement. Anouk’s delivery adds to this overall sense of a moment being witnessed out of its time. The result is amazing.
V: It’s been said that even the most seasoned professionals can be daunted by the Eurovision experience, and I’d say that was the case here in the semi, where Anouk – while far from poor – feels only barely there at times. She’s a lot more on top of things come the final, selling it with palpable conviction. 12 points go to Suriname on both nights for the backing vocals.
B: Not even my linguistically tilted brain can fathom how you’re supposed to pronounce Teeuwe; no wonder she sticks to her first name. “If being myself is what I do wrong / Then I would rather not be right” is one of my favourite couplets in any Eurovision entry (and indeed any song) in a long time.
A: What an engrossing soundscape. When you just listen to the music, the first minute or so in particular could be soundtrack rather than song. As it builds, it seems to travel backwards in time, adopting some strikingly old-fashioned (albeit very beautifully rendered) notes in its arrangement. Anouk’s delivery adds to this overall sense of a moment being witnessed out of its time. The result is amazing.
V: It’s been said that even the most seasoned professionals can be daunted by the Eurovision experience, and I’d say that was the case here in the semi, where Anouk – while far from poor – feels only barely there at times. She’s a lot more on top of things come the final, selling it with palpable conviction. 12 points go to Suriname on both nights for the backing vocals.
09
Montenegro
B: “’ajmo na igranku, đe ćemo drugo?” The final :-(
A: I love the jarring switch from Birds to this. It always surprises me for how much I like it, given it’s not my thing at all. Probably because it sounds real. It has the best intro of any song this year. Best outro for that matter, too.
V: Nina Žižić is fantastic. And hello Mario Đorđević! This is mental and vaguely threatening and totally fabulous and the final was a much poorer place without it.
B: “’ajmo na igranku, đe ćemo drugo?” The final :-(
A: I love the jarring switch from Birds to this. It always surprises me for how much I like it, given it’s not my thing at all. Probably because it sounds real. It has the best intro of any song this year. Best outro for that matter, too.
V: Nina Žižić is fantastic. And hello Mario Đorđević! This is mental and vaguely threatening and totally fabulous and the final was a much poorer place without it.
10
Lithuania
B: It seems so gloriously Lithuanian to summarise a song in a metaphor about footwear.
A: Oddly structured, this, when you look at it, but otherwise straightforward, and not unappealing for it. It certainly smacks of the kind of music ordinary people make and listen to, in this part of the world.
V: Andrius looks a bit like John Barrowman, at least in the postcard. (Their lad last year did as well, strangely enough.) He looks like he’s just rolled out of bed in his singlet, grabbed his jacket and rocked up at the arena fashionably late. The heat of the lights makes it appear as though he’s got a snotty top lip. His performance, like his song, is very much a case of getting what you see.
B: It seems so gloriously Lithuanian to summarise a song in a metaphor about footwear.
A: Oddly structured, this, when you look at it, but otherwise straightforward, and not unappealing for it. It certainly smacks of the kind of music ordinary people make and listen to, in this part of the world.
V: Andrius looks a bit like John Barrowman, at least in the postcard. (Their lad last year did as well, strangely enough.) He looks like he’s just rolled out of bed in his singlet, grabbed his jacket and rocked up at the arena fashionably late. The heat of the lights makes it appear as though he’s got a snotty top lip. His performance, like his song, is very much a case of getting what you see.
11
Belarus
B: I’m sure “Coming at me like a tsunami” was the description of a video I saw on a certain website recently.
A: It’s no surprise that this self-assembly schlager comes from a composer whoring himself to the highest bidder. (Probably the only bidder, in this case.) It had to have been sitting around in a drawer since 2005: cheap, repetitive and with an unhealthy percussion fetish, it could have been tailor-made for the contest in Kyiv. The chorus is unbelievably flat, given the message it’s pushing.
V: Ms Lanskaya doesn’t sound too bad, but she’s clearly focussed on getting the moves right (in the semi; she has more fun with it in the final). It’s an overly busy routine in which each and every ‘hey!’ is issued with none of the requisite enthusiasm. They really ought to have rearranged the vocals for the live version to fill them out more, a la the studio version.
B: I’m sure “Coming at me like a tsunami” was the description of a video I saw on a certain website recently.
A: It’s no surprise that this self-assembly schlager comes from a composer whoring himself to the highest bidder. (Probably the only bidder, in this case.) It had to have been sitting around in a drawer since 2005: cheap, repetitive and with an unhealthy percussion fetish, it could have been tailor-made for the contest in Kyiv. The chorus is unbelievably flat, given the message it’s pushing.
V: Ms Lanskaya doesn’t sound too bad, but she’s clearly focussed on getting the moves right (in the semi; she has more fun with it in the final). It’s an overly busy routine in which each and every ‘hey!’ is issued with none of the requisite enthusiasm. They really ought to have rearranged the vocals for the live version to fill them out more, a la the studio version.
12
Moldova
B: Aah, so that’s where all of Denmark’s shooting stars went – Aliona pinched the lot of ’em. And that’s not the only lyrical full circle in this semi, with “Vreau un nou început” tying in nicely with Et uus saaks alguse. The rhyme and rhythm throughout is pleasing.
A: It’s always nice to see a composer coming up with something completely different to what they’ve given you before and showing there’s more to them than what you’ve seen – Pasha Parfeny does it here just as Ukrainian composer Mikhail Nekrasov did before him. (And neither O mie nor Gravity could be less like their predecessors, Lăutar and Show Me Your Love.) Since I’m a sucker for strings and piano, this ticks all of my boxes. I worry at times that it then goes on to tick a few too many more of its own when it might have made more sense to rein itself in a bit, but by the time it comes back round again it’s just about gotten away with it. And Romanian has rarely sounded this lovely.
V: The contemporary dance routine is one of the best bits of staging this year, and what with the dress and Ms Moon’s remarkable levitation, it’s all very absorbing. The way she turns to ice at the end is just beautiful. The vocal lift going into the last bit is much needed and perfectly executed. I love the moment in the semi where she swallows a line on the first verse. She’s noticeably more nervous in the final until she can let rip.
