2000

As pretentious as it sounds to say it, this contest represents the renaissance of Eurovision.

01 Israel
B: Putting the lines together thus – “Veyesh li achshav chaver chadash miDamesek / Ani rotsa la’asot et ze ito kol hayom / Im lo egmor, ze yigamer mamash bebum / Ani rotsa melafefon” – you get some of the filthiest lyrics ever to grace a Eurovision entry.
A: I love the way this manages to be so vibrant and so monotone at the same time: it seems to fit the song perfectly. As does how repetitive it is, while still managing to surprise you every now and then for the neat little things it does musically.
V: About the only Israeli entry which awful [backing] vocals can’t ruin. Come the two-minute mark it’s completely lost what limited energy it had to begin with.

02 The Netherlands
B: That entire second verse – capped off by “It’s time for us to sing a different song” – is so much more relevant now than it ever could have been coming straight after the relatively dizzy heights of Hemel en aarde and One Good Reason.
A: While the synths are irritating, the Spanishesque guitar is great. But this just doesn’t hold my interest in the way the Israeli entry does.
V: Surely dubbing this a ‘mini-musical’ was the height of conceited self-delusion given it’s little more than a big dress, excessive make-up and two and a half minutes of people running around on stage clapping and looking daft in a way that only Dutch supporting artists at Eurovision seem able to. Linda is positively Maltese in how small, round and silver she is.

03 United Kingdom
B: I’m glad crying in vain was never for Nikki French, given the drubbing this would come in for.
A: Marvellous uptempo start to the contest, but there’s little indication of variety or inspiration. Not that you can lay the blame at the UK’s door – this is more than Nikki’s bread and butter: it’s French toast. As in, tempting in its way but a little hard to digest, and it never seems as good an idea after the fact as it did before.
V: They look like the cast of some BBC hospital drama doing a bad cabaret act for charity. The choreography is appalling, but the vocals are uniformly good, and the stage looks fantastic.

04 Estonia
B: “If you give me wings and reason why / Then I’ll be an angel in your sky” is pretty decent by Jana Hallas’ standards. As usual, a few nonsensical bits threaten to derail the whole thing, but never in a way that significantly detracts from the pop-my-cherry coquettishness of it all.
A: The most seamless faux-Swedish cut-and-paste job Eurovision has ever produced. Surprisingly attractive, even today.
V: With the best will in the world, this sounds horribly ragged. Ines is the epitome of a performer’s nerves infiltrating their vocals. Terry Wogan’s remark that she was wearing trousers so tight you could see what she’d had for breakfast is one of my favourite Eurovision one-liners.

05 France
B: “Un goût d’orange, cannelle, on s’envole toi et moi” underscores how sensual and exotic these lyrics are. The way they slip and slide is so appropriate.
A: This is an acoustic and percussive masterpiece from the off, so the fact it then adds strings and a piano only makes me love it more. Sofia’s rich voice is the perfect match for a song of its nature, musically and lyrically.
V: Sofia makes the song sound gorgeous, as you might expect, but unlike Ines she betrays her nerves through her inability to connect in any shape or form with the camera and, by extension, the audience. So you can understand why it failed to score more than a handful of points: televoters are bad enough at times at rewarding true quality without it being presented to them at such a distance.

06 Romania
B: Not quite as evocative as On aura le ciel, but certainly as romantic. The words speak a little more simply, and there’s nothing wrong with that.
A: The first minute and a half is unadulterated aural ecstasy. They earn bonus points for the aptly sweeping, echoey production. The electric-guitar solo fits the exuberance of the story that’s being told as it reaches its culmination but, as ever, I’d rather it wasn’t there.
V: Dan Teodorescu looks a little bit like Yoko Ono doing an impersonation of John Lennon.

07 Malta
B: A bit corny in places, these lyrics, but they work. The “Dejjem ridtek / Dejjem xtaqtek / Lilek ћabbejt” interlude shows how you can inject a bit of national flavour into an otherwise all-English song and make it work.
A: ‘Vivacious’ is the first word that springs to mind whenever I hear this. I think it’s Philip Vella’s best composition at Eurovision, or at least his cleverest, since every aspect of it captures the colour and mood of the lyrics and performer.
V: I love Claudette. 2000 was the last bastion of the middle-aged at Eurovision, wasn’t it? The vocal touches they add to this live are brilliant, and outsourcing the backing to the hosts here was a greater stroke of genius for Malta than in perhaps any other year.

08 Norway
B: There are some great lines in amongst this lot, including “…suddenly I saw you there / A stunning sight from God knows where / …looking quite impossible”. Having said that, there’s more than enough pop elsewhere for me that they really could ‘lose the popsicle’.
A: Sleigh bells ring... are you listening? The tone for the entire song is set within its opening bars: you just know it’s going to be utterly vapid in a fabulous kind of way. Not that the composer was slacking off; Poland clearly thought bits of the tune were worth pinching for their next entry. Simple but very effective key change.
V: There’s something peculiarly Norwegian about this performance that I can’t put my finger on. Good though, despite the dodgy vocals here and there. The messed-up harmonies in the bridge (‘something blue in perfect tune’) are one of the most sublime moments of backfiring vocals at Eurovision, like, ever. And the visual effects are great.

09 Russia
B: There’s something about these lyrics that makes me suspect Andrew Lane and Brandon Barnes are pseudonyms for a couple of Russians whose English is not perfect.
A: It doesn’t really matter whether this is any good, because it’s the only song so far to actually sound like something you might have heard on a radio station or chart show at the time. And it’s certainly competent. I’m not sure it’s aged very well, but it has its charms.
V: An early indication of Russia’s knack for knocking out proper-soundings songs in the contest in the new era. Alsou doesn’t sound much better than Ines in places, but the routine’s spot-on, and at least she’s confident staring down the barrel of Camera 1.

10 Belgium
B: Despite the gospel aspirations and lines like “Suivent la seule étoile à la gloire du Dieu vivant”, it took me forever to realise this was a lobby song. Probably because I thought they were singing “Come on! Vivre sans amour!” and that seemed to take the emphasis away from good Christian values. Unless they were preaching abstinence.
A: If we have to have new-millennium praise-Jeebuz in Eurovision, it might as well be like this. However incongruous my affection for it is, it remains as strong as ever.
V: Why do I get the impression none of them have ever had to perform anything this upbeat before? The vocals are generally good (and the second backing vocalist from the right can preach to me any time he likes), but as a performance it just doesn’t work.

11 Cyprus
B: I’ve always liked the mix of Greek and Italian here.
A: After Sti fotia, Alex was never going to return to the contest with anything less atmospheric – which probably explains why he didn’t seek on-screen credits for My Number One or This Is Our Night – and this only cranks it up a notch. His vocals blend with Christina’s in a way that adds to both and without detracting from either. As you might expect, it’s all rather melodramatic, but so what.
V: Vocal powerhouse, the pair of them. Not sure the colour scheme works.

12 Iceland
B: I love the way these lyrics capture the sense of that point in a relationship where absolutely anything seems possible.
A: 10 years after Eit lag enn, this is just as retro (and just as much fun) but feels completely different: sort of effortless, and much more authentic, with an easy appeal and some great hooks. I’m still surprised it didn’t do better, to be honest.
V: There were lots of skirts on men in 2000, weren’t there. More power to them! Telma’s inexperience is obvious but doesn’t get in the way of a fun performance.

13 Spain
B: Do you think that in lines like “Aquí no hay límites a mis deseos / … / Aquí hay espacio para mis anhelos / Todo se puede cumplir” Serafín’s saying “being blind’s not all bad”?*
A: Everything about this is perfect except the chorus, which is pedestrian and boring and displays none of the ingenuity of arrangement that the verses and bridges boast.
V: *If so, I’d tend to agree, since at least he can’t see how they’ve dressed him and made him up to look like a spray-tanned priest with a Lisa Stansfield kiss-curl. He sounds good, as do his backing vocalists, but the only thing I ever remember about this performance is that the video screens fail to form a single line at the end. And that says it all.

14 Denmark
B: A set of lyrics that prove you can get a message across just as effectively by keeping it to the point. That said, the “There’s just one more thing I’d like to add” bit is cute.
A: The first time I heard Fly on the Wings of Love, I was surprised at how consistently good it was: it made me want to listen to it again and again. And indeed I did. Even now, it still wins me over. This and Belgium were my unassailable pre-contest favourites.
V: Oh so personable. The audience love it from the off, and so do I.

15 Germany
B: Actually quite clever, these lyrics. They’re made much more palatable by the self-deprecating introduction.
A: This is too together to go to the bother of criticising it. And given it is what it is, doing so would seem churlish.
V: It’s easy to see why this did as well as it did. All it’s missing are gold chains.

16 Switzerland
B: It’s normally only French that manages to take a set of fairly banal lyrics and turn them into something that looks and sounds poetic, but the Italian pulls it off here. Reading the English translation makes it seem very ho-hum, but the actual words have something about them that suits the song perfectly.
A: Pretty much the same could be said of the music. It’s indicative of Switzerland still not really having a clue when it comes to Eurovision, but it’s a thing of beauty in its own way.
V: Jane and her mauve frock are like a premonition of the Bulgarian entry in Athens, right down to her coming across as slightly uncomfortable with the vocals until she gets the green light to let rip with them. The backing vocals are altogether too heavy-handed for my liking, but the whole thing comes together nicely for the final note, which is beguiling.

17 Croatia
B: “Sve svijeće svijeta nek se za nas upale” is an unexpected alliterative highlight in an otherwise typically economical set of Balkan lyrics.
A: Croatian entries clearly have a more distinctive sound than most people realise: this couldn’t come from anywhere else. It’s lovely.
V: Goran Karan looks almost Native American here. Beautiful vocals from one and all, but the performance as a whole is a bit lacklustre.

