2005

Far more than 10 songs deserve to get points, but that’s inevitable in a field this big.

01 Austria
B: Some great touches to the lyrics here: “El ritmo puro de la música alpina” could be self–deprecating in context, but the music proves otherwise, and the line with the yodelling in it is clever stuff. I love the fact that the writing team behind it is Köhldorfer & Spörk, and that the cute guy’s name is Sebastian Fuchsberger. Give me two of his all-beef patties with some special sauce any day.
A: Did this come anywhere close to winning the award for best composition in 2005? It deserves to have. There are so many fantastic touches it’s hard to pick one that I love more than the others, but the little bit leading into the second verse is brilliant. The whole thing’s just so clever. Austria has rarely done better than this.
V: Lovely relaxed performance, if a little too relaxed in parts – the pace quickly seems to slacken. The stage looks fantastic from the off.

02 Lithuania
B: Blah lyrics.
A: Blah everything, really. This is by no means incompetent, but it is completely dull. The way those opening bars drop into the first verse so brutally, you just know this is Swedish. Unfortunately, it doesn’t feature that other trademark of a disconnected chorus with a fantastic hook, and the overall sense is very much of something shipped off to another country because no one at home would touch it. Humanitarian aid past its use-by date, that kind of thing.

V: The lack of enthusiasm with which the audience greets the Lithuanian entry says it all. Everything about this is Swedish except the one thing that needs to be, and as a result the performance rivals Germany’s in the fake and lacklustre stakes. Laura’s vocals just aren’t there.

03 Portugal
B: I had no idea this came from the same composer as Lusitana paixão. I have no idea either what the lyrics are about – plastic surgery perhaps (“Brand new kind of face, I love you anyway”). I do like the line “Só quem não quer amar / Olha sem ver”.
A: There’s a real build to this, and the production is very atmospheric. I don’t think the vocals really come together until the chorus; the arrangement tends to sound odd in the verses. Luciana’s voice I can take or leave, but Rui Drumond’s has something to it which adds to the song.
V: The power of the music just ebbs away completely in this performance, which is refreshingly (but also overly) busy for Portugal. Not a single element of it works, and it’s scarred by one of the worst sound mixes in the history of the contest, rivalling anything 2004 produced in that particular race to the bottom.

04 Moldova
B: Vibrant and zany. I could start a catalogue of quotes of stuff I love here, but I’ll restrict myself to idolising “pop you up with that beat”, “you are [a] slapping queen” and “by the end of [the] show you will blow yourself to bits”.
A: Another very impressive and multi-layered arrangement, which fits in with the animated feel of the verses. I’m still surprised any country would go for something like this on their debut, but it pointed to the way the contest had changed, and needless to say I’m chuffed they did.
V: It was always going to win people over, wasn’t it, like some completely mad but endearing relative. Frenetic camerawork aside, the final performance is even more together than in the semi.

05 Latvia
B: “I’m so sorry I’m so helpless in this angry world / ... / If only we would start [to] believe in dreams / Believe in who we are.” Oh, fuck off.
A: The fact that Mārtiņš Freimanis was happy to reveal this took him about 10 minutes to write says a lot. Credit where it’s due though, worse songs have been written in more time, and I suppose the point of pop is to be uncomplicated. The vocals are effective with this kind of echoey production, although introducing the percussion halfway through is a little too obvious a step for my liking. The ending is very Annie Lennox in Diva phase.
V: Why do so many Latvian performances almost instantly get my back up? The blonde one looks like a turtle trying to retract its head into its shell, sat on that stool. I wonder if Eurovision’s deaf audience appreciated their signing. They certainly wouldn’t have appreciated their singing. [Come Saturday...] Much better in the final, at least in terms of their vocals.

06 Monaco
B: As usual, the French lyrics are a thing of beauty without really saying much. I’m not sure what “Et si les dieux sont contre nous / Alors je serais marabout” means, but I like it.
A: I’m thinking 40, possibly 50 years out of time. I love an orchestral arrangement though, and this one is lush. There’s something huge but entirely unpretentious about it. The final minute is a triumph.
V: Wow, I’d forgotten how beautiful she looked and sounded. There’s something surreal about Monaco’s short-lived return to Eurovision, like it never really happened, and for what it’s worth it might as well not have given the results they achieved. This, though, deserved better. For the camerawork alone if nothing else.

07 Israel
B: Beautiful Hebrew lyrics, with classic lines like “Noshemet li mimkha vehata’am kvar mar”. The English lyrics don’t exude the same poetry, but they still suit the song – and the emotional transformation Shiri undergoes in performing it – perfectly.
A: This stands out simply for being a straightforward ballad from a country that would normally produce drowsy anthems or political statements set to music. But it sets itself apart in a hundred other ways, too. (I don’t need to list them, do I.)
V: Ms Darly is knocked into a cocked hat by Ms Maimon, despite the fact that she gives a flawless demonstration here in the semi of her quality of being about half a note off for almost the entire duration of the song. She still sends shivers down my spine though. [Later] On song from the off in the final, like some gorgeous, blonde, all-singing Wonder Woman.

08 Belarus
B: More Greek credentials than the Greek entry. I suppose this was the lesser of two evils, given the other option was Boys and Girls. “So take your chance and feel me / I’m ready now” is not an invitation one receives terribly often, sadly.
A: From the word go, you can tell she couldn’t sing her way out of a paper bag. I much prefer this studio version to the one they used in Ukraine with all that farty brass and synths, but that’s still relative: this takes trashy to new levels, and not in a good way.
V: Fabulous outfits. Excruciating vocals.

09 The Netherlands
B: When you strip this song of Glennis Grace’s vocals, all you’re left with is a set of lyrics that’s as tired as the music it’s set to. They’re little more than a string of clichés.
A: See, this is big in a pompous way where Monaco isn’t, at least for me; like it thinks it actually has something to say. I was impressed by it originally, but I can’t for the life of me think why now. That was the trap we all fell into, I suppose.
V: Terrific vocals, as you might expect, but the whole thing’s very sub-Whitney.

10 Iceland
B: I love the listing of “Fast asleep, wide awake, every step / Every move I make”. Pity the latter turned out to be so ham-fisted.
A: Fabulous opening. I love a composition that surprises you without feeling disconnected: here the way the music shifts and changes almost seems organic. Þorvaldur Bjarni Þorvaldsson’s credentials are obvious when he’s got this, All Out of Luck and Congratulations on his CV.
V: So much is squandered here. The false start is rather appropriate, in hindsight, and the cameras fail to catch just about anything that might take the edge off it. Sigh.

11 Belgium
B: There’s only so much soir I can take, to be honest. “Ce soir, tous ces regards / Là dans le noir, la peur et l’espoir” makes you wonder where the lyricist drew his inspiration from.
A: Arguably the least overstated of its ilk in Kyiv, but that is also its undoing. Still, I never have anything against listening to it all the way through, as it has a certain pull. And I’ve always liked the way the last 20 seconds make it sound like they’re branching out into a completely different song.
V: Vocals of the night so far. The stage, lighting and camerawork are all pleasingly muted.

12 Estonia
B: “Bold and beautiful ain’t our theme tonight” is an understatement. I pointed out to ETV that these lyrics were shit, and they passed on my suggestions to Sven Lõhmus, but he was either too proud to change them or didn’t care.

A: Flat, unimaginative and horribly insistent music, which is ironically appropriate.
V: LOL at the “Estoniya – woooooo!” some random woman screams at the start. Dana ‘token Black one’ Ots is the only member of Suntribe who looks natural; Jaanika Vilipo looks like an Oompa-Loompa in drag. Until the middle eight their collective vocals are more together than I’d given them credit for, but that’s not saying much. “Elagu Eesti!” (‘long live Estonia’) they shout at the end, but I’d rather put the country out of its misery if this is the best it can come up with.