B: Aah, so that’s where all of Denmark’s shooting stars went – Aliona pinched the lot of ’em. And that’s not the only lyrical full circle in this semi, with “Vreau un nou început” tying in nicely with Et uus saaks alguse. The rhyme and rhythm throughout is pleasing.
A: It’s always nice to see a composer coming up with something completely different to what they’ve given you before and showing there’s more to them than what you’ve seen – Pasha Parfeny does it here just as Ukrainian composer Mikhail Nekrasov did before him. (And neither O mie nor Gravity could be less like their predecessors, Lăutar and Show Me Your Love.) Since I’m a sucker for strings and piano, this ticks all of my boxes. I worry at times that it then goes on to tick a few too many more of its own when it might have made more sense to rein itself in a bit, but by the time it comes back round again it’s just about gotten away with it. And Romanian has rarely sounded this lovely.
V: The contemporary dance routine is one of the best bits of staging this year, and what with the dress and Ms Moon’s remarkable levitation, it’s all very absorbing. The way she turns to ice at the end is just beautiful. The vocal lift going into the last bit is much needed and perfectly executed. I love the moment in the semi where she swallows a line on the first verse. She’s noticeably more nervous in the final until she can let rip.
13
Ireland
B: More stars. Quite a decent little club anthem, this. “And when the stars are aligned, you got to make love a state of mind” is a good line.
A: The only thing that opening swathe of the instrumental is lacking for the full Native American effect is the cry of an eagle echoing across the mountain peaks. The rest is a plinky-plonk mash-up of synths and vocals and not much else – and while it does what it says on the tin, you can see why the juries ignored it.
V: Goodness knows how, but this manages to come across as far less overtly queer than it is. Even Ryan himself persuades of a certain machoness, despite the spray tan and the glitter in his hair and the fact that what look like leather trousers and jacket are actually some sort of lamé affair. On the whole though it’s a convincing three minutes. Ryan copes admirably with some pretty demanding vocals, even if he still doesn’t sound all that great.
B: More stars. Quite a decent little club anthem, this. “And when the stars are aligned, you got to make love a state of mind” is a good line.
A: The only thing that opening swathe of the instrumental is lacking for the full Native American effect is the cry of an eagle echoing across the mountain peaks. The rest is a plinky-plonk mash-up of synths and vocals and not much else – and while it does what it says on the tin, you can see why the juries ignored it.
V: Goodness knows how, but this manages to come across as far less overtly queer than it is. Even Ryan himself persuades of a certain machoness, despite the spray tan and the glitter in his hair and the fact that what look like leather trousers and jacket are actually some sort of lamé affair. On the whole though it’s a convincing three minutes. Ryan copes admirably with some pretty demanding vocals, even if he still doesn’t sound all that great.
14
Cyprus
B: Sadly beautiful, these lyrics, and quite moving.
A: For me there’s absolutely no contest between this and Estonia, with which it’s essentially competing. It’s no more groundbreaking, but it’s far more successful – mostly because it has some character to it, and a real intimacy. The elements meld smoothly without losing any of their individual purity, and complemented by Despina’s vocals make the whole thing feel so gloriously genuine.
V: Despina looks lovely and glittery and has a fab dress. She just seems like a nice person. The simple staging is a treat after the übertrash of Belarus and Ireland. It’s such a shame that the only blatant bum note of the night mars this, even if it’s not actually that bad in itself.
B: Sadly beautiful, these lyrics, and quite moving.
A: For me there’s absolutely no contest between this and Estonia, with which it’s essentially competing. It’s no more groundbreaking, but it’s far more successful – mostly because it has some character to it, and a real intimacy. The elements meld smoothly without losing any of their individual purity, and complemented by Despina’s vocals make the whole thing feel so gloriously genuine.
V: Despina looks lovely and glittery and has a fab dress. She just seems like a nice person. The simple staging is a treat after the übertrash of Belarus and Ireland. It’s such a shame that the only blatant bum note of the night mars this, even if it’s not actually that bad in itself.
15
Belgium
B: The entire chorus here is a crushingly accurate description of the unhappy endings some relationships come to.
A: It’s bizarre to think that among them, these composers have both San angelos s’agapisa and Running Scared to their name. That they do though – at least where the Azeri winner is concerned – is reflected in the fact that this is one of the most modern-sounding songs in the contest. Expansive, too, without being alienating. And catchy. In terms of what it’s there to do, the chorus is undoubtedly one of the best of the bunch on the Malmö stage.
V: Odd but interesting choreography, which it’s nice to see is extended to the [very good] backing vocalists. Roberto handles the semi well but the final even better, to which his endearing girly reaction attests. Unlike, say, Croatia, which should have, this truly does sound massive.
B: The entire chorus here is a crushingly accurate description of the unhappy endings some relationships come to.
A: It’s bizarre to think that among them, these composers have both San angelos s’agapisa and Running Scared to their name. That they do though – at least where the Azeri winner is concerned – is reflected in the fact that this is one of the most modern-sounding songs in the contest. Expansive, too, without being alienating. And catchy. In terms of what it’s there to do, the chorus is undoubtedly one of the best of the bunch on the Malmö stage.
V: Odd but interesting choreography, which it’s nice to see is extended to the [very good] backing vocalists. Roberto handles the semi well but the final even better, to which his endearing girly reaction attests. Unlike, say, Croatia, which should have, this truly does sound massive.
16
Serbia
B: I love the translation on Diggiloo of “Srce tvoje je tad ribama hrana” as “Your heart is fish food”!
A: What an odd concoction this is, given the names behind it. Its catchiest bit (the do-re-mi-fa-so-fa-mi-re-do line in the chorus) is also musically its most banal.
V: I wonder how many viewers, deprived of subtitles or explanation, thought this was some teen girl sleepover melodrama.
B: I love the translation on Diggiloo of “Srce tvoje je tad ribama hrana” as “Your heart is fish food”!
A: What an odd concoction this is, given the names behind it. Its catchiest bit (the do-re-mi-fa-so-fa-mi-re-do line in the chorus) is also musically its most banal.
V: I wonder how many viewers, deprived of subtitles or explanation, thought this was some teen girl sleepover melodrama.