18 Sweden
B: For an entry imbued with so much meaning in its music and performance, its lyrics don’t actually mean all that much when you think about them. They probably think they do, but they don’t. It’s not a dealbreaker, but still.
A: The way they approach this as a composition has never sat very comfortably with me. It’s like the obvious idea of how something like this should sound, but in reality it ought to sound completely different. More like the bridge and less like... well, all the other bits. The synthesised brass certainly doesn’t make me want to try and like it more.
V: Utterly mad and awfully directed (did they all get a bit overexcited in the gallery at this point?), but it sounds enormous. Perhaps that explains why it did so well. I’m not sure anything else does.

19 FYR Macedonia
B: Vlado Janevski penned these lyrics?! I suppose that lends them a modicum of weight. The Macedonian bits paint the girls as the over-pampered, under-talented wannabes they are well enough, so I guess I shouldn’t complain. (“I nemoj da zaboraviš večerva da me sonuvaš” is particularly conceited and therefore perfect for a posse of spoilt teens.) The English ones turn the concept on its head, but I suppose all they were going for was fit.
A: When they’re just doing the chorus, in studio, with lots of tweaking and the memory of the twangly Macedonian bits offsetting the poptart whole, this sounds great.
V: LOL, it’s like an audition for Junior Eurovision, with some of the flattest harmonies (and vocals) Eurovision has ever heard.

20 Finland
B: “Dull monotone”.
A: I hadn’t realised what an international pile of poo this is: at least four nationalities and they still can’t make it sound any less like a Sunday-school campfire number.
V: Where in The Bible does it sanction perms that hideous? It’s alarmingly easy to distinguish the Finns from the Dutch vocalists on stage. Lovely backdrop.

21 Latvia
B: Typically Latvian lyrics in terms of how all over the shop they are, but dodgy grammar can’t hide how good lines like “Pretend there are things you just don’t know in spite someone’s told you are so cute” are.
A: Gorgeous, and in ways you never expect it to be.
V: Puts Germany in the shade. I love the organic feel of the lighting and visuals. The lads certainly know how to sell the song.

22 Turkey
B: The rhythm and delivery of “Duyuyor musun kırgın sessizliğimi, sustuğum anda?” are perfect for what it’s saying. Lovely lyrics generally.
A: Perfect choice of instruments here, personifying and punctuating (and thus elevating) the lyrics. It’s just so right.
V: This is utterly Turkish and not Turkish at all. It sounds fantastic, but more importantly feels great. Selim Öncel can squeeze my bellows any time he likes.

23 Ireland
B: My eyes are rolling before I’ve reached the end of the first line.
A: Whether or not this came 6th, it’s still Ireland showing it’s slipped further out of touch with the contest. The sentiment is more vomit-inducing than Belgium’s happy-clappy Godathon.
V: The Swedish girls I got chatting to in Globen did a comedy double-take when Eamonn Toal started singing this. “My God! Is he for real?” one of them turned to me and exclaimed in horror. At least the vocals do them justice.

24 Austria
B: This is a great set of lyrics which earns bonus points for not being lazy (i.e. adding a couple of new lines to the final chorus).
A: Just as authentic a retro number as Tell Me! (if not more so), largely thanks to the vocals. Composer Dave Moskin was hard done by with the result this and Reflection got, really. As indeed was Austria.
V: All they needed was Whoopi Goldberg and the Sister Act would have been complete! In fact they could have done with some backing, just to take the full weight of the vocals off their shoulders. That said, I still love their performance, bum first note or no: they look great, they sound right and they really look like they’re enjoying themselves. Wins me over every time.


And so to the points...

1 point goes to Estonia

2 points go to Cyprus

3 points go to Croatia

4 points go to Malta

5 points go to Romania

6 points go to Austria

7 points go to France

8 points go to Latvia

10 points go to Denmark

and finally...

12 points go to...


Turkey!


The wooden spoon is awarded, somewhat unexpectedly, to the Netherlands.

1999

With special guest: Terry Wogan. I’d happily shove 13 songs in my top 10 if I could.

01 Lithuania
B: You can understand why Lithuanian artists stick to first names on the international stage when they would otherwise be offloading patronyms like Smilgevičiūtė on everyone*. As for the lyrics, they’re some of the most poetic to ever to have graced the Eurovision stage. 
A: There’s not a single element to the composition here that isn’t in perfect keeping with what the lyrics are saying. From the trembling nascency of the percussion through the ebb and flow of the piano to the brilliant ascendance of the brass, it’s a breathtaking arrangement so vividly personified that it speaks to you even if you have no idea what the lyrics are saying.
V: Terry Wogan whinged about the ‘false ending’ here, but it’s the apex of the song in so many more ways than one. Aistė’s performance, misinterpreted by virtually everyone who spouts an opinion about it, is absolutely in keeping with it. Fantastic vocals. I love her smile at the end. She has such wonderful features for a song like this, like a little robin has been chiselled out of her cheek bones.

02 Belgium
B: Was this performed in Dutch at Eurosong? I never realised it had such an anti-racist message. The Dutch lyrics are much more interesting than the English ones. Can’t believe it took four people to write them though.
A: (Or the music.) This has an almost Irish quality to it, albeit with windmills on the horizon. It pales in comparison with the vibrant Lithuanian entry, but is nicely put together, and the occasional burst of strings is refreshing in what is otherwise a fairly staid piece of music.
V: The choreography is understated and effective, and yet the whole thing is very static. It isn’t helped by the direction, which Sweden would revolutionise the following year: there’s hardly a camera pan or rapid change of shot to be had here. The backing vocals are good, but Vanessa’s voice has never impressed me as much as her eyebrows have.

03 Spain
B: No quiero escuchar is one of those titles that lends itself to a song coming last. “¿A quién tratas de engañar?” indeed.
A: Musically less inspired with each step we take this year, but then where do you go after Strazdas? I’ll admit I have a soft spot for this, despite there being nothing much to recommend it beyond its solid if unimaginative middle-aged radio sound, and the nice vocals from Lydia.
V: I love the way the backing singers try to liven things up with their mum-and-dad-do-you-have-to footwork. They all look wrong though, not just Lydia in her “barber shop’s pole” as Terry Wogan called it. (Having said that, it really is a terrible dress.)

04 Croatia
B: “Your love is stretching me” makes an interesting opening line. Fantastic rhyme and rhythm in “Ova žena zna, da ti pripada... sva”. Who knew there was an English version of this penned by someone calling himself Adonis Ćulibrk Boytronic!
A: This is bombastic in a way that Croatia has never managed [and perhaps even bothered to try] to match. It’s not particularly more interesting as a composition than Belgium, say, but it’s arresting, so it gets away with it...
V: ...in spite of the awful sound mix (on just about everything this year). Doris and her resistance-is-futile voice complete the picture. I love the way she employs her hair more effectively as a prop than the cape thing she’s wearing.

05 United Kingdom
B: I like “the way you’re fillin’ me with happiness”.
A: Many people would be tempted to lump this in with the likes of Don’t Play That Song Again and No Dream Impossible as examples of the UK not trying very hard at Eurovision, but to my mind it’s very solid pop. In the vein of a lot of Dutch entries, it has a very clear and focussed structure which fits the three minutes perfectly, without labouring the point, and with rather a neat hook or two. In studio at least it sounds great.
V: Precious are a kind of precursor to the likes of the Pussycat Dolls, with Louise Rose here basically singing the song with four backing vocalists (one of whom would go on to be a third of Atomic Kitten) and taking the Nicole Scherzinger role. At least a couple of them look like they’re wearing their pyjamas. The backing vocals are in fact rough as guts, although it comes together pretty well by the end, and Louise looks and sounds great. Good choreography.

06 Slovenia
B: Very romantic lyrics, with a satisfying hint of smut about them.
A: To me this is a bit of a dirge, with far too much synthesiser. The way it just stops when the last note should go on forever is annoying, and Darja’s voice verges on grating.
V: How come Slovenia could do a woman in a gold dress in a spotlight with an old-fashioned ballad and earn enough to see them through to next year (or at least would have if they hadn’t ‘accidentally forgotten’ to broadcast the show, or whatever the reason was) when Romania couldn’t manage it doing exactly the same thing the year before? I suppose the difference is Ms Švajger looks like she’s enjoying herself and Ms Olinescu looked like a deer caught in headlights. Overall it’s a perfectly acceptable performance of an unaffecting song.

07 Turkey
B: The rhythm (and melodrama) of these lyrics (set to the music) suits the song perfectly, with lines like “kalbimde kanayan yaralar var, hatıralar” flowing beautifully.
A: The rhythm of the chorus combined with the relentlessness of the delivery, especially towards the end, is unbeatable, and I love the fact that the bridge is sung – or at least was in the national final, and is here on the studio version – as one long line. How they managed it without starving their brains of oxygen is anyone’s guess.
V: Even if you were watching it with the sound turned down you’d know this was the Turkish entry from the fact that they spend the first half a minute singing absolutely nothing. This has always seemed plagued by the murky sound to me: it’s like she’s singing inside an aircraft hangar there’s so much reverb, and the backing vocals are too loud. The ‘breathe now’ bits are a cop-out, and there’s not nearly the energy in the performance they’d like us to believe there is either, but at least they’re having fun. Which is why I always find myself drawn into it.

08 Norway
B: “Something is missing, baby.”
A: Considering this comes from roughly the same stable as Say It Again, I find it a bit strange that I can’t find a single thing to say in its favour. The pedestrian production stifles what might once have been a workable tune in the chorus.
V: Terry Wogan summed this up with brutal elegance when he said, “Norway brings Eurovision roaring into the ’90s... with dreadlocks!” Awful, pancake-thin vocals from Stig, although the backing singers are solid gold.

09 Denmark
B: The first half of the first verse sums up Denmark’s approach to Eurovision in the last decade or so perfectly.
A: I love the way this goes up a key in the bridge before stepping back again for the chorus, and then repeats the process, only a key higher to start with, from the second verse. It ties in nicely with what they’re singing. It always feels like a 45 being played at 33, but soon takes on that quality of feeling right.
V: Trine’s fluttery lashes betray her nerves, but fair dos, it was only her second time on a big stage. Michael overeggs the pudding a bit, making eyes at the camera the way he does. His and Trine’s vocals blend nicely, so it’s strange that he then looks a bit peeved once it’s all over. The way the guys on backing vocals talk amongst themselves during the verses is totally Danish if 2001 was anything to go by.