13 Norway
B: “Love is all over me” as a hook is lascivious, and therefore gets my thumbs up. If they were going for a total ’80s feel with the lyrics, they couldn’t have been more spot-on.
A: Like I said at the time, they open the song with exactly the right bit, and after that you can’t help but go along for the ride. I stand by my view that it’s one of the most together productions and complete packages of the year.
V: Crowd-pleaser from about three seconds in. They’re a bit like your dad’s favourite band from before you were born.

14 Romania
B: Let’s be honest – it’s not about the words, is it?

A: It’s not much about the music either, as bombastic and fabulous as it is.
V: It’s all about the performance. Without doubt Romania’s shrewdest entry, despite Luminiţa’s tin-foil corset. Her voice has such projection and she has to hold the microphone so far from her mouth that it looks like she’s miming. Sistem are dressed a bit oddly: with the fixtures and fittings, it’s like a blue-collar gay disco in a radioactive-waste warehouse.

15 Hungary
B: Lyrics full of odd concepts which are sufficiently evocative to cancel out the impact of the na-na-na bits. I like the awareness in “Vad éjszakád / Megöl, bár csókkal vár”.
A: Drive, depth and subtlety. And clapping! Love it.
V: Silvia Szabó, you are the weakest link. Goodbye. Thank God she smiles when she dances. Amazing routine.

16 Finland
B: Two things make these lyrics more palatable than The War Is Not Over: they’re not being sung by a duo of gormless teens, and they sound better. I particularly like the couplet “Morning breaks with the news of violence / Nothing moves in the haze of silence”, although parts of the rest of it are still a bit OTT.
A: Fantastic vocals, and the piano and acoustics are great, too. By the end though it’s a bit like a deflated soufflé – it rises nicely, but then there’s just a bit too much hot air and pop! It’s gone.
V: Ouch, it’s a total styling disaster. Brilliant vocals though.

17 FYR Macedonia
B: I like the inversion of the man struggling out from under the thumb of the woman, but putting a more positive spin on it would probably have made more sense and certainly have been easy enough.
A: Way better than the original, which is true of all Macedonian entries really. The verses remain plodding and ambition-free until the bridge, which has some amusing sound effects when you listen for them. The instrumental break finally gives the song some focus.
V: Shit dancing from absolutely everyone \o/

18 Andorra
B: Another poetic entry from Andorra. “Ves i explora dins del teu univers interior” leaves itself entertainingly open to interpretation.
A: It’s immediately obvious with this song that it has a purpose, if you know what I mean. It’s grand and theatrical in a way that’s unexpected and unexpectedly effective, especially when offset by that middle eight. The integrity is admirable.
V: Not that this was a sow’s ear to start with, but they certainly made a silk purse out of it. Anabel Conde’s breakdown aside.

19 Switzerland
B: It’s uncanny that a set of lyrics penned by Bernd Meinunger resonates so strongly of Vanilla Ninja’s bread-and-butter stuff. I’ve no idea what they mean.

A: Surprising how perfectly pitched it is, too.
V: It’s interesting to see them halfway between styles here. They were never going to replicate the studio version’s angelic chorus, but that doesn’t excuse the half-hearted attempt we do get. Lenna Kuurmaa, needless to say, is fantastic.

20 Croatia
B: Wolves Die Alone isn’t the most upbeat of titles, but it reflects an impressively dark set of lyrics, with lines like “Tišina k’o sidro veže mrak” and “K’o lišće sam, vjetar me raznosi” standing out. No wonder composer Franjo Valentić went from this to Moja štikla.
A: That opening is about as Macedonian (or by extension Albanian) as any of the other former Yugoslav republics have gotten at Eurovision. The music is brilliant at pulling you along with it: there’s a real tug to the composition.
V: Oops, I was singing along and forgot to type anything. [Later] I’d forgotten what an unnecessary distraction the hand-standing, foot-clapping drummer is.

21 Bulgaria
B: “Lorraine in the rain” deserves a slap, but “Whispering your name again / Singing prayers among the stars” is lovely.
A: Yet another surprising debut, for all sorts of reasons. This is just as authentic and uncompromising as Moldova. The arrangement is fantastic, and the sound effects are a simple touch that works well.
V: The lead singer is just too good-looking for words, and he’s not even my type. He puts in a classy vocal performance for someone who is, or was, actually a dancer. The stage looks fantastic with its tortoise-shell effect.

22 Ireland
B: 90% of this is eye-rollingly self-important, but I love the middle verse (“If you want it, come and get it / Even though you know the score”).
A: Why does anything uptempo from Ireland tend to sound so strange? The harmonies here are great, voices aside. The Riverdance bit doesn’t work in studio.
V: Donna gets points for her gutsy vocals. Joe gets my sympathy for looking like such an incurable dork. As an ensemble they earn my respect for filling the stage and the screen, although much of the praise here must go to the lighting director.

23 Slovenia
B: Slovene often sounds a little clunky and unattractive to me, but there are lines here – “Zakaj se oba pretvarjava?” and “Kot prah obriši me, pod prsti zruši vse” – where I’m forced to revise my opinion.
A: I love the way Omar delivers this. Classy effort from Slovenia, which is not something we often got to say about their entries up to this point. Fantastic ending.
V: Has anyone ever given such a Joey-from-Friends performance at Eurovision, or looked the part more? God love him and his boss-eyed opera-singing friend.

24 Denmark
B: “You nailed me to the floor with just one look” makes for a great opening line. I still prefer the Danish version, but I’ve warmed to what we got.
A: Amazing piano. Amazing everything when you absorb it through headphones. As is normal for Danish entries, there’s something very cosy about the arrangement.
V: There’s a tremendous sense of confidence in this performance, and the stage hasn’t looked this good all night. [Later] It still hasn’t looked this good all night!

25 Poland
B: “Hajda wy bystre konie / Nieście nas z całych sił – aha!” is a bit of a wink-wink, nudge-nudge moment.
A: I don’t know whether the Roma feel to this is authentic, but it’ll do. It makes for one of the most uptempo Eurovision entries ever.
V: There’s a bit too much going on here for it to work, but I like it, and it’s clear they left the best stage designs to the end of the night. Ivan could pass himself off as Eric Roberts from the right angle.

26 United Kingdom
B: Kudos to Ms Hylton for penning her own lyrics. I especially like the verse openers “Do you really wanna feel my flow” and “Are you easy come and easy go”.
A: This seemed like such a good idea at the time, but when you listen to it now it’s pretty empty, and not in a minimalist-but-effective kind of way. There’s only so much room on the playing field in this genre: the Balkans have most of it, and France gets a look in, but the UK is squeezed out here, even though there’s no real reason it should be. Though the rest of it leaves me (ironically) cold, the middle eight – where it still sounds to me like everything else has just been the intro to some massive house remix – is great.
V: You wouldn’t pick this for a British entry in a million years. Javine always puts me in mind of those hopeless bints who’d get eliminated in the first or second week of America’s Next Top Model: the ones who have the look and the attitude, but stick ’em in front of a camera and the only clue they have is the one given to them. In this case her instructions were clearly to flash her ring in as crass and obvious a way as possible before exiting the stage.

27 Malta
B: Simple and effective, like The One That I Love.
A: Simple and effective and better than The One That I Love.
V: Simple and effective and more immediate than The One That I Love.

28 Turkey
B: Some of these lyrics go a long way to explaining why Gülseren comes across the way she does: “Müptela olmuş, dönmüşüm şaşkına” and “Acınası bak şu deli halim” in particular. Others show that the song is rather downbeat, despite everything: “Aşk değil bu, sanki bir ceza bana” and “Sonunda yine beni mahvedensin”. Bearing all of this in mind, what we end up with is strangely appropriate.
A: This still sounds like music to a ‘Visit Turkey’ commercial to me, but with no sense of going anywhere.
V: Settle down, dear! It’s like some Aztec kung fu-cum-tai chi workshop at the beginning, before turning into a drum display at a Greek taverna worthy of the Orient. It’s mad, but also the best use of six people and a handful of props to fill a stage in a long time.