17
Latvia
B: I wonder if the vision they were on a mission to fulfil was coming last in their semi for the third time in five years. Who’s Andy Kaufman?
A: White-boy rap is never much of an idea at the best of times, least of all when it’s saddled with a backing track that – though unpretentious – is this uninteresting.
V: As controversial as the decision to allow SVT to decide the running order of the shows may have been, it did mean this obvious opener was allowed to be just that. Sure, it had next to no impact anyway, but in theory at least, if it was going to have any, the number-one slot would afford it slightly more chance of cashing in on it. I’d always wondered what kind of a response an ‘audience participation’ entry would get in Eurovision; I now have my answer. Kudos to them though for throwing themselves into it. Especially in those outfits. (And I had no idea until seeing it that half of the music was beatbox.)
B: I wonder if the vision they were on a mission to fulfil was coming last in their semi for the third time in five years. Who’s Andy Kaufman?
A: White-boy rap is never much of an idea at the best of times, least of all when it’s saddled with a backing track that – though unpretentious – is this uninteresting.
V: As controversial as the decision to allow SVT to decide the running order of the shows may have been, it did mean this obvious opener was allowed to be just that. Sure, it had next to no impact anyway, but in theory at least, if it was going to have any, the number-one slot would afford it slightly more chance of cashing in on it. I’d always wondered what kind of a response an ‘audience participation’ entry would get in Eurovision; I now have my answer. Kudos to them though for throwing themselves into it. Especially in those outfits. (And I had no idea until seeing it that half of the music was beatbox.)
18
San Marino
B: Rather a prettily rendered metaphor, this set of lyrics – even if lines like “Certe volte dentro me / Ho sentito un vuoto che / Mi chiamava dentro di se” make you wonder whether she’s regretting a hysterectomy.
A: There’s definitely something incubator-like about this arrangement, so it works on that level. The discotastic spreading of wings in the final minute all the more so, as cheesy and dated as it ends up sounding. Is it just me though or do those last 60 seconds always sound like they’re being pumped through speakers that have seen better days?
V: The two other girls on the stage are very Monaco, fulfilling no other purpose than to whip off Valentina’s... whatever it is she’s wearing come the big reveal. Ms Monetta doesn’t convince me here vocally the same way she did last year and comes across a bit mid-life crisis, but on the whole it’s alright.
B: Rather a prettily rendered metaphor, this set of lyrics – even if lines like “Certe volte dentro me / Ho sentito un vuoto che / Mi chiamava dentro di se” make you wonder whether she’s regretting a hysterectomy.
A: There’s definitely something incubator-like about this arrangement, so it works on that level. The discotastic spreading of wings in the final minute all the more so, as cheesy and dated as it ends up sounding. Is it just me though or do those last 60 seconds always sound like they’re being pumped through speakers that have seen better days?
V: The two other girls on the stage are very Monaco, fulfilling no other purpose than to whip off Valentina’s... whatever it is she’s wearing come the big reveal. Ms Monetta doesn’t convince me here vocally the same way she did last year and comes across a bit mid-life crisis, but on the whole it’s alright.
19
FYR Macedonia
B: I suppose “Не е ко порано / Добрите времиња ги нема” could be in reference to the relative success of Crno i belo, or perhaps the fate that’s befallen Vlatko in having to share the stage (and indeed half his song) with Esma. Extra points for the use of the subjunctive.
A: There are some interesting flourishes here, as you might expect from a Macedonian entry. I love the alien scuttle along the strings there towards the beginning, and the percussive moments in Esma’s bits later on. In fact, take the vocals away and it comes across as far more together a composition than it ever does when you’ve got the two of them competing for your attention. Which is a pity, since that inevitably gets lost, and because Vlatko represents the country’s best chance at a formidable result in the contest if given the right material to work with. (Which is to say: not this.)
V: It really doesn’t want to come together any which way, much as Vlatko does a good job as the leading man. A couple of extra backing vocalists might have helped, since by song’s end the two they have – along with Esma – have descended into a shouty, off-key mess.
B: I suppose “Не е ко порано / Добрите времиња ги нема” could be in reference to the relative success of Crno i belo, or perhaps the fate that’s befallen Vlatko in having to share the stage (and indeed half his song) with Esma. Extra points for the use of the subjunctive.
A: There are some interesting flourishes here, as you might expect from a Macedonian entry. I love the alien scuttle along the strings there towards the beginning, and the percussive moments in Esma’s bits later on. In fact, take the vocals away and it comes across as far more together a composition than it ever does when you’ve got the two of them competing for your attention. Which is a pity, since that inevitably gets lost, and because Vlatko represents the country’s best chance at a formidable result in the contest if given the right material to work with. (Which is to say: not this.)
V: It really doesn’t want to come together any which way, much as Vlatko does a good job as the leading man. A couple of extra backing vocalists might have helped, since by song’s end the two they have – along with Esma – have descended into a shouty, off-key mess.
20
Azerbaijan
B: “If love was a mountain / I’d climb up to the highest of them all” is a nice sentiment.
A: It’s nice to see the Azeris branching out and shopping a little closer to home for their entry this year. (Given the economic situation, Greece was probably asking less.) (Not that anything as insignificant as expense would be likely to get in the way of Azerbaijan’s ambitions.) When I first heard this, I described it as punchy but punching under its weight, and I stand by that. I’m not arguing it doesn’t achieve what it sets out to, and it’s certainly strong, but it’s not as satisfying as the likes of Drip Drop, which did this sort of contemporary ballad thing far more effectively.
V: Given he’s wearing a vest and trousers, it’s amazing how chavtastic Farid’s outfit looks from a distance. Thankfully his nerves are only betrayed by the juddering of the hand holding his microphone; vocally he acquits himself admirably. I’m not sure he or any member of the Azeri delegation realises how gay the whole routine is, especially the bit where he and the guy in the box appear to be coveting each other’s arses. (But then that photo of them snuggling in the green room probably points to that more effectively than anything we see on stage.) The mystery of the invisible backing vocalists deepens.
B: “If love was a mountain / I’d climb up to the highest of them all” is a nice sentiment.