10 France
B: These lyrics could come from any French entry over a period of about 25-30 years.
A: Bit closing-credits-of-romantic-comedy this, if it were sped up ever so slightly. The na-na backing vocals don’t impress me, and Nayah’s voice is shrill and unconvincing in places. Great last note though, in the longer studio version.
V: Nayah’s hair! That neck! The dress! Dear lord Jeebuz. The supporting singers here adopt the same approach (and outfits) as the Spaniards, to equally little effect: milling about does not amount to choreography. Overall: solid, but the way it curtails itself is blessed relief.

11 The Netherlands
B: Clever lyrics in the chorus.
A: “Good song, too; must have a chance,” said Mr Wogan. “The Dutch have high hopes for that.” On listening alone you can see why: this is another very solid Dutch pop production, as neat as it is catchy.
V: There actually feels like there’s a bit of energy on stage for a change here, and Marlayne looks stunning. But was there some decree that everyone (apart from Lydia) had to wear white, silver or black in 1999?

12 Poland
B: I love the lines “Prowadź mnie gdy światło drży i gdy pada cień” and “Jeśli łza jest jeszcze łzą, nie jestem sam”, and the way the lyrics just keep on spilling out until the huge, pleading finale.
A: Yet more class from the Poles. Not quite up there with their ’94-’97 efforts, but gloriously tortured all the same, and so beautiful for it. I listen to it in rapture every time it plays: it’s all about the vocals.
V: Mietek’s camp little wiggle of his head at the end is adorable.

13 Iceland
B: This has much more in common with the likes of Making Your Mind Up and other such ‘typical’ Eurovision fare than anyone tends to admit.
A: There’s no claiming it’s a musical masterpiece, but you’d have to be deaf, blind and super-dumb to say it doesn’t work a treat.
V: Selma provides amazing vocals for such a demanding routine. The way she completely ignores every camera bar Camera 1 gets my thumbs up. If only Charlotte had sprained her neck or something, we could all have been revelling in ESC00 in Reykjavik. You have to wonder whether this will end up being as close as Iceland ever gets to nabbing the title, despite the quality of a lot of the stuff they churn out.

14 Cyprus
B: Nice lyrics, on the whole. I love the simple belief implicit in “Fonakse t’ onoma tou, ke tha ’ne erotas”.
A: This is hardly the most accomplished thing floating around, and certainly not deserving of victory when virtually all of its components were produced at the press of a button. Not that I’m programmerophobic, of course: it just sounds a bit cheap.
V: Live, however, it’s surprisingly solid. The whole thing is a game of two halves that more or less works, but you can understand why no one went for it. The fact Marlain was studying musical theatre is obvious. “Gee, that was grand,” said Mr Wogan. They must have been gutted it did so badly. The curse of the fan favourite! (But then what did fans ever know? Even after the beating this took they were convinced Corinna May was going to storm to victory in Tallinn.)

15 Sweden
B: Great lyrics in Swedish: I love the closing lines of the chorus – “Sagan om vår kärlek kan bli verklig, kan bli sann / Om du älskar mig i tusen och en natt” – and the fact they sang the last bit in the language for the reprise. The English version is really well attuned, too.
A: The entry that led to everyone claiming, erroneously, that Sweden had been doing ABBA every year since 1974. Mind you, the references are there for all to see.
V: Amazing backing vocals, as ever; amazing vocals all round. Taut as taut. It mightn’t have been a runaway win, but in hindsight at least its victory was obvious.

16 Portugal
B: There are some nice touches to these lyrics – the rhyming and alliterative wonder of “Dá-me a tua mão, não mintas mais / Olha que os teus olhos são cristais”, for example.
A: But when they’re not singing about swaying fields of corn and pine trees, it all gets very bland very quickly with Portuguese entries. The structure here is solid enough that it should sell itself to you better than it does, if you can overlook the ‘come on, sing along’ quality, and yet after Take Me to Your Heaven – which is itself super-retro – it sounds like it comes from another century. The last 30 seconds or so after the key change are good.
V: Just as Poland was trampled under foot by Iceland and its choreography, so too was Portugal destined to languish in the shadow of Sweden. Wella or whoever would kill to have any of those Portuguese men in their commercials advertising body, bounce and hair so healthy it shines.

17 Ireland
B: Next!
A: Musically and lyrically, Ireland continues to tread water at Eurovision. It’s all perfectly lovely, but utterly boring, and seems to think it has a quality which it simply doesn’t (although the vocals are flawless).
V: The Mullans are another lot who launch into their choreography from the second bar rather than the first. Makes it easier, I suppose. I love their rehearsed Hebrew greetings at the end. Bronagh is the personification of statuesque, and has the best silver dress of the evening.

18 Austria
B: “When I’m bad, you know that I’m better” is a great line. It probably would have sounded rubbish if they’d had to do the whole thing in German.
A: One of the best Austrian entries in years, and up there with the UK and the Netherlands in 1999 in terms of solid pop. There are layers of arrangement here among which Ms Singer’s vocals rather commandingly tiptoe.
V: And she’s super cute to boot. As a ’60s pastiche this would have been better being two minutes long rather than three, but they make up for it with some positively epilepsy-inducing camera work by the rest of the evening’s standards. I’m very grateful for the splash of red.

19 Israel
B: “Happy birthday to you, chalomot yitgashmu” is a great opening line to the chorus.
A: There’s something unadulterated about this that sees me grinning like an idiot every time it comes on. I can see why it was considered a real contender, given how clear and simple its message is. The whole thing is uplifting in a way that’s only rivalled by All Out of Luck. The bassline draws me in instantly, as does the blend of voices, with the Butlers’ smooth vocals working a treat.
V: The dance routine goes a bit awry towards the end, but by then it’s academic. Occasionally bordering on something you feel you ought to be embarrassed to like, in the end it does enough right in its three minutes to make you realise you don’t have to apologise for singing along to it every time you hear it.

20 Malta
B: “I’m here to try.” Bless.
A: Malta at its most appalling: the original version is so utterly lame that not even a succession of remixes can make anything of it come curtain up. The way Whateverhernameis hits a bum note on said line – in the studio version – says it all.
V: Strange, awkward choreography, but I like their matching shoes. It’s interesting how one of the other two making up the rest of Times Three makes a big O with her mouth to produce the same sound as the other one, who purses her lips to do it.

21 Germany
B: Aspects of these lyrics are clever (such as the title), and the German/Turkish/English blend works a whole lot better than it should, but “Frieden ist mehr als nur ein Spiel bei dem nur einer gewinnt” and “Barış olsun diye yürüyelim el ele” have Ralph Siegel and Bernd Meinunger written all over them whichever language they’re in.
A: Great strings accompanying the more traditional elements here. There’s a strong sense of how a melody should be put together, as you might expect from this pair of composers, without the Eastern influences being squeezed out of the picture. The bridge in particular has that typically Turkish sense of drama to it. Given all this, it’s kind of amazing they were originally beaten to the line by Corinna May.
V: A.k.a. the other Turkish entry. (See what I mean about them basically doing nothing for the first 30 seconds?) Eclectic line-up. Compared to the rest of the group, the skinny one in white is a bit of a flake.

22 Bosnia and Herzegovina
B: *Ditto what I said about Lithuania when it comes to names like Dervišhalidović. In spite of the lesson in French declination that Dino and Beatrice give us in the chorus, these lyrics have something very deep and almost mystical about them.
A: The strings race all takes place in the home straight, as do the unlikely language combos that work perfectly, and the lucky disqualifications, given that Hari and his old man of the sea were sent packing as well. This is a stunning composition where, as with Lithuania again, virtually everything has something to say in support of the lyrics. The way it adds layer upon layer is fantastic.
V: Even Dino’s potato sack of a pullover looks good on that stage; indeed, everyone looks fabulous. It’s about as colourful and animated as Bosnia had ever been at Eurovision to this point, without sacrificing good taste or depth. Tremendous vocals.

23 Estonia
B: Lovely if slightly skewed lyrics, which actually sound much better and paint a more complete picture in English than they do in Estonian.
A: Everything I said about Lithuania and Bosnia re: the music being entirely in tune with the words is true here, too. Effortlessly grand and celestial, underscored by the almost ethereal vocals, this is arguably the jewel in Priit Pajusaar and Glen Pilvre’s Eurovision crown.
V: This isn’t quite the vocal powerhouse I remember it being, but it loses none of its charm. Evelin is the proverbial button. They definitely saved the best stage settings till last in Jerusalem.


And so to the points…

1 point goes to Germany

2 points go to the Netherlands

3 points go to Austria

4 points go to Israel

5 points go to Sweden

6 points go to Iceland

7 points go to Poland

8 points go to Estonia

10 points go to Bosnia and Herzegovina

and finally...

12 points go to...


Lithuania!


Matching wooden spoons are awarded (with jars and jars of relish) to Norway and Malta.

1998

A year with so much to offer that virtually my entire top 20 deserves to be in the top 10, and where in any other year almost all of the top 10 would probably have taken the 12.

01 Croatia
B: Wonderful example of Balkan brevity yet again in the lyrics.
A: Strings, piano, guitar: I need say no more. This surely ranks as Croatia’s best ever entry, whether or not they stole it. Danijela seems much more in her element here than banging on about nostalgia, lending this rather tortured ballad both the power and variation in tone it needs to really take off.
V: Goofy-looking backing singers as usual, like they picked five downtrodden teachers out of some Zagreb state school and told them to stand behind the microphones. Brilliant vocals, having said that, all round. The derobing trick is effective but at odds with what the lyrics are saying. Needless to say the audience laps it up.