29 Albania
B: Sidorela is a nice name. Her lyrics are quite nice, too.
A: I’m not sure why this takes so long to do anything; perhaps because the chorus is so flat. It has all the potential in the world but just can’t apply it. [See also: next year.] The last 30 seconds are great though.
V: The arrangement comes across really well live, too. Ledina is all hair and cleavage and teeters on a vocal precipice throughout.

30 Cyprus
B: If Constantinos was aiming for a Sakis feel, at least he got it right in the lyrics.
A: And perhaps in how cheap and contrived it all feels.
V: And in how camp it is.

31 Spain
B: I wonder whether Spanish lyricists get paid by the word. I’d want to be, considering elision means you have to write about twice as much.
A: I love the Bewitched opening. The rhythm and unadulterated Spanishness of this are what make it listenable, in spite of the vocals, which are of the type that never appeal to me.
V: Great use of colour on the stage and in their dresses, but rough vocals. And the guys in the background are one collective mistake.

32 Serbia and Montenegro
B: I suppose you can read something into this if you want to. The rhythm of the lyrics fits the music perfectly.
A: Bells! Sounds enormous. The vocals are uneven in how good they are, but work well together overall. It’s more of a fragment of a song though than a song in its own right, like it’s the last three minutes of some much longer composition.
V: They’re like the cast of an American teen comedy performing some elaborate mating ritual. The timing (and drums) here would make Macedonia proud.

33 Sweden
B: Very taut.
A: Smooth, slick and soulless.
V: Sounds good, but it’s a perfect example of “just doing what we did at Melodifestivalen” falling flat on its arse.

34 Ukraine
B: It’s startling how much this song must have meant to the majority of Ukrainians at the time. There’s plenty of power behind lines like “God be my witness, we’ve waited too long”.
A: An orchestra is what this song needs, and an orchestra is what this song gets. From the halfway mark, and by the end, its wings have well and truly sprouted.
V: The guy with the green guitar was the original Holly in Red Dwarf, wasn’t he? I don’t think any home entry in Eurovision has ever had as much significance as this.

35 Germany
B: The lyrics make this sound like a proper song.
A: It’s not that bad, actually. Fake, yes, but still better than a handful of other songs from 2005. Damning it with faint praise though that may be.
V: A more bum note to start off with we have never had, like she’s launched into the key change two minutes early. The rest of it’s OK, I guess.

36 Greece
B: I maintain that the lyrics to the verses and chorus here read like they were penned by different people, or even for two unrelated songs. I still like the rhymes in delicious/capricious and addiction/conviction/crucifixion.
A: High production values, clear national flavour, entirely accessible to a wider audience, and slightly empty.
V: There might be only one number involved, but it’s been calculated to the last possible place. Still, it produces a commanding routine which is at least the sum of its parts, if not more. Alex Panayi’s backing vocals are flawless.

37 Russia
B: The very Americanness of this still has me scratching my head as to how it ended up in the hands of Ms Podolskaya (or rather her producer) and how it managed to win the national final. I suspect money changed hands.
A: Very solid, if a little blustery as things progress. Makes good use of its three minutes.
V: Natashka surprised me then and surprises me again now for the strength of her performance, which is way better than anything the country had sent in the previous three years. Remind me why half the people involved were Finnish?

38 Bosnia and Herzegovina
B: What a pity for them that the line “Fifty candles on the forty cakes” didn’t come off. It’s all so shamelessly jolly and self-referential.
A: Cheap and likeable, as so many Bosnian entries have been, and the only entry in 2005 to actually make something of the anniversary year. Mr Babić can give me something like this over Cvet z juga any day.
V: Best preview video of the year, hands down. I remember thinking to myself at the time: if the audience is in the right mood, this might actually win. Ha! Still love it though.

39 France
B: These words work quite well as an anthem.
A: The French give us something different at last, without compromising on quality. Fantastic acoustic drive and rhythm, and the strings work a treat in the chorus. I love the variation in the vocals in the last minute, from bare and stripped to multi-layered. It was never going to do very well, but it’s an underrated gem.
V: There’s absolutely nothing wrong with the performance that I can see (or hear). Again, one of the best mixes of stage and lighting is left till the end of the night.

And so to the points...

1 point goes to Bulgaria

2 points go to France

3 points go to Serbia and Montenegro

4 points go to Denmark

5 points go to Slovenia

6 points go to Norway

7 points go to Austria

8 points go to Iceland

10 points go to Romania

and finally...

12 points go to...


Israel!


In such a field it wouldn’t be right to hoard wooden spoons, so two are awarded: one to Cyprus, and one to Estonia.

2004

Quite a lot to like.

01 Finland
B: Good lyrics which go well with the style of music they’re set to.
A: The tango capital of the northern hemisphere shows what it’s made of... with mixed results. The music (in terms of how it’s put together in places) comes across as decidedly mediocre. So much more feels like it could have been made of it without sounding anywhere near as bitty.
V: White trousers don’t even look good on the male dancer, so I don’t know what Jari was thinking. Maybe that’s just the sound, but most of the time he sounds like he’s singing in a different key. And his choreography’s rubbish.

02 Belarus
B: Slightly daft but nevertheless meaningful lyrics. I love the idea of ‘rotating to someone’.
A: I’d forgotten they tampered with this, making it sound appropriately (but less pleasingly) empty. Its lovely combination of sounds would have benefited from richer layering.
V: Lovely lighting. Lovely pottery flute, too. Aleksandra is quaking in her knee-length boots, and her performance is far too static to make an impact.

03 Switzerland
B: “Everything is gonna be alright.” Um...
A: Does this have any musical merit whatsoever? Apart from an exemplary bassline, it’s wall-to-wall bargain-basement horror.
V: Three minutes lasted a lot longer a few years ago, didn’t they. The desperation of it all! It’s like children’s TV, but even more spectacularly awful. The way Piero smacks himself in the face with the microphone sums it up perfectly.

04 Latvia
B: My favourite lines are “Ik reizi, kad tālumā brīnumu jūt / Es vēlos vēl tuvāk tev būt”.
A: The biggest makeover disaster of the entire contest. The original acoustic arrangement suited the lyrics perfectly, but in its place they chose to give us this wall of noise. Stripped of its charm musically, it just sounds lazy and boring.
V: I could have gone to the pub if I’d wanted to listen to something like this. The synchronous drum thing is quite good, but... na na... na na na na na... na na na na... no.

05 Israel
B: The way you can run two lines together to make “To have a dream that maybe one day we can find the way to have a dream” is the lyrical version of an Escher print.
A: I both like and dislike the way the brass is given a voice of its own here, mostly because the arrangement is otherwise dreamy but predictable. The song doesn’t really go anywhere either. The la-la chorus is Israel by numbers and hugely irritating. And David D’Or may have a golden voice, but I’m more of a silver man.
V: What a bizarre performance this is. The backing vocals are dreadful, and David looks like he’s just wandering around, unsure of what to do with himself. As it turns out, dropping his balls at the last minute is a very ill-judged move: it’s always struck me as him realising the song has bombed and just saying “fuck it”. It might have come within douze points of qualification, but didn’t deserve to on this showing.