A: It’s nice to see the Azeris branching out and shopping a little closer to home for their entry this year. (Given the economic situation, Greece was probably asking less.) (Not that anything as insignificant as expense would be likely to get in the way of Azerbaijan’s ambitions.) When I first heard this, I described it as punchy but punching under its weight, and I stand by that. I’m not arguing it doesn’t achieve what it sets out to, and it’s certainly strong, but it’s not as satisfying as the likes of Drip Drop, which did this sort of contemporary ballad thing far more effectively.
V: Given he’s wearing a vest and trousers, it’s amazing how chavtastic Farid’s outfit looks from a distance. Thankfully his nerves are only betrayed by the juddering of the hand holding his microphone; vocally he acquits himself admirably. I’m not sure he or any member of the Azeri delegation realises how gay the whole routine is, especially the bit where he and the guy in the box appear to be coveting each other’s arses. (But then that photo of them snuggling in the green room probably points to that more effectively than anything we see on stage.) The mystery of the invisible backing vocalists deepens.
21
Finland
B: It’s even funny on paper. “I don’t think that I know ladies who would give you cuter babies / Isn’t that amazing?” is just one of the highlights of this, without doubt the most (and most successfully) tongue-in-cheek entry Eurovision’s given us in a long time. If people are still struggling to identify the tone, you only need to take a look at the second half of the chorus: “I’ll play your game, I’ll change my last name / I’ll walk the walk of shame / I’ll do it for you...”.
A: Unashamedly poptastic, and clever to boot. I love the way the bassline does its own thing throughout.
V: This is Eurovision-savvy, and for that matter television-savvy, in a way that Finland has never demonstrated before. For me it’s the best we get this year – very much a vocal and visual, ahem, marriage. It has loads of ESC staples but never feels like a rehash. The only criticism of it I have is that the reveal of the three bridesmaid goes a bit, well, unrevealed. The last few seconds of the performance are genius.
B: It’s even funny on paper. “I don’t think that I know ladies who would give you cuter babies / Isn’t that amazing?” is just one of the highlights of this, without doubt the most (and most successfully) tongue-in-cheek entry Eurovision’s given us in a long time. If people are still struggling to identify the tone, you only need to take a look at the second half of the chorus: “I’ll play your game, I’ll change my last name / I’ll walk the walk of shame / I’ll do it for you...”.
A: Unashamedly poptastic, and clever to boot. I love the way the bassline does its own thing throughout.
V: This is Eurovision-savvy, and for that matter television-savvy, in a way that Finland has never demonstrated before. For me it’s the best we get this year – very much a vocal and visual, ahem, marriage. It has loads of ESC staples but never feels like a rehash. The only criticism of it I have is that the reveal of the three bridesmaid goes a bit, well, unrevealed. The last few seconds of the performance are genius.
22
Malta
B: Hot on the bi-curious heels of Krista Siegfrids, Gianluca takes to the stage with one of the better narrative lyrics the contest has seen. By Maltese standards it’s a masterpiece, with some great lines likes “Risk assessment was his investment in a life of no surprise”.
A: This just sounds like something that could only come from a country that enjoys a lot of sunshine and warm weather. If they sang it in English, there’s no reason Portugal couldn’t be equally successful with something along the same lines.
V: Labelling any entry ‘Maltese’ is not usually a compliment, but this is very Maltese in a good way. Smily Gianluca sells the song effortlessly, and the words projected behind him actually add to the performance rather than distracting from it. It’s lovely to hear the crowd oh-ohhing along with him in the final, where he’s ever so marginally ahead of the backing track throughout. One thing I would like to know though is this: where does the park bench appear from at the end?
B: Hot on the bi-curious heels of Krista Siegfrids, Gianluca takes to the stage with one of the better narrative lyrics the contest has seen. By Maltese standards it’s a masterpiece, with some great lines likes “Risk assessment was his investment in a life of no surprise”.
A: This just sounds like something that could only come from a country that enjoys a lot of sunshine and warm weather. If they sang it in English, there’s no reason Portugal couldn’t be equally successful with something along the same lines.
V: Labelling any entry ‘Maltese’ is not usually a compliment, but this is very Maltese in a good way. Smily Gianluca sells the song effortlessly, and the words projected behind him actually add to the performance rather than distracting from it. It’s lovely to hear the crowd oh-ohhing along with him in the final, where he’s ever so marginally ahead of the backing track throughout. One thing I would like to know though is this: where does the park bench appear from at the end?
23
Bulgaria
B: You could draw a line down the centre of Europe and you wouldn’t find a single one of the villages they’re banging on about here anywhere on the left-hand side of it. The very essence of it seems so peculiarly Eastern European.
A: What a transformation this undergoes from the studio to the stage. As a piece of music it runs out of reasons to exist before it’s even clocked up a minute, with little of the intrinsic ethnic charm of its 2007 forerunner, despite (or perhaps because of) having so much of the stuff thrown at it. Every time it starts I forget myself and enthusiasm wells; but before I know it, I’m clamouring for its immediate and sometimes violent demise.
V: And yet when it appears on screen, it suddenly makes much more sense. It’s lifted by actually being able to hear the percussion, as Voda was in Helsinki. Elitsa’s equine movement is interesting, but the way she has to shove her microphone down her knickers in the instrumental break (and then retrieve it) is as awkward as the grannies’ animal-on-heat hee-hee-heeing in the background is offputting.
B: You could draw a line down the centre of Europe and you wouldn’t find a single one of the villages they’re banging on about here anywhere on the left-hand side of it. The very essence of it seems so peculiarly Eastern European.
A: What a transformation this undergoes from the studio to the stage. As a piece of music it runs out of reasons to exist before it’s even clocked up a minute, with little of the intrinsic ethnic charm of its 2007 forerunner, despite (or perhaps because of) having so much of the stuff thrown at it. Every time it starts I forget myself and enthusiasm wells; but before I know it, I’m clamouring for its immediate and sometimes violent demise.
V: And yet when it appears on screen, it suddenly makes much more sense. It’s lifted by actually being able to hear the percussion, as Voda was in Helsinki. Elitsa’s equine movement is interesting, but the way she has to shove her microphone down her knickers in the instrumental break (and then retrieve it) is as awkward as the grannies’ animal-on-heat hee-hee-heeing in the background is offputting.