02 Greece
B: These lyrics strive for poetic and deep, and I rather like “Matea, ki apopse stous parathisous / Tis fandasias mou me t’ oniro tha planitho”.
A: For the first minute or so this always has me urging it on to greater things. They never come. Actually dissecting it now as I listen to it, it’s startling how bland it is.
V: I’m glad the acoustic guitar is given a more prominent place in the mix here. Ms Thalassa is a mistake from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. If Tori Spelling was blonde and sang in Greek she’d be something like this, although probably better. The vocals are strained, flat and whiny all at the same time.

03 France
B: World music again from France, and this has African roots dangling from it left, right and centre. I love the fact that one of the composer’s names is almost ‘moist and crispy’.
A: I’ve always liked Marie Line’s voice: it’s like grated chocolate. The guitar strumming away between lines in the verses is just one of many things to like about the arrangement. It does go on a bit though.
V: Gorgeous! I love the way her vocals occasionally sound like they’ve missed the mark, but they’re meant to be that way. The performance manages to be both static and rhythmic at the same time.

04 Spain
B: Lacklustre lyrics. When he says “Y en un moment / Te olvidaste de vivir” is it an odd euphemism for ‘you died’?
A: For me the lyrics here just don’t go with the music or the delivery: this should be a huge amazing thing full of pain and torment, but none of that comes through, however much they think an electric guitar riff will underline the point. Mikel Herzog’s voice would be rather like Serafin Zubiri’s if it wasn’t so thin and reedy.
V: See what I mean about what Spanish men wore at Eurovision in the ’90s? Lots of eyebrow and floppy hair action here in what is at best a workmanlike performance. I love his “Phew! Glad that’s over!” moment at the end.

05 Switzerland
B: I hadn’t noticed before that Egon Egemann of SWI90 infamy had a hand in this, nor that Gunvor’s surname was Guggisberg. They should have formed a duet: ‘Gunvor Guggisberg & Egon Egemann’ has much more of a ring to it. “Es tut so weh” is probably something they were muttering to themselves come the voting.
A: There are more layers and atmosphere to this within the first 30 seconds than there is in the whole of ¿Qué voy a hacer sin ti?, but it’s arguably laid on a little thick, especially with Gunvor’s breathy vocals and the backing vocalists hammering everything home the way they do. I do quite like it though.
V: Fancy Switzerland providing us with our first thing closest to a dance routine of the contest. The only thing worthy of zero points here is that white violin that Egon’s still wielding.

06 Slovakia
B: “Čakám ťa, poď, spolu zažeňme smútok” – yay for diacritics! Ms Hasprová delivers a pretty mouthful of lyrics here.
A: Wonderfully rich arrangement, albeit one that seems to be going through a bit of an identity crisis at times. I can’t really fault it, nor Katarina, but added together – and with the elephant in the room that is the clunky sound of Slovak – they produce something that should be extremely attractive but sadly isn’t.
V: Despite clearly having a voice that wants to fill the hall, Ms Hasprová seems to rein herself in at times. The last note alone encapsulates for me the problems with the sound of the song: it’s just not pretty.

07 Poland
B: What is this actually about? Very odd lyrics when you look at them. From the music you’d assume it’s something frothy, but then it basically seems to be saying “you’ve got aggression problems and our relationship is pretty shit, but this is as good as it gets”. Maybe that was Poland in the late ’90s for you. Interesting that the Polish word for ‘embrace’ (“obejmij mnie”) comes from the same root as the Russian word for ‘kill’.
A: This was something of a pre-contest fan favourite, wasn’t it? I can understand why it would have been, because it’s the lightest and most contemporary-sounding thing so far, and Renata Dąbkowska’s vocals are very engaging. But it all starts to unravel for me, with surprising speed, when the kiddy-sounding mamy-to vocals kick in. If they’d done away with them, this would just about be perfect.
V: It takes ages to do anything at all, and Renata looks (and to a lesser extent sounds) very uncomfortable. The drumsticks appear to have more personality at first. Shame.

08 Israel
B: That opening line couldn’t be more appropriate.
A: Undeniably appealing when it has very little right to be. The music is fine, for what it is, and has some nice touches to it, but it’s all about Ms International – who can’t sing to save herself. The last chorus is rousing though, and at least it’s all upbeat (not that it could be otherwise).
V: The middle eight’s probably the best bit of the song, but vocally it’s the weakest part of the performance. Diva is an obvious crowd-pleaser, especially playing to this audience, but it really is utter trash. The waists on Charlie’s Angels are almost insensitively narrow: I’ve always assumed the curvier one was shoved to the side on her own because she took up as much space as the other three pencil-thin backing vocalists put together.

09 Germany
B: Stefan Raab redeemed himself with Can’t Wait Until Tonight, but of his novelty entries this is by far the more successful, perhaps because it’s simply OTT where Wadde hadde dudde da? was OTT *and* camp. The [almost ironic] innocence and simplicity of the fact that “meinen Liebesbeweis” is “Nussecken und Himbeereis” is sweet.
A: Loads of personality. Given what it’s showcasing, I’m constantly surprised it’s not layered on even more thickly. The arrangement is very effective.
V: Brilliant! And it’s solely thanks to Italy withdrawing again that it even made it to Birmingham. I love the Katie Boyle moment.
 
10 Malta
B: Typically sodden, sappy Maltese lyrics from Sunny Aquilina (whose name sounds like a cut-price Romanian hatchback), but somehow they work.
A: This composition ticks all the boxes, and I love its echoey quality. You can’t go far wrong with someone of Ms Siracusa’s stature belting out a big ballad, really.
V: She might look like she’s just popped in from her temping job, but it all comes down to the voice – and while Chiara’s may not the best one you’ll ever hear, it certainly wins you over.

11 Hungary
B: Poor dear sad old Charlie looks like he’s not far off joining his missus in pushing up the daisies. Wonderfully sad lyrics. Hungarian is such a fascinating language when you consider that single words like meggyógyulsz express entire concepts like “you’ll get better again” and do so in such an unfathomable way.
A: There’s something highly authentic but nevertheless unappealing about the music here for me, and the way Charlie delivers the lyrics verges on overkill at times. It’s the first song so far which is crying out to be at least a minute longer.
V: Is he knock-kneed or did he forget to go to the loo before coming on stage? To me the backing vocalists both add to and detract from the song.

12 Slovenia
B: This makes an unintentionally perfect counterpoint to A holnap már nem lesz szomorú, without reaching quite the same heights of pathos.
A: Vili Resnik sells this more than the music does, which is slightly odd, since the music is very impressive and he comes across as being croaky for the sake of it at times.
V: But the croakiness is what does it for me here. Alarmingly, the backing vocalist who isn’t Karmen Stavec looks like she’d disappear if she turned sideways.

13 Ireland
B: Prophetic title considering their results post-Mysterious Woman. The lyrics are a bit meh, but I do like the couplet of “To think that love should last / Was mistaken on my part / But you promised me the earth / And you only broke my heart”.
A: I love Dawn’s voice, which adds an oomph to this that may well have been lacking had someone else sung it. But you’ve always got to worry about a song that skips to the bridge before they’ve even managed a second verse. (A casualty of the three-minute rule, I know.) Despite there being nothing very exciting about the song, I do like it.
V: However, it paves the way for the decade of nothingness to follow. Awful lighting: who ever thought turquoise and magenta would go together?

14 Portugal
B: A song title with a subjunctive! Everything about this is so Portuguese that I can’t help but love it. Inês Santos could elide for her country.
A: Has there ever been a better example of this kind of song at Eurovision? I think not.
V: I used to have a banjo like that! Well, except that it was a ukulele.

15 Romania
B: These lyrics are rather beautiful, especially “Nu ştiu să privesc / Către stele, şi-acolo să te regăsesc”. There were lots of people losing people in 1998, which is made all the sadder by knowing how things ended for poor Mălina :(
A: There’s something delightfully understated about virtually everything to do with this song – even the electric guitar. It all cranks up a gear after the second chorus in a way that sees me punching the sky (in my head at least) every time. It’s no more special than the Irish entry in its way, but it’s more rousing.
V: I believe her when she sings it, even if it is a little uninvolving. I love her little tilts of the head after the first chorus.

16 United Kingdom
B: Why tie someone to locked chains? Seems a bit daft. And “Every day is a question mark” is hardly inspired, but it still makes a great line.
A: What a vast improvement this remix was over the somewhat insipid ballad it started out life as. I have to agree with those who say the song’s journey is not an extensive one, nor one which seems to have much direction, but that suits the lyrics perfectly. Regardless of its shortcomings, I think it’s one of the UK’s best entries: it’s simply a great pop song.
V: And contemporary! Yet again it’s the UK who produces something actually of its time. Great vocals from everyone, and the strings sound outrageously good live, giving the song so much more substance.

17 Cyprus
B: “Parakseni ki’ alokoti i agapi” as an opening line makes you wonder what kind of discourse sparkly-eyed twink Michael is about to launch into.
A: Astounding, captivating vocals from someone so young, but then so much about this song is surprising. The arrangement in studio is horribly scarred by the synthesised brass and the half-a-beat-too-late clapping, but that doesn’t change the fact that this is up there on the top shelf of Cypriot contributions to Eurovision.
V: The odd timing of the studio version is largely eschewed here, or at least not as obvious. Michael’s performance showcases both his vocal power and his slight awkwardness on stage. The audience love him though, as well they should.

18 The Netherlands
B: “Nederland was koel en kil / En dan vooral het weer” – a little bit of self-deprecation that goes a long way with me! Dutch isn’t a particularly pretty language, even when you read it, but it’s transformed in the hands of someone like Edsilia.
A: Although this is a song which the studio version tells you straight away was made to be performed live, it still represents the apotheosis of three-minute Dutch pop. The instant it goes up a key, it’s pure genius. Edsilia has one of the warmest, most gorgeous and most inviting voices I’ve ever heard.
V: Absolutely brilliant. Not even the little croak towards the end puts a dent in how good this is.