06 Andorra
B: “Vull que em diguis ‘jo t’estimo’, tot i no ser veritat” and the chorus as a whole make these probably the best lyrics of 2004 and of Eurovision generally in a long time.
A: I preferred this before they played with it, but there’s no denying the strength of the composition and arrangement. The weak link is of course Ms Roure herself, whose voice doesn’t suit proceedings entirely. Nevertheless, it’s a terrific debut.
V: In studio at least. Marta looks like she’s been pulled through a hedge backwards, and sounds off from the first line. The choreography’s way too busy for a song that delivers 180 words a minute, giving her no room to breathe at all, and she’s already struggling on the low notes. Come the bridge, the vocals are on another planet altogether.

07 Portugal
B: As it turns out, nothing in the song lives up to the promise of excitement in the lines “Não sei o que me deu / Mas de repente lá estava eu”. Maybe they’re more rueful than raring to go.
A: Is this version better than the epilepsy-inducing original? Who can say. It doesn’t inspire you to think anything much about it at all. It’s repetitive AF, and a criminal waste of Sofia Victoria’s voice.
V: Nice, simple, controlled choreography after Andorra’s display of Tourette’s syndrome. Pink’s not many people’s colour, but Sofia pulls it off in style. They all look fabulous, in fact. The are far too few close-ups on the lads. [18,000 years later] It’s still going. Even the 60-second version from the abridged Australian showing of the semi was pushing it.

08 Malta
B: Taken out of context, I can’t help but titter at “how do I reach inside you?”.
A: Terrible edit within the opening 10 seconds. If you rip shreds off Monaco for being monotonously pre-programmed – for this is what I am about to do – you can’t but take aim at this. At least Mr Siegel was experienced enough in remixing it to make it borderline catchy. Julie & Ludwig’s melodramatic delivery is a real love-it-or-hate-it thing; I tend towards the latter, but I guess it works as part of the overall package. Still, it’s Malta at its most sickeningly twee.
V: Ludwig’s a dork, but Julie’s a bit of a diva. I’m glad they got the camerawork [almost] right for the final, because it’s very effective. The stage looks huge, too. Ludwig almost laughs out loud, twice, faced with Julie’s operatic nonsense, as would I in his position. Great energy in the final chorus, which the crowd responds to: it sounds like the entire population of Malta’s in the arena.

09 Monaco
B: It’s a pity great lines like “On a construit des prisons de verre / Sur des forêts de cendres” are nullified by others like “Qui se souvient des océans bleus / Des baleines et leurs chants?”.
A: The whale song is the icing on the cake in this Kids-4-Conservation anthem. It has a few random good points, but when you pull it apart it’s just a beat and a few sound effects with Maryon on her schoolgirl soapbox remonstrating in the background. Get a fucking clue, Monaco.
V: The first real gimmick of the contest and it comes from this lot! Not sure what the spangly cape is meant to represent, but I’m loving it. Maryon looks and sounds a hundred times better than expected, but this is too much like a school concert for the mums and the mayor to be given much consideration.

10 Greece
B: These lyrics are expressly designed to make everyone think Sakis wants to shag them.
A: God, what trash. It sounds almost as cheap as Celebrate, and has almost as little credibility musically, but is much catchier. I once again find myself drawn to the bassline, which is great.
V: Oh, I forgot that was the pre-makeover version. The wonders a decent remix can work! The sound being so much better in the final than in the semi means you can pick out a lot more (= any) detail in the music. But this is Eurotrash porn for the one-hand-clapping masses. If it had won, it would have made no more dignified a winner than Marie N; there just would have been a much larger slice of the audience wanting to have sex with the singer. And to give him his dues, he’s a great performer. Who can just about hold a tune.

11 Ukraine
B: She’s taking the piss if she thinks we’ll believe lines like “Napevno, daremno / Bula ya nadto chemna” when she’s clad in leather and wielding a whip strong enough to crack a stage open.
A: You can’t deny the efficiency with which this song gets its point across. The arrangement makes it sound like Ruslana had the stage show worked out in advance.
V: What a draw for them! How better to top Sakis, as it were, than with something like this. It might not be a winning song, but it’s unquestionably the winning performance, with lighting and cameras working hand in hand with the choreography to produce something you really can’t take your eyes off. The hugely energetic song helps, of course. Fantastic dancers. See, everybody (except Silvia Night): act like a winner and you will very probably win. I’d still rather they hadn’t though.

12 Lithuania
B: I love the eagerness to slip back into bad habits in “Yes, I’ve made mistakes before / Give [me] your hand, let’s go for more”.
A: As with so many Lithuanian entries, there’s absolutely no pretence to this. The high bit before the bridge is great. Cute arrangement which shows plenty of imagination, if not a lot of direction.
V: This lacks any kind of oomph after Ukraine, and the daft clown show in the background just doesn’t work. Simona looks like she tore the dress off Julie’s back. Even without the heels, she’d be a good foot taller than spunkrat Linas. Awful sound mix.

13 Albania
B: Generally excellent English lyrics. I couldn’t agree more with “How strange the feeling in your soul / When love invades your very being”.
A: The miracle they worked with this! The approach to the arrangement and instrumentation is a bit dated, but it still works. Besides, the song is carried by Anjeza’s voice and performance, and they’re winners.
V: Crowd support made a huge difference in 2004: it was so vocal. Fab stage and lighting – the best so far if you ask me. Anjeza looks damn cute and has a fine set of lungs on her. Great ending, too. How come it took them until 2009 to get the same idea again? [A few nights later...] I like the restyled hair, but the new dress is less flattering. The bespectacled backing vocalist looks extra cute in his school uniform.

14 Cyprus
B: There’s something pathetic about the story here that I like rather too much.
A: I’m still not convinced by Mike Conaris’ victory in the amongst-friends composer-of-the-year awards, but there is something simple and heartfelt here that works well with the lyrics, and Lisa’s delivery of them. It gets a bit sentimental at times with the tinkling bells and whirlpool of strings, but without stepping too far over the mark.
V: She’s so cute! This is the perfect example of how a performance can completely turn a song around: I’d written it off beforehand, but was won over with ease on the night. It doesn’t even matter that she’s a bit off in places – in fact, it just serves to make it seem even more genuine. I like the way she completely ignores the camera, even when it’s right in her face.

15 FYR Macedonia
B: “I search for a place where I’ll be free / From all that is said and all that’s been done / It’ll be hard to find it inside of me” – Macedonia really is the new Italy at Eurovision. “It’s true – you know it, don’t you?”
A: Such symmetry between the music and lyrics! Shifting and sensuous and passionate and confessional and challenging... It’s all this and so much more.
V: Now this, as the Pet Shop Boys call it, is PopArt. Apart from the poor lad’s breakdown (which is itself artistically merited), I can’t praise it enough. I love the way he stares at his hand. The colour scheme is brilliant, too. Toše looks like he should have a steed between his legs at the end, when it sounds like half of Macedonia was in the hall, too.

16 Slovenia
B: Bonus points for the irony inherent in “What the rest of the world thinks doesn’t matter / Because we know it better.”
A: In its defence, I still sing along to this every time it comes on, and the harmonies are great. Unassuming, undemanding easy listening. Rubbish of course, but in a kind of good way. Like a few songs this year, it could have done with the BPM being cranked up.
V: The colours say it all. It’s nice that they got to get married on the Bosphorus: their trip wasn’t entirely wasted.

17 Estonia
B: You can give me lines like “Oroviir mõtsatii ülõ jõõ ülõ mää” any day.
A: It’s easy to overlook just how authentic a piece of Seto music this is, except of course they’d never have the drums. But does the fact that tubby old ladies might be found singing its ilk on the Russian border make it any good? Actually, I think it does. There’s a lot of power to it vocally, and Priit Pajusaar and Glen Pilvre’s arrangement is as lovely as ever. Outside of Estonia though it can’t help but tend towards novelty value rather than value per se.
V: It’s a sister act-off! Anu tries far too hard. Much as I like this, it just comes across as a bit daft. Peeter Jõgioja and his drums are the best thing about it. The girls’ vocals are good in their way.