24
Iceland
B: And so we switch to the Jesus channel – assuming you take “Og ég trúi því, já ég trúi því / Kannski opnast fagrar gáttir himins / Yfir flæðir fegursta ástin hún umvefur mig alein” to mean exactly that, rather than being a metaphor for the far more mundane love of his life.
A: Pétur Örn Guðmundsson and Örlygur Smári are clearly becoming the Ralph Siegelsson of the national final scene in Iceland. They deserve an award for this, though: in spite of the competition it faces, nothing beats Ég á lif when it comes to sounding quite so seamlessly transplanted into the modern contest from ca 1995. The Icelandic only adds to it, largely because that was about the last time we heard it in ESC. The arrangement throws up some interesting touches (including the bazouki-like probably-just-a-banjo), but none of them do anything to drag the song into the 21st century.
V: What with Eyðór’s facefuzz and darker eyebrows, his hair almost looks like a comedy wig. He’s a great singer, and I do like the way the backing vocalists emerge like that, but it’s all still hopelessly old-school.
B: And so we switch to the Jesus channel – assuming you take “Og ég trúi því, já ég trúi því / Kannski opnast fagrar gáttir himins / Yfir flæðir fegursta ástin hún umvefur mig alein” to mean exactly that, rather than being a metaphor for the far more mundane love of his life.
A: Pétur Örn Guðmundsson and Örlygur Smári are clearly becoming the Ralph Siegelsson of the national final scene in Iceland. They deserve an award for this, though: in spite of the competition it faces, nothing beats Ég á lif when it comes to sounding quite so seamlessly transplanted into the modern contest from ca 1995. The Icelandic only adds to it, largely because that was about the last time we heard it in ESC. The arrangement throws up some interesting touches (including the bazouki-like probably-just-a-banjo), but none of them do anything to drag the song into the 21st century.
V: What with Eyðór’s facefuzz and darker eyebrows, his hair almost looks like a comedy wig. He’s a great singer, and I do like the way the backing vocalists emerge like that, but it’s all still hopelessly old-school.
25
Greece
B: Positively sardonic. The message is lost of course on those who haven’t gone to the trouble of translating it or had it translated for them (like viewers of the YLE and ETV broadcasts), but since it works perfectly well on another level without that knowledge, it doesn’t really matter.
A: Whether or not you like it, you can’t deny how catchy it is.
V: Both musically and in terms of the way it’s staged, this has a lot more in common with recent Moldovan entries than it does with anything Greek, which is why it works as well as it does: put the two together and it was always going to excel. It’s hard to find three minutes in Malmö that are more fun than this, or indeed sexier – even with grandad getting so much screen time. I just wish they were showing a bit more (hairy) leg.
B: Positively sardonic. The message is lost of course on those who haven’t gone to the trouble of translating it or had it translated for them (like viewers of the YLE and ETV broadcasts), but since it works perfectly well on another level without that knowledge, it doesn’t really matter.
A: Whether or not you like it, you can’t deny how catchy it is.
V: Both musically and in terms of the way it’s staged, this has a lot more in common with recent Moldovan entries than it does with anything Greek, which is why it works as well as it does: put the two together and it was always going to excel. It’s hard to find three minutes in Malmö that are more fun than this, or indeed sexier – even with grandad getting so much screen time. I just wish they were showing a bit more (hairy) leg.
26
Israel
B: Again, depending how you interpret it, we could well be back on God TV here – only this time the Icelandic Ð and Þ have been replaced with the Hebrew כ and ך. I’m sure it’s all wonderfully poetic, but the repetition in the chorus seems a bit half-arsed.
A: This puts me immediately in mind of Milim, although it’s not as attractive a composition. There’s still a lot to like about it, but after something as unaffected (and successful for it) as the Greek entry, it invariably seems more po-faced than it perhaps is.
V: The statuesque Ms Mazor, and indeed her female backing vocalist, could have stepped straight off the set of an ’80s soap, where they would undoubtedly have just called each other bitches and ended up in a fountain clawing at each other’s big hair. The vocals are even bigger; I’m still surprised the juries didn’t go for them enough to see it through.
B: Again, depending how you interpret it, we could well be back on God TV here – only this time the Icelandic Ð and Þ have been replaced with the Hebrew כ and ך. I’m sure it’s all wonderfully poetic, but the repetition in the chorus seems a bit half-arsed.
A: This puts me immediately in mind of Milim, although it’s not as attractive a composition. There’s still a lot to like about it, but after something as unaffected (and successful for it) as the Greek entry, it invariably seems more po-faced than it perhaps is.
V: The statuesque Ms Mazor, and indeed her female backing vocalist, could have stepped straight off the set of an ’80s soap, where they would undoubtedly have just called each other bitches and ended up in a fountain clawing at each other’s big hair. The vocals are even bigger; I’m still surprised the juries didn’t go for them enough to see it through.
27
Armenia
B: There’s nothing like a bit of product placement amongst all the preaching. True, it’s styled like a protest anthem rather than your typical Praise-Jeebuz guff, but it’s fooling no one.
A: The good work in the opening verse is undermined by the introduction of the organ and electric guitar, which have ‘Christian rock’ written all over them. It’s a solid enough piece of music on the whole, but catastrophically unengaging given the message it’s peddling.
V: The lead singer has an oddly shaped nose, but it doesn’t seem to inhibit his ability to sing. I wonder which of his hirsute fellow Dorians is the fantastically named Gagik. And also whether the hand-in-the-air thing is some secret sign, like a Masonic handshake, to the God-fearing televoters that they have the divine nod to vote for the song. Great lighting.
B: There’s nothing like a bit of product placement amongst all the preaching. True, it’s styled like a protest anthem rather than your typical Praise-Jeebuz guff, but it’s fooling no one.
A: The good work in the opening verse is undermined by the introduction of the organ and electric guitar, which have ‘Christian rock’ written all over them. It’s a solid enough piece of music on the whole, but catastrophically unengaging given the message it’s peddling.