19 Sweden
B: “This song was inspired by the death of Diana, Princess of Wales.” Who knew! I’ve always liked the lyrics. There’s some wonderful alliteration in lines like “Som en sol som värmer oss, som en himmels stjärnebloss”.
A: Lots of people seem to be indifferent to this, and I don’t know why: the arrangement is lush, and Jill Johnson’s vocals complement it perfectly. There aren’t a whole lot of ballads at Eurovision that have outdone it in my book, before or since.
V: Just lovely. It all seems so effortless.

20 Belgium
B: Things get a bit too preachy in the middle eight here for my liking, but this is unquestionably one of the strongest Wallonian entries.
A: This is not as far removed from the likes of J’aime la vie as it may seem, especially with a voice like that behind it, but it’s nonetheless charming, with yet another great arrangement. Elements of it sound very Behaviour-era Pet Shop Boys.
V: Just like Chiara before her, Mélanie looks like she’s on her way to do a bit of temping in that outfit. Her voice sounds softer and somehow rounder live than in studio, and it does both her and the song a world of good. Great, simple camera direction.

21 Finland
B: Minimalist and ever so slightly kooky.
A: I could never see Estonia entering anything like this, ever. It really is unique.
V: Not that dissimilar to Se eu te pudesse abraçar in what it says about the country it’s from. Beautiful. I’ve always thought Marika was stunning, and it’s nice to see Finland being absolutely Finnish with a cosmopolitan line-up.

22 Norway
B: Norway clearly knew something the rest of Europe didn’t, with a handful of songs in English already in their national final. Ironically, the Norwegian version is better. Great rhythm.
A: When Norway gets it right, they get it very right. I’d always loved 1998 but never thought it had produced so many entries for so many countries which really were up there with the very best of them.
V: Was Dino Merlin inspired by the knitted top Lars is sporting here, do you think? Perfect Scandinavian backing vocals.

23 Estonia
B: Lyrics full of poetry and whimsy by Estonian standards.
A: This is another lovely composition that fills your head, but what I’ve always loved most about thies song is the harmonies. And the middle bit, which is just so appropriate.
V: He’s wracked by more nerves than I remember him being. The white jacket was a mistake, but then he was from a fashion black hole that had not long emerged from behind the Iron Curtain, so we’ll let it pass.

24 Turkey
B: The ideas here are impenetrable in places, but the overall melodrama makes the point. Erdinç and Canan Tunç certainly have a thing for the OTT.
A: This is quite like their 2001 entry, but even more overblown: grand on a soundtrack scale. I love it.
V: The Neanderthals may have died out, but their genes clearly live on, high on the plateaus of Anatolia. I’d happily replicate Tüzmen’s DNA. I wonder how he get his eyebrows to do that.

25 FYR Macedonia
B: The symmetry between this and Croatia as the opening and closing numbers is perfect. There’s a much bleaker and more tangible reality on display here, though.
A: The Balkan uncle Chris Isaak never met! There’s never been quite enough going on in this one way or another to truly engage me: the chorus just doesn’t live up to the promise of the verses, plus the song just kind of stops. However, I love Vlado’s delivery of it, and it hints at the quality that FYRoM would fairly consistently give us hereafter.
V: I don’t know what decade they resurrected Mr Janevski from, but it wants its suit back. And they definitely like their middle-aged housewives as backing vocalists in the Balkans, don’t they.


And so to the points...

1 point goes to Germany

2 points go to Estonia

3 points go to Norway

4 points go to Croatia

5 points go to Portugal

6 points go to Sweden

7 points go to Cyprus

8 points go to the United Kingdom

10 points go to Finland

and finally...

12 points go to...


The Netherlands!


The wooden spoon goes to Greece.

1997

A year in which even the chaff would make a more than decent loaf.

01 Cyprus
B: This is one of my favourites from Cyprus, with some wonderfully poetic lyrics (e.g. the entire second verse). But there’s something very not-Anglo about motherland songs, isn’t there. Where are the British entries singing the praises of Old Blighty?
A: There are some neat touches to the arrangement in this engaging, upbeat piece of music which highlight the dramatic moments. The only real letdown is the abrupt ending.

V: Competent if occasionally cheesy-in-a-good-way performance. Great opening number, which the audience clearly appreciates.

02 Turkey
B: The way the lyrics in the verses (well, verse) stretch out to the music is perfect for what they’re saying, particularly in the opening lines.
A: This is armed to the teeth with everything that makes Turkish entries at Eurovision so appealing when they’re this well produced. Wonderful arrangement. My only criticism of the song might be that its ‘chorus’ is a little pedestrian compared to the rest.
V: That and that the studio version is lyrically not as flowing or interesting to the ear as the live one. Şebnem’s lungs struggle to be contained within her diminutive frame. She looks a bit like a pixie imitating Sigourney Weaver. I’m already struggling with the rankings.

03 Norway
B: There are so many things about this that should make it so wrong, and yet I always find myself singing along, especially to the line “ingen gevær, no war, no disco”, which I feel would have made a more interesting title than San Francisco. The amount of English permitted (as with Austria) is astounding. No wonder they realised they’d have to change the rules.
A: Fantastic acoustic track. It’s just a pity that, as a genre, the whole thing is very easy to take against.
V: Tor Endresen sent shivers down my spine with his vocals on Can You Hear Me at Melodi Grand Prix back in whenever it was, and while this is a different kettle of North Sea fish entirely, the performance is still top-notch.

04 Austria
B: This has some very clever lyrics – “Die Nacht wirft einen Schatten und der ist von mir / Dein Kissen unberührt und ich noch immer hier” making a great opening line, and my personal favourite: “Liebe ist kein ungedeckter Scheck!”
A: They pack a lot into their three minutes here, musically. You don’t often hear songs that sound this ‘full’ in the contest, having said and done much more in their allotted time than you would’ve expected them to be able to.
V: One of the earliest examples in my memory of a song being set to a truly slick routine, and to great effect IMHO. Perhaps in response to the introduction of the televote? I’ve always thought it was overlooked; it’s a treat to watch. Bettina Soriat, while completely solid, is perhaps in fact the weak link, and only then if you find her voice grating.

05 Ireland
B: I’ve never felt that this had much to offer lyrically – I want to give him a wake-up slap when he claims he “got a feeling in his heart he didn’t understand”.
A: Quintessentially Irish, but while the arrangement is nice enough, it fails to set the world alight for me. They’d still be getting away with it years later.
V: Yet another wonderful performance, and Marc Roberts is very easy on the eye. I can’t help but feel though that this was rewarded for simply being as bog-standard as it could possibly be. It coming 2nd when Dreaming only managed 14th a couple of years earlier still baffles me.

06 Slovenia
B: I adore the ebb and flow and surprising softness of the lines “Tam za prazno mizo čaka vsako noč / Njena čista duša kliče na pomoč”.
A: This is almost like incidental music, and verges at times on the medieval. Mind you, the percussion and synths carbon-date it just as effectively.
V: What a complete package this is, Tanja Ribič looking for all the world like she’s stepped out of the pages of the very fairytale she’s recounting. The arrangement’s wonderful, working in complete harmony with the lyrics. Pure class that makes me want to run away to the fantasy wonderland of Slovenia at once and, as Platin would later implore, stay forever.

07 Switzerland
B: As with most Italian[-language] entries, the lyrics here have an enormous amount to offer – including a lesson for Switzerland in the line “Anche gli errori hanno il loro valore”!
A: Bit of an oddity, this: it comes across as a work in progress rather than the finished article, like there’s something missing the whole time. Which I suppose is appropriate. Fab outro.
V: You’d be hard-pressed to find fault with the performance.

08 The Netherlands
B: Dull message.
A: The music’s cleverly attuned to the lyrics but is, at times, a bit too much.
V: Following in the footsteps of One More Time, Mrs Einstein are like a mid-’90s Dutch prototype for Desperate Housewives, only with a more obvious social conscience. Great outfits, and their voices melt into this sumptuous whole. You can’t help but love their little routine.

09 Italy
B: “Mi aspetto mille scuse come sempre da te / Sei un fiume di parole dove anneghi anche me” make brilliant opening lines.
A: Clever arrangement. I prefer the edited version of this to the studio one, as it conveys the message more succinctly, which seems right under the circumstances (despite the title).
V: Alessandra is stunning, combining exquisite Italian looks with an incredible voice and a presence that fills the screen and demands your attention. For Italy to give us this and then do a disappearing act was criminal.

10 Spain
B: “Se apaga la llama, se apaga el amor / Pero el corazón siempre sentirá...” Sigh <3
A: My ex once remarked that this was one of the most boring Eurovision songs he’d ever heard, but I find it altogether wonderful. Not as inspired perhaps as some of its stablemates, but it comes across as so utterly heartfelt.
V: Aah, Marcos Llunas! What a dreamboat. Not sure about his lapels, but he has one of those voices that brings me out in goosebumps every time. No hard feelings indeed.

11 Germany
B: Scrabble alert @ ‘zurückzudrehen’.
A: The harp’s great, and the arrangement generally is very good; for their failings, Siegel and Meinunger know what they’re doing. Nice ending, too.
V: Poodle-pated Bianca’s a bit of a fashion faux pas, but she puts in another convincing performance of a song that might otherwise have threatened to fall a bit flat.

12 Poland
B: Sheer poetry. “Jestem piasku ziarenkiem w klepsydrze / Zabłąkaną łódeczką wśród raf etc etc” – the entire chorus is magic.
A: Outstanding music. You could cut the air with a knife there’s so much atmosphere.
V: All this and a powerhouse performance from Ms Jopek. Still Poland’s classiest entry, and quite possibly the best song Eurovision has ever produced. It only gets better, doesn’t it? What a year.

13 Estonia
B: There’s a sort of swirling weightlessness to these lyrics that envelops you like the fog they namecheck. Just not as wet or oppressive.
A: This is one of the most accomplished pieces of music Estonia has sent to the contest. The ‘improved’ ending – it was never there in the original – is the icing on the cake. Stunning.
V: Proof, if any were needed, that Maarja has [long had] one of the purist, strongest and most beautiful voices Estonia has heard. She plays a blinder here, and has only gotten better since.