18 Croatia
B: Bland, but sweet, and a decent approximation of the original Croatian lyrics.
A: This is a real headphones song. You could drown yourself in that first minute; it’s like aural anaesthesia, in a good way. The chorus renders it all slightly more pedestrian, but Ivan’s impassioned vocals always keep you listening. I still love the ending.
V: A beautifully measured performance, with some amazing background lighting on the screens. I’m glad he changed his suit between the semi and the final.

19 Denmark
B: These lyrics ring very true.
A: I suppose if there’s one thing Eurovision teaches you it’s that Latino music done by anyone north of the Pyrenees gets nowhere. Which is not a criticism of this song as such; it’s well-produced and full of good ideas, but unavoidably soulless.
V: And very red. This performance is camp, competent and not very engaging, and the Heelys add nothing, but Thomas boasts an impressive set of shoulders.

20 Serbia and Montenegro
B: I love the lines “Nađi nekog nalik meni / Da te barem ne volim”.
A: Everything about this is lush, including Željko and his voice. It has to be the richest composition of 2004, and of the entire contest in many years.
V: Beautifully staged. I love the way the performance is allowed to unfold visually at its own pace. I should only ever listen to this though, because every time I watch it I’m distracted by the fact that Željko’s wearing way too much make-up (and that he’s foolishly allowed himself to be persuaded to wax his chest).

21 Bosnia and Herzegovina
B: Nice to see the Bosnians can maintain their lyrical economy even in English.
A: I’d forgotten how farty the synths sound in the studio version, but however unimaginative it may be, it works pretty well.
V: That’s one helluva mutant disco ball! I don’t find this particularly attractive as a performance, but the insistent rhythm and effective choreography do the trick. The direction is excellent, too. I hadn’t noticed before that they all went pink in the final, as if wasn’t already as camp as a row of tents.

22 The Netherlands
B: Naff beyond words.
A: Still, two boys and a guitar did the business, at least until the final. It really shows how less than a handful of carefully chosen instruments, voice among them, can be a million times more effective than chucking everything at the wall and hoping some of it sticks.
V: Closing out the semi, this works perfectly right after Bosnia. The lads look like they’re having fun, and that’s half the battle won. We see a lot of their teeth, which are the most fluorescent things on the stage. There are some nice directorial touches again, which the later Greek production tried (and failed) to emulate. The grey stonewash denims are a no-no.

23 Spain
B: Such evocative lyrics, as with so many Mediterranean romance-language entries: there’s that seemingly token mention of wheat again, and a whole cocktail of other references in “Su recuerdo sabe a sal y a hierbabuena”. I appreciate the fnaar-fnaar value of ‘her full moons’ and indeed of “Hoy me quedé vacío para llenarme de ti”.
A: This stands out a mile on the compilation album, coming so soon after Denmark’s Play-Doh Latino number. It has no trouble sounding authentic or maintaining any richness in its composition, but bits of it – especially towards the end – sound like afterthoughts. Which indeed they are.
V: I hate the way he pretends to play the guitar for about two bars before it’s carried off by the game-show hostess like some consolation prize. This performance is not Ramon’s finest hour as a vocalist, beyond the verses, and he leaves taking his clothes off (or at least looking like he’s about to) far too late. The choreography suits the song quite well though, and they certainly manage to fill up the stage.

24 Austria
B: “Du bist ein Wahnsinns-Optimist”.
A: It takes less than 10 seconds for this to make the hairs stand up on the back of my neck. It lacks any kind of sincerity. The vocals are horrible, even in the studio version. I simply cannot understand how the televoters of Austria thought they stood a chance with it.
V: Atrocious. At least you get to laugh at Switzerland. Two of the three lads are passably cute in my books, but even so...?

25 Norway
B: Individual aspects of these lyrics should irritate, but as a whole they just work.
A: I remember saying at the time that I saw only this and Sweden as potential winners. (We’ve all got to err occasionally, I suppose.) In hindsight, I can completely see why no one went for it, but it still works for me. Its problem is that the tune is there, in the chorus and bridge at least, but it’s not given the treatment it deserves. It sounds a lot slower than I recall, too: I want to wind it up so that it plays faster.
V: Good vocals from both Knut and the backing. The pictures help here, but it still drags.

26 France
B: “[Il y a] Tellement de ratures qu’il faudra effacer” is clever.
A: How rarely piano and strings fail. This sounds quite special and yet entirely radio-friendly at the same time. Does the latter take away from the former? Perhaps a little, as it seems to run out of steam in its efforts to sound the same throughout. The Spanish bit comes as a pleasant surprise, now that I hear it again.
V: WTF staging and imagery from France, or anyone for that matter. You can feel the audience urging the stilt-walking woman to fall flat on her arse. Great ‘ad libs’ by the excellent backing vocalists. Jonathon looks like he just woke up.

27 Germany
B: I love the lines “Don’t wanna talk about the way I am” (which has the same ring of truth to it as Jugarem a estimar-nos) and “The way you smiled has turned my life around”.
A: For every truly crappy entry or three, Germany still tends to come up with something pretty damn good every now and then. Stefan Raab knew what he was doing here; it sounds like it came ready-made for Max. The arrangement is tremendous, and the last minute or so is a little studio triumph.
V: Lovely stuff. The Turkish chorus is a great touch. Monobrow Max even outdoes the Dutch boys in the stonewashed look, and his breakdown is far more enjoyable to watch than Toše’s.

28 Belgium
B: I hope she maintained the “I can hear what people say / It doesn’t matter anyway” line after the event.
A: This still has a fair kick to it. I suppose its problem, in retrospect, was that it always promised more than it ever delivered. Not through any fault of its own necessarily: what it does it does without any pretence. Great middle eight.
V: You can tell it’s a fan favourite by all the screaming coming from the front rows. There’s some glorious androgyny on display here. Xandee has an odd, almost-but-not-quite quality to her voice that isn’t exactly problematic but becomes more obvious as the song goes on. And the song does go on a bit.

29 Russia
B: Some good lines here (like “You and I can talk, and I sound colder”) are offset against some utter shite.
A: The only thing I think of when I hear this is the crap preview video with those fucking flame-throwers. There are some decent ideas at work in the music, but none of them are cooperating: the this-bit-then-that-bit arrangement goes precisely nowhere. In the end, “Believe me, I just don’t care” sums up exactly how I feel.
V: Well, this exists in its own little world, doesn’t it. Bizarre. Julia comes very close to sounding very awful.

30 Iceland
B: I love the line “I lay down and cry, and the rivers are dry”.
A: Jonsi’s vocals are almost drowned out in places by the swirling orchestration. There’s nothing wrong with his voice, but I’d quite like to hear this as an instrumental; it would be fantastic under the National Symphony of Iceland. A bit faceless, all the same.
V: Jonsi had a supporting role in Eleven Men Out, an Icelandic film about a gay soccer team, and looked great in grass-stained, mud-spattered shorts. Here he’s a bit too contrived, as is his performance.

31 Ireland
B: What does “that’s when I feel wholesome” mean? Does he feel like a box of Special K or something?
A: Eww, it’s the sucky studio version. What was it with Ireland doing new versions they never used? This one’s ’80s rock anthem stylings are appalling. It served Ireland right that Mickey Harte’s relative success led them to choose two of their worst ever entries under the same format. Not that the level of Irish entries since has been consistently higher.
V: This version’s just as naff. I wouldn’t half let Chris Doran kick-box me round the ring in his black belt though. He looks like he’d come ready-oiled to boot. Lovely crow’s feet.