V: The lead singer has an oddly shaped nose, but it doesn’t seem to inhibit his ability to sing. I wonder which of his hirsute fellow Dorians is the fantastically named Gagik. And also whether the hand-in-the-air thing is some secret sign, like a Masonic handshake, to the God-fearing televoters that they have the divine nod to vote for the song. Great lighting.
28
Hungary
B: Deceptively simple, these lyrics, and yet with such glorious imagery in lines like “Kócos haját reggelente / Szelek fonják” and “Rozmaringból készít hintót / Tücskök húzzák”. Just adorable, and so right for the song.
A: Beguiling. There’s not a single element here, not a single note even, that doesn’t feel right. It’s one of the most sincere entries Eurovision has seen in a long time, and the contest is all the better for it.
V: This is arguably the most eye-catching performance of the contest in terms of the backdrop. It’s nice to see Helga Wéber on backing vocals again, and doing just as good a job as she did last year on Sound of Our Hearts. There’s no way around the fact that ByeAlex is wide of the mark in pretty much every chorus in the semi, and then again in the first verse and towards the end in the final, but it only seems to underscore the song’s unpretentious appeal. The way he says “This is for Hungary!” at the end is so sweet.
B: Deceptively simple, these lyrics, and yet with such glorious imagery in lines like “Kócos haját reggelente / Szelek fonják” and “Rozmaringból készít hintót / Tücskök húzzák”. Just adorable, and so right for the song.
A: Beguiling. There’s not a single element here, not a single note even, that doesn’t feel right. It’s one of the most sincere entries Eurovision has seen in a long time, and the contest is all the better for it.
V: This is arguably the most eye-catching performance of the contest in terms of the backdrop. It’s nice to see Helga Wéber on backing vocals again, and doing just as good a job as she did last year on Sound of Our Hearts. There’s no way around the fact that ByeAlex is wide of the mark in pretty much every chorus in the semi, and then again in the first verse and towards the end in the final, but it only seems to underscore the song’s unpretentious appeal. The way he says “This is for Hungary!” at the end is so sweet.
29
Norway
B: What a convincing and confident piece of song-writing this is. I’m not sure I know what it all means, but it’s full of compelling ideas. “I’ve got the future on my tongue” is even good for a snigger. Win-win.
A: Back-to-back entries that do the contest the world of good. You have to be willing to sacrifice yourself to that initial onslaught of electronica to revel in the rest of this, but you’re rewarded in spades if you do. Ms Berger puts an unusual twist on the pronunciation of the opening line that makes it sound like she’s singing “Like a queen in a tree” as opposed to the cocoon of which the lyrics purport to speak.
V: Fantastic backing vocals, as you might expect given the trio providing them. Very much a sense of something that knows what it’s about here. It really is brilliant, and one of very few songs and performances that will outlive its place in the context of the 2013 contest.
B: What a convincing and confident piece of song-writing this is. I’m not sure I know what it all means, but it’s full of compelling ideas. “I’ve got the future on my tongue” is even good for a snigger. Win-win.
A: Back-to-back entries that do the contest the world of good. You have to be willing to sacrifice yourself to that initial onslaught of electronica to revel in the rest of this, but you’re rewarded in spades if you do. Ms Berger puts an unusual twist on the pronunciation of the opening line that makes it sound like she’s singing “Like a queen in a tree” as opposed to the cocoon of which the lyrics purport to speak.
V: Fantastic backing vocals, as you might expect given the trio providing them. Very much a sense of something that knows what it’s about here. It really is brilliant, and one of very few songs and performances that will outlive its place in the context of the 2013 contest.
30
Albania
B: If it wasn’t for the enduring popularity of this kind of music in that part of the world, I’d be tempted to suggest it was the lyrics alone that won it for them. Quite the nationalist sentiment, without tipping over into jingoism, and accessible enough to speak to anyone. (Well, provided they speak Albanian.) “Se kur ndava ëndrrën gjeta / Një rreze dritë, pak frymë si ti” is rather romantic, whatever it’s referring to.
A: The orchestral line running through this saves it from total ignominy, but it’s hard to overlook that it forgets to have a chorus.
V: I’m not sure about Russell Branduraj’s quiff, but he sounds alright. The other one looks and sounds like he should be on a register. (Then again, they all look pretty dodgy.) Good use of fireworks.
B: If it wasn’t for the enduring popularity of this kind of music in that part of the world, I’d be tempted to suggest it was the lyrics alone that won it for them. Quite the nationalist sentiment, without tipping over into jingoism, and accessible enough to speak to anyone. (Well, provided they speak Albanian.) “Se kur ndava ëndrrën gjeta / Një rreze dritë, pak frymë si ti” is rather romantic, whatever it’s referring to.
A: The orchestral line running through this saves it from total ignominy, but it’s hard to overlook that it forgets to have a chorus.
V: I’m not sure about Russell Branduraj’s quiff, but he sounds alright. The other one looks and sounds like he should be on a register. (Then again, they all look pretty dodgy.) Good use of fireworks.
31
Georgia
B: Cheeky of G:Son to namecheck his own entry in the second verse. “Your love is pouring down on me” could account for why Margaret Berger has the future on her tongue if she’s been anywhere near Nodi.
A: Speaking of songs that overlook the need for a chorus... Well, that’s a little unfair, since this one does have one, and the fact that it’s not as distinguished from the rest of the song makes sense as part of the overall concept. But still. Great harmonies; terrible accents.
V: If there was ever an entry so unabashedly blatant in its intent to emulate a recent winner, this is it. People bang on about it being Quédate conmigo, Part II, and sure, it bears a resemblance to its Spanish stablemate because of the very stable it’s emerged from. But everything about this is designed to succeed in the same way Running Scared did – and it doesn’t. It’s all far too rehearsed. I mean, everything is, obviously, but few are as mechanical as this, giving lie to the natural movement and power central to the song itself. Sopho has a lovely frock, but she’s actually pretty shrill on the big note in the semi.
B: Cheeky of G:Son to namecheck his own entry in the second verse. “Your love is pouring down on me” could account for why Margaret Berger has the future on her tongue if she’s been anywhere near Nodi.