14 Bosnia and Herzegovina
B: It’s funny how the lines “Potraži me u uglu svoga sjećanja / Pronađi me u zori novog svitanja” manage to reflect the beauty of what they’re saying while superficially looking so ugly.
A: Absurdly cheery for a that’s-that-then kind of song, but why not, I say.
V: Uniformly awful outfits and hairdos, but this is Bosnia at its synthesised best, if the superlative applies here. Great performance. Love the second bridge.

15 Portugal
B: I love the idea of “Juras ao luar, e a canção do mar”.
A: Lacks immediacy, this, it has to be said. Lush though.
V: Those oddly attired backing vocalists couldn’t coordinate their clicking if their lives depended on it. Add to this Ms Lawson’s butcher’s apron of an outfit and the slightly thin sound to the music and you begin to understand why it was overlooked so completely. And yet it’s a lovely song, performed – at least vocally – with conviction.

16 Sweden
B: The bridge here contains my favourite line: “Ingenting är värt nåt om inte vi finner varandra”.
A: We’re into a run of songs which are all competent in their own way but lack some of the oomph of preceding entries. This displays the Swedes’ knack of knowing how to structure a decent three-minute pop song...
V: ...and the lads clearly have a good time with it. I think it’s great they were self-deprecating enough to call themselves Blond.

17 Greece
B: There are some wonderful lyrics here: the entire chorus being an example, especially the easy rhythm of “Mes’ ap’ to soma sou, n’ anastitho”.
A: Another delightful and layered arrangement. You can hear every twang and jiggle.
V: This screams ‘Greek’ in the same way Dinle screamed ‘Turkey’, right down to the little finger cymblettes. Marianna has a sensuality about her that perfectly suits the song (and the line quoted above). Its chances were always going to be pretty much zip though.

18 Malta
B: I like the idea of clouds caressing your face with someone’s tears.
A: What we have here is yet another lovely composition, although there’s something about it that makes it not work the way it should; not sure what. The Little Drummer Boy interlude perhaps. The awkwardness of the chorus is fitting.
V: More dried molluscs being rattled in lieu of a conventional instrument. It works, and they obviously like their seafood extenders in Mediterranean music. It doesn’t help Malta coming straight after Greece, especially not with Debbie Scerri wearing that dress.

19 Hungary
B: The lines “Az éjszaka csendjében, még hallod talán / As álmokon át, úgy vigyáznék rád” are very romantic.
A: As wonderful as most of them are, there’s been very little to this point that’s seemed remotely of its time; Cyprus perhaps comes closest. So it’s nice to see Hungary trying it after its two previous entries, which were so different and provided such contrasting results. This is clearly an attempt at Take That popularism, which I don’t mind at all.
V: Hmmm, it’s a bit repetitive, but it has some great strings and oboe. (Oboe?) The blond one lets the side down.

20 Russia
B: The irony of “I svaim ustalim vzoram, karanovanim slyezoy / Glydish ti v etat zal / I slovna vidish son, no son rastayal” is perfect in hindsight.
A: From what I’ve heard, this remains one of Alla’s best and most iconic numbers, although she’s got a pretty impressive back catalogue. The song seems to have been composed around her voice, and the style of the song chosen for her and her alone. There’s a lot to like about the music.
V: She looks a sight in that outfit, and yet she wears nothing else, to this day. Brilliant performance of what is a delightful story. The audience go bonkers! This and Iceland make an unlikely couple.

21 Denmark
B: Danish is a truly bizarre language when you look at it, one that can turn lines like “Jeg trykked’ en, en, otte, ønskede, håbede” into something altogether different and more pleasant-sounding.
A: It’s a sign of the mire Eurovision was in at the time that entries that dared to exhibit anything even approaching contemporary were resolutely ignored by the juries, whatever their virtues. That said, I’m not sure this boasts a whole heap of ’em.
V: This is about as cartoonish as Denmark has ever gotten at Eurovision (besides the Aqua interval in 2001) and is loads of fun, and has an excellent orchestral arrangement.

22 France
B: “Sentiments... / Légère comme un silence / Jeu de larmes pour nuits blanches” – another wonderful set of lyrics from the French entry.
A: They’re accompanied by a complex, arresting arrangement that’s a joy to listen to. If anything, the song’s a little too reserved for its own good, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

V: Fanny is positively adorable.

23 Croatia
B: Obviously I love this because of its rhyming couplet of šlag and drag.
A: I can see why this didn’t set the scoreboard on fire: it’s complete trash. There had to be some balance for Hungary, I suppose. Unabashedly craptastic.
V: It was brave of Croatia to go with something like this, given the sobriety of many of their previous (and indeed subsequent) entries. Still, there’s no accounting for what a voting public or slap-up jury will go for. ENI do a great job if you ask me.

24 United Kingdom
B: As stuttery as this should be, it flows surprisingly well. “Let the love light carry” makes a great hook.
A: There’s something scarily Christian about this.
V: But what can you say? It’s the perfect Eurovision anthem and a very competent piece of music performed exactly as it needed to be. So why have I never liked it much? Sometimes I guess you just have to shrug and give a song its dues.

25 Iceland
B: “En samt iðrast ég aldrei neins, iðrast aldrei...”
A: See: V:.
V: Far and away the gayest thing to hit the Eurovision stage in its [then] 41-year-history. It sounds completely different live to the studio version, almost impossibly richer, and yet all the spectacle of it – rarely more enjoyable or appropriate – conceals what is an accomplished piece of writing, with music and lyrics both conveying so much meaning, helped along by some first-rate direction. Or do I just love it because it’s so queer? Tremendous ending, to both the song and the contest.


And so to the points…

1 point goes to Turkey

2 points go to the United Kingdom

3 points go to Greece

4 points go to Cyprus

5 points go to Slovenia

6 points go to Estonia

7 points go to France

8 points go to Iceland

10 points go to Italy

and finally...

12 points go to…


Poland!*

The wooden spoon is awarded – with reluctance, given the wall-to-wall quality – to Bosnia and Herzegovina.

*Again! That's 44 out of a possible 48 points they've had off me in four years.

1996

A high-quality field in which even the lesser songs and performances make themselves easy to like.

01 Turkey
B: Everything about the line “Yeter bu sonbahar yeter” and what it’s saying is right.
A: This is a triumph of minimalism: rarely are there more than three instruments in use at the same time, including voice. Rich, beautiful piano. I’m not a fan of the accordion, but it’s perfect here.
V: Sounds 100% the same live as it does in studio. I love how all the girls are wearing short skirts in a last ditch attempt to inject some sense of modernity into it. The one on the accordion with her specs on is as cute as a button. Lovely assured vocals from Şebnem.

02 United Kingdom
B: “Like a child, but it’s more than a phase / Could act the angel, but it wouldn’t be true” are rather clever as lyrics to brainless pop go.
A: Quintessential mid-’90s dance music, mostly because Motiv8 remixed everything in existence at the time. Aptly enough, after Turkey, it’s an example of the UK trying once again to drag the contest into the modern era (and having little success). It still sounds remarkably good if you ask me.
V: Huge cheer from the audience at the beginning, and they go bonkers for it at the end. If they’d introduced widespread televoting a few years earlier, I wonder whether it really would have been the runaway winner everyone feels it should have been. It’s massively energetic. The video effects are tacky – as they are throughout the show – and so is the dummy computer. I mean duh, we get it, it’s programmed. Gina’s vocals take a bit of a detour here and there but they clearly know where they’re meant to be going.

03 Spain
B: I love the whole ‘caramel and honey’ thing and the lines “Quise mirar al cielo y ser / Un horizonte de estrellas y mar”.
A: Antonio Carbonell is a bit love-him-or-hate-him, but the music is gorgeous. There’s not a note out of place. Fabulous arrangement.
V: He just does his own thing with no compromise at all, and does it brilliantly. I wouldn’t want to run into those backing vocalists in a dead end on a dark night.

04 Portugal
B: Elision gives lyricists in certain Romance languages carte blanche, doesn’t it. (That’s where the Slavic languages miss out. No wonder Balkan entries are all about five lines long.) As per Spain’s caramel and honey, here I love the honey and salt, which seems more incongruous but at the same time much more Portuguese. I also love that despite the tempo and the sheer volume of words, there’s still the languor of “Vem juntar o teu ao meu sabor” and “Preguiça doce e boa, vai de lá, vai de cá”.
A: Ukele-yay! I used to have one just like it. Fantastic harmonies.
V: Fantastic vocals generally, but especially in the chorus. This sounds so much better live, it had to be said.

05 Cyprus
B: Beautifully written.
A: One stirring piano-led ballad with a string accompaniment, please. I’ll forgive it the electric guitar solo, since the rest of it’s so good. Plus it’s right in my register and I know all the words by heart :-)
V: Fifth great-to-outstanding vocal performance in a row.

06 Malta
B: The lines “No pride can save me, I’m down on my knees / ... / Just keep right on heavin’” amuse for all the wrong reasons.
A: Bargain-basement pop with oddly unnatural English. It must be Malta! You’d have thought they would’ve learned by now, but no, they seem to think it’s a tried and tested formula, despite the fact that their biggest success has been with ballads.
V: Pink, perky Miriam’s got an unusual voice. I’m not sure that’s a good thing here.

07 Croatia
B: Perfect rhythm on the line “I dok hladna kiša pada na grad, tko zna gdje si ti sad”.
A: It goes without saying that it’s fabulous. Even the screaming’s spot on, artistically. The instrumental break could almost be from an Irish entry when you listen to it.
V: Love! It’s as though she’s saying: “Look at me, Gina G! My choreography actually means something!”

08 Austria
B: I’d always assumed this had something to do with God because it’s gospel and I misinterpreted the title, so it was refreshing to discover it’s not. I’d love to hear a gospel number about doing the vacuuming or something equally banal.
A: They pack a huge amount into these three minutes and should be praised for it. It does everything a gospel song should.
V: You’d be hard pressed to outdo those backing vocals. Fantastic. Such a quality performance.