32 Poland
B: So much muchacha!
A: God, did it really sound like this? It feels like I’m listening to a song I’ve never heard. It’s wonderfully idle, and you’d never pick it as coming from Poland. Puerto Rico, perhaps, but not Poland. Tatiana’s vocals are amazing. This comes into its own past the halfway mark, but by then it’s too late. And too long.
V: Everyone’s outfits are awful, and the comedy brass bandette doesn’t work. The bridge is great stuff though, and I admire them for doing their own thing with such conviction.

33 United Kingdom
B: If Mr Fox really does ‘feel so complete’ he should get together with Chris Doran to form the British Isles’ most nutritious breakfast. I’d give ’em a nosh.
A: This works for the same reasons many other songs would crash and burn: everything you might reasonably expect to happen does so. Of course, this also makes it feel not at all surprising or special.
V: Wrong place, wrong time, James: too many middle-of-the-road male soloists for one contest. He does quite a decent job, but then he did only have to stand there. Every time I try to recall what he looks like (which isn’t often, to be fair), my brain shows me Francine Jordi.

34 Turkey
B: “All I know is you don’t want to be part of the crowd...”
A: I had the opening here as the alarm ring tone on my phone for a long time: I woke every morning to Athena-brand east-meets-west ska. It’s a triumph, and one of the most inspired choices – arguably one of very few – that Turkey has ever made in Eurovision. Brilliant ending.
V: Fantastic home entry. So much character.

35 Romania
B: I love the shameless desperation (“I’ll be your fool as long as you are mine”) and honesty (“It’s good to admit / That my heart starts to race when you walk through that door”) of it all.
A: The way the opening is structured makes you think we’re in for another Macedonia, but then the first chorus kicks in and you realise it’s much more straightforward. I like the way the arrangement continues to build, and the guitar’s great, and the bridge is good, but overall it lacks the pizzazz they nevertheless try and throw at it. It feels like the musical equivalent of treading water for the better part of three minutes.
V: The two things I will always remember about this performance are that one of the dancers (presumably unintentionally) fondles Sanda’s breasts during the bridge, and that Sanda herself fumbles the words going into the first chorus.

36 Sweden
B: “The pain I feel inside / I’m clinging to my pillow” – she clearly isn’t aware that she’s supposed to be biting it.
A: Proper pop trash is in the blood of all Swedes, it seems. This might not pretend to be anything else, but it’s no slouch. There’s plenty to like: the great hook in the chorus, for starters, and the bridge, which is exemplary. A truly fabbalous three minutes of schlager.
V: This performance has always struck me as a bit misguided and lazy, at least vocally, even though it’s clear that Lena Ph is an accomplished stage artist. It’s quite tongue-in-cheek in places though, which is a boon.


And so to the points…

1 point goes to Croatia

2 points go to Albania

3 points go to France

4 points go to Belarus

5 points go to Sweden

6 points go to Andorra

7 points go to Germany

8 points go to FYR Macedonia

10 points go to Turkey

and finally...

12 points go to...


Serbia and Montenegro!


Two wooden spoons are awarded for 2004 – not because the field is bigger, but because they are equally shit. Well done to Austria and Switzerland! Proud neighbours.

2003

Funny year: when you look at it objectively, it’s a game of two halves musically and lyrically, with fewer gems and a higher pecentage of truly bad songs. But when you look at it subjectively, as a package, the whole thing just works. Somehow the good and the bad combine to make a year that is Eurovision in microcosm, and all the better for it.

01 Iceland
B: The fact that the lyrics here actually have something to say – albeit not as poetically as the original Icelandic ones – is proof that you can translate things and not make them banal in the process if you actually try.
A: Iceland never skimp, do they, even when they’re producing something essentially throwaway: this has layers of richness you only find in truly good pop songs, of which I’ve always thought this is a flawless example. Mind you, I know at least two people who hate it for that very reason, finding it unbelievably predictable.
V: Lovely performance, with a great ending. The music, lighting and direction gel perfectly.

02 Austria
B: Zany as this is, it does have a message, and it’s one I appreciate.
A: Having said that, I tend to leave it rather than take it as a piece of music, despite the fact that its subtleties are often overlooked and that its Jekyll & Hyde nature is quite appropriate.
V: Even if you don’t like it, you have to admire it for working so well on stage. As a piece of theatre it’s pretty much genius.

03 Ireland
B: I have my doubts that a lot of time and effort went into these lyrics, but I like the lines “Ask me why / My feet never touch the ground / ... / You take my breath away”.
A: They didn’t go to a lot of trouble with the music either, if I’m honest. It’s effective, but there’s no getting round the fact that it sounds like something written for a finalist in a TV music contest.
V: Ireland strikes back with something prodigiously uninspired but completely lovable and, IMO, deserving of its top 10 finish. News of Mickey’s dad’s death just prior to the contest had me rooting for him all the way, and I was sure towards the end that he was choking back the tears. Might have been an eyelash though. Great staging again.

04 Turkey
B: The banality of the chorus here – “I’ll cry slash I’ll die slash make you mine again” – is offset superbly by some spot-on lines like “You say you love me and you roll your eyes / Turn to stare at the empty skies”.
A: If Andorra ever required proof that you don’t have to sacrifice your virtue in order to be successful at Eurovision, they need look no further than this song. All the more so since they’re prodigious remixers, which is what got this over the line. In fact, the finesse with which it was shaped from nothing into something is astonishing: the version on the official CD pales in comparison to the version we got in Riga.
V: It’s no surprise Turkey won with this, their most Western entry in many respects, although the music, arrangement and presentation all scream ‘different culture’ in the best way possible. Triumphant performance, despite a few vocal wobbles, and a true benchmark for years to come.

05 Malta
B: How many cliches does it take to change a lightbulb?
A: This remix is a vast improvement on the original, which it either completely is or completely isn’t with Malta. It’s the kind of thing that’s been coming second-last in national finals the length and breadth of Europe for the better part of 50 years, so it was only fitting that it slotted neatly into 25th place in Riga.
V: Boring, overlong and flat as a tack. Lynn seems lovely, but there was little she could have done to make much of this. Great camerawork again though, and the backing vocals are good.

06 Bosnia and Herzegovina
B: It took me years, but it was nice to finally discover that “Sava Raka tika taka bija baja buf” actually means something. Nevertheless, I think I was justified in assuming it was a load of cobblers.
A: This is a perfect example of composers fucking up a good song for no discernible reason. The crash-bang-wallop strips it of character and of the sassy appeal that makes the far more discotastic original version the only one I ever listen to. Oh, and the English version’s shit.
V: This sounds completely out of tune live, and only comes together in the last 30 seconds or so – not coincidentally when it starts to sound more like the original. Such a shame. I had high hopes for it, but I really can’t stand the as-broadcast version, despite Mija’s huge vocal turn.

07 Portugal
B: There’s more than a hint of poetry about that entire opening verse.
A: This is completely hopeless as a Eurovision entry anywhere this side of the mid-’90s, but I absolutely adore it. It presses all my big-ballad buttons at once.
V: Our Rita gives a diva’s performance that brings me out in goosebumps every time. The lighting, staging and camerawork are also generally excellent, although I could pick the latter’s zooms and what have you well before they happened from knowledge of the kind of tricks director Marius Bratten went for. I love some of the little touches here, too, like the exaggerated breath on ‘levo arrrrrrrr’.

08 Croatia
B: “I tko si ti sada da mi sudiš?” They’re called the televoting hordes of Europe, love.
A: This song is brilliant... if you like the Britney Spears/Backstreet Boys brand of pre-programmed pop. I tend to, needless to say.
V: I’d assumed Ms Beni would be hopeless, but of course she’s not. Clever stage routine, helped by more great lighting. It loses it a bit when they collapse into English, but they bring it back together with that great ending of Claudia rolling her eyes, jumping (well, being lifted) into the arms of the hunky dancers* and giggling away.

*The one and only time Andrej Babić has caught my eye. For me though it’s the quieter one, as it always tends to be.