A: Speaking of songs that overlook the need for a chorus... Well, that’s a little unfair, since this one does have one, and the fact that it’s not as distinguished from the rest of the song makes sense as part of the overall concept. But still. Great harmonies; terrible accents.
V: If there was ever an entry so unabashedly blatant in its intent to emulate a recent winner, this is it. People bang on about it being Quédate conmigo, Part II, and sure, it bears a resemblance to its Spanish stablemate because of the very stable it’s emerged from. But everything about this is designed to succeed in the same way Running Scared did – and it doesn’t. It’s all far too rehearsed. I mean, everything is, obviously, but few are as mechanical as this, giving lie to the natural movement and power central to the song itself. Sopho has a lovely frock, but she’s actually pretty shrill on the big note in the semi.
32
Switzerland
B: The icing on the communion wafer. It’s not as effective an emetic as What If, but it still has you dry-retching into the toilet bowl. Which is its only rightful place.
A: I’ve always found this incongruously murky for something which seems to be striving for anthem status. (Or even if it’s not.) The Ruslana-lite ‘hey!’s feel totally out of place, and the whole thing’s so unvaried and plodding. If I’m honest, it’s the kind of thing that makes me wish Switzerland would just go away and not come back till they realise how clueless they are. Decent entries are fewer and farther between the longer they insist on taking part.
V: Lame. At least there’s the distraction of the blond guy at the end, who is devilishly handsome. The old boy propping up the double bass (or is it there to prop him up?) looks like he couldn’t tell you what day it is, bless him.
B: The icing on the communion wafer. It’s not as effective an emetic as What If, but it still has you dry-retching into the toilet bowl. Which is its only rightful place.
A: I’ve always found this incongruously murky for something which seems to be striving for anthem status. (Or even if it’s not.) The Ruslana-lite ‘hey!’s feel totally out of place, and the whole thing’s so unvaried and plodding. If I’m honest, it’s the kind of thing that makes me wish Switzerland would just go away and not come back till they realise how clueless they are. Decent entries are fewer and farther between the longer they insist on taking part.
V: Lame. At least there’s the distraction of the blond guy at the end, who is devilishly handsome. The old boy propping up the double bass (or is it there to prop him up?) looks like he couldn’t tell you what day it is, bless him.
33
Romania
B: Fire–desire
A: I’d like to able to say I enjoy this more without the vocals, but I can’t. And since I can’t say I enjoy it with the vocals either, it’s probably best to say nothing at all.
V: I’m sure Cezar’s a very talented vocalist, but that doesn’t make this song – or popera in general – a good idea. It explains why the televoters fell for it the way they did though, given that it’s the kind of thing Nowhere’s Got Talent audiences so often seem to go for. God knows why anyone thought plonking him in the middle of a miscarriage would make for effective staging though, and I’ve no idea at all what the choreography’s meant to be about. In our last chance tonight, has anyone worked out where the backing vocalists are?
B: Fire–desire
A: I’d like to able to say I enjoy this more without the vocals, but I can’t. And since I can’t say I enjoy it with the vocals either, it’s probably best to say nothing at all.
V: I’m sure Cezar’s a very talented vocalist, but that doesn’t make this song – or popera in general – a good idea. It explains why the televoters fell for it the way they did though, given that it’s the kind of thing Nowhere’s Got Talent audiences so often seem to go for. God knows why anyone thought plonking him in the middle of a miscarriage would make for effective staging though, and I’ve no idea at all what the choreography’s meant to be about. In our last chance tonight, has anyone worked out where the backing vocalists are?
34
France
B: The years have clearly not been kind to lyricist Boris Bergman if the transformation from the Monegasque innocence of Un train qui parte and Une chanson c’est une lettre to the unapologetic violence and sadomasochistic overtones of this number are anything to go by.
A: This is straight off the soundtrack to the French version of Kill Bill. When I gave all of this year’s songs a first listen, there were only really two that drew me in and held my attention from go to woe – this and the Dutch entry. It’s compelling stuff, and so utterly French. Although I’ve long since found out where it goes, I always love retracing the route.
V: Amandine sounds amazing and certainly ticks all the rock-chick boxes – even if you know better, you just assume she’s littering the lyrics with profanities. Against the odds, it makes for a great opener.
B: The years have clearly not been kind to lyricist Boris Bergman if the transformation from the Monegasque innocence of Un train qui parte and Une chanson c’est une lettre to the unapologetic violence and sadomasochistic overtones of this number are anything to go by.
A: This is straight off the soundtrack to the French version of Kill Bill. When I gave all of this year’s songs a first listen, there were only really two that drew me in and held my attention from go to woe – this and the Dutch entry. It’s compelling stuff, and so utterly French. Although I’ve long since found out where it goes, I always love retracing the route.
V: Amandine sounds amazing and certainly ticks all the rock-chick boxes – even if you know better, you just assume she’s littering the lyrics with profanities. Against the odds, it makes for a great opener.
35
Spain
B: What’s up with the Spanish always having illusions?
A: That bagpipe opening is like the musical equivalent of a costume change, only at the start of the song rather than the end. It makes you think you’re in for Ireland ’07 all over again, a notion which the otherwise charming first verse does little to dispel. Under other circumstances I might have said it’s a good thing we didn’t get a repeat of They Can’t Stop the Spring, but given what ESDM do give us, I’m not so sure. In and of itself it’s completely inoffensive, and possibly even has redeeming features, but in Eurovision terms it’s just useless.
V: There are moments where this almost sounds alright. Not many, but some. The launching of the lanterns is a nice touch.
B: What’s up with the Spanish always having illusions?
A: That bagpipe opening is like the musical equivalent of a costume change, only at the start of the song rather than the end. It makes you think you’re in for Ireland ’07 all over again, a notion which the otherwise charming first verse does little to dispel. Under other circumstances I might have said it’s a good thing we didn’t get a repeat of They Can’t Stop the Spring, but given what ESDM do give us, I’m not so sure. In and of itself it’s completely inoffensive, and possibly even has redeeming features, but in Eurovision terms it’s just useless.
V: There are moments where this almost sounds alright. Not many, but some. The launching of the lanterns is a nice touch.