09 Switzerland
B: I like the lines “Qu’il n’y avait qu’à lui sourire / Et lui mentir pour lui appartenir”.
A: Malta and Switzerland make such easy targets, don’t they? This is join-the-dots stuff. The vocals – both up front and in back – are so weak, like no one could really be bothered. Still, I’ve always liked it for some reason. Enough to sing along to, anyway.
V: She looks like Australian comedian Jane Turner [Kath out of Kath and Kim – Ed.] doing a piss-take of some proper singer who takes herself a bit too seriously. Good performance again, but she has the kind of voice that makes it sound like a fluke.

10 Greece
B: I love the caution that’s thrown to the wind in the line “...ola osa mathame, asta na perimenun”.
A: Refreshingly unorthodox timing. I’ve always liked this a lot, too. Once you get over the novelty of the rhythm, there’s not a lot else to it that’s as absorbing, though the overall impression is of a nicely composed piece.
V: We can see Marianna’s belly button. How daring! The choreography is very fey, but the backing vocalists in the tight trousers are a sight for sore eyes.

11 Estonia
B: These lyrics go a long way to showcasing the beauty of Estonian.
A: There’s just something very special about this generally. It builds beautifully and so effectively to that last big chorus, before gently stepping back again. The majority of Estonians still name this as their favourite Estonian entry.
V: Aah, Maarja – voice of an angel. I love the way she ceases all extraneous movement for the high note. Elsewhere, Glen Pilvre (on keyboards) looks like an old man who’s left his teeth in a glass of water on his bedside table. I’d never noticed until watching it again just now that the audience tries to clap along, even during the first verse. Bless! But you can see why it was the favourite to win after the final dress rehearsal.

12 Norway
B: “Elven renner stille hen over sletter, skog og eng / Men på sin vei... gikk den over stryk og stein” is lovely.
A: Speaking of things special, this is just glorious. Music, lyrics and vocals work in absolute harmony. They couldn’t have chosen better for a home (or Norwegian) entry.
V: Perfect, apart from the backing vocalists’ outfits. The final note is beautiful. It’s amusing to see that the well-attired in the plum seats are still of the posh variety that give a sitting rather than a standing ovation.

13 France
B: Thumbs up for “Gleb ho taoulagadoù dre forzh c’hoarzhin / Ha didrouz ho klac’harioù”, both for the sentiment and how weird it looks.
A: This never really stood a chance against Ireland, trying to beat them at their own game – even though it’s by no means their game alone. A worthy attempt all the same, especially from France. But I can’t say I’ve ever taken to it. It just seems to find a line it’s comfortable with and repeat it over and over again, musically and lyrically. The full-length version’s bagpipe ending is wonderfully Highlandesque.
V: Indeed – they should have ditched most of the words and left the instrumental outro in. The blonde singer looks vaguely like whatshername out of Fleetwood Mac, while the guys in the background look like they’re playing car parts. I quite like the way the vocals aren’t 100% in tune with one another, figuratively speaking, and literally on a couple of occasions.

14 Slovenia
B: These lyrics don’t look very pretty, but they turn out alright in the end.
A: There’s something admirably hopeless about this from the outset. Perhaps, again, that’s why I’ve always had a soft spot for it.
V: Awful outfits across the board. Green is not Regina’s best colour (and singing, as it turns out, is not her strongest suit). She looks like she’s gatecrashed a funeral. There’s just nothing imaginative about this performance at all.

15 The Netherlands
B: Love the phrase ‘stapel op jou’!
A: This is a typically well-paced and well-structured three minutes of pop from the Netherlands that covers all the bases. Great harmonies.
V: There’s more life in the first 30 seconds of this than there is in the whole three minutes of Slovenia. Terrific vocals again. Effective choreography which is also completely unobtrusive.

16 Belgium
B: This has some quite good lyrics. I titter at the line “Liefde is een steekspel van geven en nemen” but truly like “Wou je mij verslinden / Zonder je te binden?”.
A: If the Swedes had done this at the time and saved Friends the bother of plagiarising it five years later, it might have turned out OK, in a more identifiably schlager style. The Belgian production just sounds cheap, and given how hard they obviously tried to give it an easy-to-remember melody, it’s strangely off-putting.
V: Hopeless, although that’s no reflection on Ms del Bo.

17 Ireland
B: There’s real poetry in some of these lines.
A: I resented the fact this won, at the time, but can’t recall why; maybe I was bored of Irish victories, or rooting for Gina G. Looking at it now more objectively, it’s arguably Ireland’s best entry, and more than worthy of winning. A product of its time it may be, but it’s timeless, too, and quietly powerful. Eimear Quinn has a divine voice: it’s so pure.
V: She looks fantastic, too. This certainly had everything going for it.

18 Finland
B: Good for practising your Finnish pronunciation, this.
A: Utterly fabulous! And clueless.
V: I love it when she gets her own lyrics wrong.

19 Iceland
B: It strikes me as a bit desperate, this song – the only one in 1996 to flaunt the language rule as brazenly as many would the following year.
A: I’m loving the jazz though, and it has a great middle eight. Well, it’s more towards the end, but you know which bit I mean. Kudos to Iceland for consistently doing their own thing.
V: Good backing vocals, and cute routine.

20 Poland
B: There’s something so raw about lines like “W każdą noc, kiedy pragnę / Znów zakrywasz twarz / Czy naprawdę tak miało być?”.
A: Piano and strings again, but this couldn’t be further apart from Cyprus. It’s perfect. What an amazing run Poland had between 1994 and 1999*. And look what’s happened to them since. Where did it all go wrong?
V: You can read every note on her face. This is one of the most honest performances I’ve ever seen, anywhere, right down to the way she clings to the sleeves of her dress the whole time. Which as remarks go is a bit disingenuous, I know, as it appears to be designed that way, but still. I’m glad we never get to see her smile.

*With a slightly less successful poppy interlude in 1998

21 Bosnia and Herzegovina
B: I admire the alliteration (of sorts) in “Za našu ljubav, samo živim ja”.
A: Within about five seconds of those keyboards and that first “ahhhh” you just know what this is all about. It sounds like it was written in someone’s lounge room to be sung at their sister’s wedding in 1984. Heartfelt vocals save it from musical oblivion.
V: Great vocals aren’t enough to distract me from the fact that an entire poultry farm must have been sacrificed for Amila’s hair extensions.

22 Slovakia
B: “Občas bývam krutý / Ako každý kto má sny, dávno prežité” make a great pair of lines.
A: I’ve always wished they’d introduced a proper beat in the chorus here: it deserves it at some point, but never really gets it. As a result, the song tends to drag, rather interminably in the second verse in fact – which, fittingly enough, contains the lyrics above. The longer (original?) version reveals the oomph it should have had injected into it much earlier.
V: It must have taken Marcel an age to get the face fuzz just right. Barring the picnic-rug jacket, he and his song stir me in the right places. Classy vocals from all concerned.

23 Sweden
B: “Vintern den sänker sin slöja och bäddar in husen” makes a great opening line.
A: Not that you need the lyrics to get the wonderful wintry feel this song has. The vocals are spot on, and the Swedish sounds great, especially simple things like ‘snöflingor’. It’s quite Enyaish, which is presumably why it did so well. That this, Norway and Ireland made up the top three may be testament to their quality, but it also shows very clearly where Eurovision was at during this period.
V: This just sounds magnificent. Nanne and Maria look like they’re out of a mid-’90s Swedish version of Desperate Housewives.


And so to the points…

1 point goes to the Netherlands

2 points go to Cyprus

3 points go to Finland

4 points go to Croatia

5 points go to Portugal

6 points go to Sweden

7 points go to Norway

8 points go to Ireland

10 points go to Estonia

and finally...

12 points go to...


Poland!


The wooden spoon is awarded to Belgium.

1995

Not the stellar year I remember it being, despite some truly great entries.

01 Poland
B: Perhaps more than any other song in the contest, Sama reads like poetry set to music. Poetry inspired by a painting, or perhaps some grainy black-and-white portrait taken by a photographer highlighting the darker aspects of city life. The only slightly disappointing thing about it is that the brevity of the title, though apt, robs us of something more left-field like By pchłą stać się małą.
A: Haunting, complex and arresting. If it were saying anything else it would get my back up for being so pretentious, but the artistry is undeniable.
V: Not the best start, it has to be said, although I love the stance Justyna adopts. It sounds a bit ragged in places.

02 Ireland
B: Ideal choice of words and images to match the rhythm and feel of the music.
A: Had the juries made a conscious decision (or been begged by RTE!) not to vote for Ireland in 1995? I personally feel this is head and shoulders above any of their trio of winners: I fall in love with it from the opening bars every time. It’s a true marriage of music and lyrics, with vocals that are perfectly matched and perfectly pitched.
V: Alas, there’s none of the subtlety of the studio version here either. The strings are severe.

03 Germany
B: I hope the ignominious fate this fetid ode met answered Cheyenne’s question “Ist mein Leben endlos leer?” – but knowing the likes, it will have been water off a duck’s back.
A: German is not a musical language at the best of times, let alone with a voice like that. Strip the song of it (and the sycophantic lyrics) and you actually have a composition and arrangement I admire, even if it’s not very adventurous.
V: Would it be unfair to say that only Germany could vote something like this to victory? Even Christian Belgium would think twice. Talk about rough around the edges. Everything post-key change is a disaster.

04 Bosnia and Herzegovina
B: Tortured love song and social commentary in one. I love the line “Kad životu puno damo on nas pojede”.
A: The first 30 seconds of this are so promising, then it dissolves into your usual Bosnian keyboard production and I struggle to maintain my enthusiasm for it, especially when it drops into the chorus so abruptly. Bits and pieces of the arrangement I like, but not enough for the song as a whole to win me over.
V: Finally a performance where the music doesn’t sound overbearing and intrusive! Nice vocals.

05 Norway
B: Given that the lyrics here were only added so that there would actually be some, they’re very effective.
A: There’s no disguising the beauty of this composition, but I still have misgivings about what is essentially little more than soundtrack music winning Eurovision.
V: What with the fiddler being Irish and the fiddle accounting for more than half of the song, this is basically a fourth consecutive Irish victory. It’s immediate and yet understated, so you can see why the juries went for it.