09 Cyprus
B: Kudos to Stelios for performing a song he’d composed and written himself, but couldn’t he at least have made some effort where the lyrics were concerned? These must go down as some of the most trite and perfunctory in the history of the contest.
A: If this wasn’t DOA, it certainly dies after about two minutes. But then it just goes on and on and on. And I accused Malta of being too long! The only musical thing I like is the guitar strumming through it.
V: At least we have Stelios to look at; the Cypriot postcard was the only one to stir any sort of interest in me once he got into his shorts. (What is it with hairy-legged Greeks and football in Eurovision postcards?) The cheesy – if pretty – choreography raises more eyebrows than it does smiles.

10 Germany
B: Utter shite.
A: I’ve never liked this much, or found anything to redeem it lyrically or musically. But it seems to suit the occasion.
V: Why does Germany only do well with this kind of thing when they’re deliberately playing it up? It’s not like it’s that different to their entry of a year earlier, although I suppose it is much more of a party song. The question answers itself, in any case.

11 Russia
B: These lyrics remain... intriguing.
A: Here’s another remix that does very little for me when the original was so strong. Still, it’s as well produced as most Russian entries, with some fabulous synths. It stands out a mile from everything else.
V: Cue pantomime villains! I’d been cynical about them representing Russia, but when I heard the song I relented. Then they made a pig’s arse of it and that was that. A truly awful vocal performance from the red-haired one, which is no surprise really: she can’t sing. The whole approach is lazy. I was gobsmacked when I first saw it and appalled that they were so well rewarded for it. Excellent lighting though.

12 Spain
B: Lyrics: love ’em. Especially the lines “No permitas que el orgullo sea / Quien decida por los dos”, which must be the death knell of many a relationship.
A: This has the advantage over We’ve Got the World of not sounding like it was written especially for a reality show winner, albeit probably only because it’s so generic within its, er, genre.
V: Beth sounds surprisingly weak in places, and the routine comes across as ‘taught’ rather than ‘taut’, but the music gets me every time. The backing vocalist with the magenta hair has always annoyed me for some reason.

13 Israel
B: “Ken, ani kaze romantikan!” Alas, that doesn’t translate into a decent set of lyrics.
A: If you take this for what it is, it’s not bad: a bit been there, done that (about 50 years ago) but not entirely unaccomplished as a piece of music.
V: Upbeat and vocally very good, but a tad too Benny Hill for my liking.

14 The Netherlands
B: There are some great lines here, the best one perhaps being “You’ll never rise above / Being with the one you love”.
A: In terms of composition this is another sterling Dutch entry, with a beginning, a middle, an end and room to spare all inside of three minutes. Anyone who looks down on pop should listen to this and be forced to concede the quality it both demands and produces.
V: Heathens find this performance questionable; I love it. Even my brother, something of a Eurovision sceptic, was won over when we were watching it. Vocally perfect, beautifully lit and shot... It’s just so good. Poor Esther :(

15 United Kingdom
B: “I need a love that is big enough” – yes, I think we know what they’re looking for, and that they’re probably looking for it in the same place. Actually, in their way, these lyrics sit together very well.
A: Nothing wrong with this. It’s inventive and clever in ways you don’t expect it to be.
V: Very slick routine. Gemma is in fact perfectly in tune, just in the wrong key. At least it’s not simply a case of her being unable to sing, as per, say, half of Tatu. Chris is irritating, but I love the way he’s the first person in 15 songs to invoke the audience. God knows they needed to. I also love the way you have the Macy Gray backing vocalist offset by two who look like newsreaders.

16 Ukraine
B: “You are so wrong” indeed.
A: Better than the actual Israeli entry. Great piano.
V: This makes for a very peculiar debut, and a surprisingly weak one given the powerhouse the country would become in short order. It’s all a bit too frenetic (and static!) and threateningly delivered for its own good. And I still can’t get over the eye-shadow.

17 Greece
B: It’s like an Enid Blyton book: innuendo ahoy if you know what you’re looking for.
A: Greece and the electric guitar – they’re like Siamese twins who share a vital organ, never to be separated. The arrangement otherwise borders on the delightful, and is quite powerful in places, offsetting the gentler moments. Still a bit meh though, all told.
V: Well thought-out direction here. Mando gives another superior vocal performance, but ¡aye bazumbas! what a porny delivery. As we were watching it I added “...daddy!” to her final “yeah...” and it just seemed so appropriate.

18 Norway
B: It’s easy to overlook the fact that these lyrics are utter nonsense.
A: I do like a simple piano-driven ballad that’s done this well. I say piano-driven, but the percussion, acoustics and strings are integral to its success. From the bridge onwards it’s perfect.
V: Jostein is cute in an untouchable kind of way, like he belonged in the kindergarten he taught at, so I’m not surprised he did well for himself. Mind you, he’s helped by yet more brilliant lighting and staging.

19 France
B: Wonderful lyrics. “Je sais qu’il faudrait ne plus en parler / Au moins essayer un peu d’oublier.” I’m sure we’ve all been there before.
A: There’s so much to like about this, as per the majority of French ballads. The arrangement is superb.
V: Up until the final bridge, Louisa gives a disconcertingly immobile, almost cold performance, as if her feet are nailed to the floor, so I wasn’t shocked to see it fare so modestly. The hair malfunction is unfortunate. Stunning, all the same, as songs go.

20 Poland
B: Who am I to argue with “Każdy z nas powinien dotrzeć tam”?
A: The chorus here lets the side down for me: it’s tacky and overly sentimental.
V: Aah, back in the day when three minutes of them was just enough. This is a solid anthem worthy of the decent result it earned. The costumes are to die for.

21 Latvia
B: Yet another set of dopey lyrics.
A: I’ve never had much time for this. It’s decent enough, but nothing special, particularly when there were much better songs in the national final. The chorus is quite catchy though.
V: Mārtiņš Freimanis died far too young, but that doesn’t change the fact he had a fucking annoying voice. Despite everything, I was surprised this did as catastrophically badly as it did for the hosts.

22 Belgium
B: I still haven’t made up my mind as to whether the imaginary language thing was a stroke of genius or just silly.
A: Not that it matters in the end, as it’s the music you focus on, and it’s really rather wonderful. It feels just right in its allotted timeframe.
V: I was so pleased that something like this was still able to do well at Eurovision.

23 Estonia
B: “Everybody’s wearing their hair the way you did fifteen years ago / And it makes you wanna cry” is perhaps my favourite couplet in any Eurovision song.
A: The class and cohesion this displays is astounding.
V: How well this might have done had it all been juries! Not that it’s everyone’s cup of tea, of course. To me, it remains one of the best and most original entries the contest has ever given us. I suppose you just love it or you don’t.

24 Romania
B: They need to work on their conditional clauses.
A: Romania finally get a bit trash-savvy. What a turnaround from 2002! Nicola’s voice borders on the unpleasant for me, but still manages to work in this song, which was always a blatant (if effective) rip-off of that Selecta! thing, whatever it was called.
V: Priceless! I’ve always wondered how Julia Roberts’ character made ends meet before she met Richard Gere in Pretty Woman.

25 Sweden
B: “It’s plain to see that you can rescue me” sounds better than it looks, and given it’s the highlight of these lyrics, it doesn’t say much for the rest of the song.
A: I was predisposed to scorn this just because Alcazar hadn’t won, but needless to say it’s Swedishly reliable. The arrangement plays to its own strengths and delivers the goods as it does so.
V: No one puts a foot wrong here. It’s helped by being song #25, but it has more going for it than that: perfect backing vocals, as usual, and simple but effective choreography. But it’s all just a little bit too polished.