36
Germany
B: Aah, so that line’s not “We are young and hard and we’re free” after all!
A: The dancefloor fillers took a bit of a hammering this year, and fair enough I suppose – they’re designed to be a bit lowest-common-denominator, so there has to be something remarkable about them for them to really stand out. And nothing much does about Glorious. (Not that I’m suggesting they don’t have their place.) The parallels with Euphoria are overemphasised.
V: There’s no particular reason it should, but this misfires on all cylinders. Apart from anything else, it’s crying out for far more than two backing vocalists. The version they use doesn’t do it many favours either, lending it a slightly odd structure.
B: Aah, so that line’s not “We are young and hard and we’re free” after all!
A: The dancefloor fillers took a bit of a hammering this year, and fair enough I suppose – they’re designed to be a bit lowest-common-denominator, so there has to be something remarkable about them for them to really stand out. And nothing much does about Glorious. (Not that I’m suggesting they don’t have their place.) The parallels with Euphoria are overemphasised.
V: There’s no particular reason it should, but this misfires on all cylinders. Apart from anything else, it’s crying out for far more than two backing vocalists. The version they use doesn’t do it many favours either, lending it a slightly odd structure.
37
United Kingdom
B: This is a decent set of lyrics, although I can’t help but visualise the protagonist as some Terry Gilliam animation shuffling across the screen in a Monty Python sketch, especially on the line “You never see the rainbow, you just curse the rain”.
A: Perfectly acceptable underwhelming fare from the UK for the second year in a row. You can see where they’re going with the song, and you can see that they haven’t got a clue why it’s the wrong direction to have picked. Out of context it’s a very together piece of music that doesn’t do much wrong, but there’s little point in attempting to divorce it from reality.
V: Arnold George Dorsey passes the torch to Gaynor Hopkins. They might as well have stuck to their real monikers for all the Eurovision success their stage names brought them. Like the last remaining evidence of some long-forgotten civilisation, Botox Bonnie sounds like she’s one more performance away from total ruin. (Is this in a slightly lower key, by the way, or slowed down?) When you consider that she probably wouldn’t have sounded worse belting out a lesser take on Total Eclipse of the Heart, they might as well have given her something along those lines instead so that people would at least recognise her for who she once was.
B: This is a decent set of lyrics, although I can’t help but visualise the protagonist as some Terry Gilliam animation shuffling across the screen in a Monty Python sketch, especially on the line “You never see the rainbow, you just curse the rain”.
A: Perfectly acceptable underwhelming fare from the UK for the second year in a row. You can see where they’re going with the song, and you can see that they haven’t got a clue why it’s the wrong direction to have picked. Out of context it’s a very together piece of music that doesn’t do much wrong, but there’s little point in attempting to divorce it from reality.
V: Arnold George Dorsey passes the torch to Gaynor Hopkins. They might as well have stuck to their real monikers for all the Eurovision success their stage names brought them. Like the last remaining evidence of some long-forgotten civilisation, Botox Bonnie sounds like she’s one more performance away from total ruin. (Is this in a slightly lower key, by the way, or slowed down?) When you consider that she probably wouldn’t have sounded worse belting out a lesser take on Total Eclipse of the Heart, they might as well have given her something along those lines instead so that people would at least recognise her for who she once was.
38
Sweden
B: I do like the way this works on an intimate one-to-one level as well as a sort of takk så mycket Sverige.
A: This is one of my favourite pieces of music this year, despite sounding like it was penned for an advertising jingle. It really captures the spirit of the lyrics. Or rather they it.
V: Uniformly hideous outfits and an odd routine make this seem cobbled together at the last minute, which it clearly wasn’t. On this evidence it really didn’t deserve to do as well as it did with the juries, unless of course it came together much more effectively the night before. Robin puts me in mind of Clare Balding, for some reason.
B: I do like the way this works on an intimate one-to-one level as well as a sort of takk så mycket Sverige.
A: This is one of my favourite pieces of music this year, despite sounding like it was penned for an advertising jingle. It really captures the spirit of the lyrics. Or rather they it.
V: Uniformly hideous outfits and an odd routine make this seem cobbled together at the last minute, which it clearly wasn’t. On this evidence it really didn’t deserve to do as well as it did with the juries, unless of course it came together much more effectively the night before. Robin puts me in mind of Clare Balding, for some reason.
39
Italy
B: Although I find these lyrics a bit dense in places, there’s something very true and romantic about much of them – “Mentre il mondo cade a pezzi / ... / Tornerò all’origine / Torno a te che sei per me, l’essenziale” in particular.
A: Gorgeous arrangement. Classy in a way that elevates it above most of the other balladry in the contest, but not particularly innovative – and for that reason alone I don’t think it’s worth quite as much praise as has been heaped on it. For me it’s reliably solid in the way that each of the last few Italian entries has been, but falls short of being truly great.
V: I dunno if it’s the make-up – too much bronzer on an already olive complexion? – but Marco looks like his head’s about to explode. He has no idea what to do with his hands. He seems to approach the whole thing with an amusing but not really admirable indifference.
B: Although I find these lyrics a bit dense in places, there’s something very true and romantic about much of them – “Mentre il mondo cade a pezzi / ... / Tornerò all’origine / Torno a te che sei per me, l’essenziale” in particular.
A: Gorgeous arrangement. Classy in a way that elevates it above most of the other balladry in the contest, but not particularly innovative – and for that reason alone I don’t think it’s worth quite as much praise as has been heaped on it. For me it’s reliably solid in the way that each of the last few Italian entries has been, but falls short of being truly great.
V: I dunno if it’s the make-up – too much bronzer on an already olive complexion? – but Marco looks like his head’s about to explode. He has no idea what to do with his hands. He seems to approach the whole thing with an amusing but not really admirable indifference.
And
so to the points...
1
point goes to Moldova
2
points go to Denmark
3
points go to Ukraine
4
points go to France
5
points go to Hungary
6
points go to the Netherlands
7
points go to Montenegro
8
points go to Belgium
10
points go to Finland
and
finally...
12
points go to...
Norway!
The
wooden spoon is awarded to Switzerland.
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