06 Russia
B: These lyrics are rather clever in their way; I especially like “Spi ugryumiy velikan, spi nyedryemlyushiy vulkan”. If it’s all one big metaphor though, it’s lost on me. Unless it’s for Philip Kirkorov’s ego and the writer was trying to tell him something.
A: Bombastic from the off, if not exactly volcanic. I would have liked the arrangement to exhibit a bit more variety, reflecting the quieter and more imploring moments in the lyrics. Having said that, the production is very professional.
V: Oh lordy, that hair! It’s scary how much Philip looks (and stands) like Alla Pugachova. He gives a strong performance, but the song goes nowhere. Nice touch using both the Cyrillic and Latin alphabets for the name at the beginning.

07 Iceland
B: The only thing reading these lyrics makes me think is ‘all talk and no action’.
A: Another of Iceland’s piano-led pop-rock ballads. There’s certainly nothing wrong with it. The backing vocals are divine.
V: Eurovision in the mid-’90s really was the province of the middle aged, wasn’t it. Bo is dressed like some 19th-century pastor who couldn’t get the other buttons on his Paul Smith jacket to do up. As presented, the song just sounds boring.

08 Austria
B: Uplifting lyrics by Austrian standards, although calling someone “Akrobat ohne Seil” as a term of endearment sounds odd.
A: At long last, a bit of character from Austria which they haven’t slapped on in desperation! German sounds much better set to this kind of music. The bridge makes an ideal lead-in to the chorus, which is one of the catchiest and most feel-good the country has come up with in the contest. It has me bopping along to it every time. The key to the song’s success, however, lies in its authenticity.
V: Oh god, the obsession at the time (well, dating back to the late ’80s) for women saxophonists in revealing outfits. Great vocals from everyone, although Stella’s are a little exposed at times.

09 Spain
B: The story here would be just another bleeding-heart tale of lost love if it weren’t for the casually inserted “ya te he pedido perdón” towards the end turning it on its head and making you realise that Ms Conde’s only got herself to blame. Might explain the screaming mess she’d devolved into by the time of La mirada interior.
A: I’ve never really seen the appeal of this song, mostly because I don’t much like Anabel Conde’s voice. Admittedly, its echoey insistence is effective in terms of what the lyrics are saying, and the structure works well. The underplayed ending is nice as well. But yeah.
V: Very effective orchestral arrangement. I much prefer the delivery of the verses than the chorus (and the other shouty bits), but it grabs you towards the end.

10 Turkey
B: “Haydi gel bir şarkı söyle bana” as the first line of what is ostensibly the chorus sounds like they just took a word from the title of every other Turkish entry and strung them together.
A: Lovely arrangement for the orchestra. It’s a pity that Arzu Ece’s vocals sound like they’re being dragged through the verses backwards with rocks in their pockets, but things take off nicely in the chorus. What’s most surprising about the song is how completely non-Turkish it sounds.
V: Surely that’s a wig? I’m not sure what to make of this mildly more upbeat version.

11 Croatia
B: Am I the only one to find nostalgia cloying? There are ideas here that the Huljićes would return to in Copenhagen in 2001.
A: It would be nice if the silent violin that was playing was actually playing silently. I’m always expecting this to turn into a comedy entry after that opening, and depending on your take on it, I suppose it does. The atmosphere the strings create is on target, but given I’m not fond of the trip-down-memory-lane thing, it does nothing for me. And all too soon the arrangement simply starts treading water. The final note is amazing but not actually pleasant.
V: The outfits are awful, and the eyebrows aren’t much better. Or the fringes. If you can overact with your hands alone, Danijela’s doing it. She sounds good though. The final note is still amazing, but still unpleasant, and in fact rather frightening.

12 France
B: My favourite line in this – “Je l’attends un peu comme le voleur attend son heure” – is precisely that because it adds a certain frisson to proceedings that the rest of it lacks. I keep waiting for the sting in the tail, but I get to the end and realise Ms Santamaria had her tail docked long before she took to the stage.
A: Murky and unimaginative. This fails to convince me on any level.
V: I’d vote for her culottes.

13 Hungary
B: Again I find the Hungarian fascinating, but I’ve little else to say about these lyrics apart from that there’s something about them that reminds me of their 1998 entry. [Checks] And indeed the writer is one and the same: the wonderfully named Attila Horváth.
A: The piano’s lovely, but boy are those vocals unattractive. It takes ages to build up any energy, and by then it’s far too late.
V: Atmospheric opening, helped largely by the direction. The vocals are easier to take when you see the way Csaba delivers them.

14 Belgium
B: There’s a fair bit of power behind these lyrics, getting it halfway to the anthem status it aspires to. I particularly like “Tu t’es pas levé pour rien”, although opening a song with a line like “La voix est libre de tout” leaves it wide open should Mr Etherlinck be anything less than perfect in the vocal department.
A: If the yardstick of the success of your melody is how easy it is to predict from one bar to the next, they’ve done fairly well for themselves here. Shame it’s not even slightly exciting. I’d say it’s at least 10 years out of date. The gospelesque backing vocals and acoustic climax are a boon though.
V: I’m irrationally annoyed by the uniformly terrible fashion happening on stage, and by the locks of hair jiggling on Frédéric’s brow. He’s taking himself far too seriously.

15 United Kingdom
B: This chorus is really simple and effective, and I love the line “Keepin’ me lost for words, yeah, I know how that sounds”.
A: When and why did the UK give up on successful, contemporary chart acts? This encapsulates a lot of what ’90s music was about. I love it. (And there I was saying I wouldn’t give nostalgia a look-in!)
V: Compared to Hungary, the camera direction here is terrible, but the music sounds fantastic. The guys’ vocals are pretty weak in the chorus. The rest of the contest up to this point could be from another decade.

16 Portugal
B: It would be crass not to endorse the message of these lyrics, especially when it’s presented in typically evocative style, with mel and canela and gindungo and açafrão. On paper it’s obvious why it would have won its national final, since it combines the Portuguese staples of patriotic fervour and lush poetry.
A: This just seems to reverberate for the sake of it. Tó Cruz has a great voice for the song, but the song itself never gets started. I can’t abide the ending.
V: Terrific lead vocals, but as much as I try to like it, it really is one of those songs that makes you wonder what they were thinking.

17 Cyprus
B: I don’t know what this means. Perhaps you have to be Greek [Cypriot] to appreciate it? Borderline wanky if you ask me.
A: Sexy voice. There’s timing here to rival anything Macedonia might boast, but without the accessibility. Still, it is powerful.
V: They’re missing a table for that tablecloth at the start there. Alex does a good job of losing any points I might have sent his way with that almost conceitedly OTT delivery.

18 Sweden
B: Pling does an impressive job with these lyrics: there’s lots of assonance and balance. There’s also a repeat of the phrase “stannar jag kvar”, which quite a few Swedish entries seem to feature.
A: Jan Johansen doesn’t have to utter a word and he does it for me: I’ll look at him whether he invites me to or not. There’s something about his voice that sells this to you – an otherwise fairly unremarkable ballad – as though you’ve been waiting to find the like of it all your life and just never realised.
V: The juries clearly went for the more restrained songs and performances on offer in 1995.

19 Denmark
B: There’s a real sense of maturity to these lyrics, elevating it above your ordinary ballad.
A: Denmark’s best ever entry?
V: Utterly wonderful.

20 Slovenia
B: Hyper-romantic. The words alone tell you that it’s from the same stable as For a Thousand Years, with lots of people inside other people and what have you. I’m not sure what it would actually entail, but the idea of someone ‘glimmering in you’ is appealing.
A: Pushes all the buttons it’s meant to, and therefore works, but mostly because it sounds like any number of other such ballads. It’s much more palatable than its stilted sequel, but Ms Švajger’s voice still makes the hair on my neck stick up here and there.
V: Kudos to her though: the vocals are flawless. It’s quite an achievement that they’re not swallowed up by the music.

21 Israel
B: We must be about due an Israeli entry called Kibbutz or Hannukah or something since they’ve exhausted the letters of the alphabet and religious references they can use as song titles. This is Verliebt in Dich to the power of n, with an inevitable dollop of shalom-el-ha’olam. Needless to say it sets my teeth on edge.
A: Acoustic heaven (no pun intended). The arrangement is truly Israeli in its sensibilities. Despite my lack of affinity for it, the whole thing just works.
V: Israel must have a style book when it comes to Eurovision choreography, and it must be one of the shortest books ever published. They clearly live by the tenet that if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. Fabulous backing vocals for once that make it sound like there’s an entire choir on stage with Liora.

22 Malta
B: The “don’t go to strangers” bit makes me wonder whether the song’s being sung for someone with a thing for sex workers. If only a Maltese entry were that interesting! The lyrics are rather good actually, in terms of not being full of the kind of English no one outside of the island nation would ever use. Having said that, “Just make it known that you’re mine” is clunky.
A: There’s a pleasing intensity to the vocals, but any points this may have earned for not sounding like your usual Maltese sack of sugar are immediately deducted for the synthesised mouth organ.
V: A bald pate works surprisingly well for Malta; they should try it more often.

23 Greece
B: Is this song about the Turkey-Cyprus thing? If not, then what? And if so, why now? The lyrics are impressive in their way, but with a sense of taking themselves far too seriously.
A: This sounds like Deep Forest at the beginning (and indeed all the way through). It’s certainly atmospheric. I’m still not sure what it’s trying to say, but I like the way it’s saying it.
V: This sounds gorgeous. Elena just stands behind the microphone and emotes, which is what Alex Panayi should have been doing instead of hamming it up the whole time.


And so to the points...

1 point goes to Spain

2 points go to Sweden

3 points go to Israel

4 points go to Greece

5 points go to Austria

6 points go to Norway

7 points go to Ireland

8 points go to the United Kingdom

10 points go to Poland

and finally...

12 points go to...


Denmark!


The wooden spoon goes to France.