26 Slovenia
B: The twist in the chorus is quite a neat touch in an otherwise by-numbers set of lyrics.
A: Rubbish, obviously.
V: Slovenian Barbie indeed: cheap and oh so plastic. I was spitting chips that neither Poglej me v oči nor Prvič in zadnjič had won, so looked forward to its inevitable demise. Can you believe they had this at third in the betting at 8:1 to win after the final dress rehearsal? It’s vocally good but just far too pink, and that’s despite the odd hairy men standing to one side.


And so to the points...

1 point goes to Russia

2 points go to Spain

3 points go to Portugal

4 points go to Norway

5 points go to Iceland

6 points go to Turkey

7 points go to Belgium

8 points go to France

10 points go to the Netherlands

and finally…

12 points go to...


Estonia!


Matching wooden spoons are awarded to Malta and Cyprus.

2002

It’s funny how proprietorial I get about this contest, having worked on it – it almost exists in a separate little world of its own for me. I find it very hard to view it objectively, albeit not in terms of the songs.

01 Cyprus
B: Well, the English version’s better than the Greek one.
A: Decent enough song, which they completely failed to repeat a year later. Goes on a bit.
V: Shouty, bug-eyed performance that comes across too mechanically to be alluring. They look (and act) like the cast of some Cypriot gay drama.

02 United Kingdom
B: The play on words in “What can I say / That will make up for letting you down” is good.
A: Probably the best British entry of the last 10 years. It’s an acoustic treat. It’s interesting that when you place them side by side, there’s not much separating this and Hold on to Our Love, but the gulf between them in terms of what works and what doesn’t is huge. I’m glad they rejigged the ending to give it more oomph, even if the original downplayed version was more in tune with the lyrics.
V: Charmingly performed, with lots of passion, if a little wonkily in places. The backing vocals are brilliant. Why’s it so hard for the UK to come up with something like this every year? I love the amber/honeycomb backdrop it’s given, and the shredded cowgirl look is on point.

03 Austria
B: Why do I suspect that “If you feel like losin’ your pride, I’ll be there to give you a place where to hide” would translate directly, and perfectly, into German? The chorus is spectacularly bad, given that there are a million words that rhyme with ‘there’ apart from ‘care’.
A: This suits Manuel’s voice down to the ground. I’ve always loved the bassline driving it along, and the bridge and key change are perfect.
V: “Ooh ’e were goooorgeous!”, to quote Little Britain. Tiny little thing he was, too, not that it registers on screen. This sounds fantastic live with the bass booming. Pity about the missed note in the second verse.

Claim to fame #1 – The big reveal of the backing vocalists was my idea. The daft Austrians were just going to have them standing there like numpties.

04 Greece
B: Say!
A: In just three minutes, this manages to bring together everything that was wrong with so much about Greece before they finally got a clue. And why can’t the majority of Greek Eurovision artists pronounce /æ/?
V: Mr Rakintzis has something in his eye, clearly. This is the ESC equivalent of a behind-the-sofa moment: a total disaster from start to finish. Off-key and (ironically) lacking any kind of energy. On the plus side, the colour scheme’s nice, the guitarist at the back is hot, and the whole thing’s good for a laugh.

05 Spain
B: I still don’t really get the point of this. Were we all supposed to be excited about the arrival of the euro? Perhaps it should have been called The European Central Bank’s Living a Celebration. The deluded expectations with which the Spanish delegation entered the competition with this are neatly summed up in the line “Y nace en mí una ilusión”.
A: This is another one I preferred before they remixed it*, but the music’s pretty together for something so trashy, and it’s perfect Eurovision fodder. The little boop-boop thing in the background gets on my nerves though.
V: Everyone was on tenterhooks as to whether Rosa would manage this, but I thought she did well. The backing lot look like they’re working out to a boxercise video for most of it. The final broadcast was the first time that the one in the middle that’s not Gisela actually managed to get the choreography right. It was hardly that challenging.

Claim to fame #2 – I suggested Frankenstein as the most appropriate postcard for the juggernaut that was the Rosa press machine ;-)

06 Croatia
B: It’s nice to see that the ‘incomplete and insecure’ girl Vesna’s left behind has transformed into a cat-o’-nine-tails-wielding temptress with a withering come-hither expression and a love that’s so real it very probably leaves you scarred for life.
A: *Ditto here, although they basically turned this into a different song, so I suppose that makes it OK. As remakes go it arguably takes the best bits of the original and improves on them. The guitars are great, again, but it loses focus after a while.
V: Around the time of the Playboy interlude, in fact. I’m always amazed that there’s virtually no trace of an accent on any of the singers.

07 Russia
B: Generally good.
A: Well-produced, as with most Russian entries, but it tries a little bit too hard to pass itself off as something other than the pop confection it so obviously is.
V: Lovely backdrop. The delegation were fuming that this didn’t do better and looking for excuses everywhere but where they should: the performance, by and large, is a mess. The sound mix doesn’t help, but still.

Not a claim to fame #1 – No coincidence that ‘freedom’ was chosen as the postcard for this!

08 Estonia
B: As ever with a set of Jana Hallas lyrics, I haven’t got a clue what they mean.
A: Originality in abundance (…not) but it gets it over the line. Which tells you something about the quality of the rest of the field in Eurolaul that year, given that this version is many magnitudes better than the original. The jury must have seen its europotential, which brooks no argument.
V: I was fuming about the sound mix on this. Still, it’s an assured [Swedish] performance of a by-the-book [Estonian] pop song and works perfectly. From the key change to the final note it’s sublime, and it must qualify as one of the most feel-good home entries from the off. The atmosphere’s brilliant, and it’s a real testament to the way Sahlene won everyone over before the contest that we all adopted her as one of our own. Says he.

09 FYR Macedonia
B: Sheer poetry, in Macedonian and in English.
A: Brilliant, although it too benefitted enormously from the remix. It’s probably the first Macedonian entry to truly showcase the country’s talent for complex backing vocals which are invaluable to the overall feel and effect of the entry.
V: Live, Karolina’s constantly almost but not quite off-key. (See also: 2005, Shiri Maymon.) But when this hits its stride there’s no stopping it: it just works.

10 Israel
B: I sympathise fully with the sentiment that “Lif’amim nidme she’en tikva” when it comes to Israeli Eurovision entries.
A: Beautiful strings, but Israel can go light a candle under its sanctimonious arse.
V: “No, not THAT camera angle!” [The HoD was obsessed about avoiding shots of Sarit in profile, for some reason – Ed.] Nice outfit. Good hair, too.

11 Switzerland
B: Pretty lyrics. It’s interesting, for want of a better word, that Francine betrayed her German roots in the original version of the song by mispronouncing ‘Éden’ in French.
A: The two slowest students in the class sharing a desk at the back. The composition is delightful, but Francine, charming little pixie though she was, comes across as aphid killer at times with a voice that shrill.
V: And armpits that sweaty. (See also: 2002, Laura Voutilainen.) The organic feel to the backdrop made this by far my favourite staging of the night.

12 Sweden
B: “Forgettin’ all the words of advice” probably wasn’t a good move for them, in hindsight.
A: This is as reliable as most Swedish pop – without actually sounding essentially Swedish for a change, just retro – and again brings the orchestra to the disco very successfully.
V: How did it all go so wrong? Perhaps it was just too overbaked. It descends dizzyingly quickly into a mess of screaming and shouting.

13 Finland
B: There’s nothing special about the lines “When you’re far away [I] fantasize / That you’re in my arms and I jump when I hear the phone” per se, but they sound great in context.
A: The ad break strikes again? One too many ’70s numbers in a row? Whatever the reason, I’m blinkered to its shortcomings as a song. Finland really thought they were on to something here, and I thought they were as well. Its use of three minutes is as efficient as anything the Netherlands might come up with.
V: Maybe it just works better as a song than a performance, when it’s not quite so brash and garish in its presentation. And to be honest, she is pretty slappable: the prima donna she acted like off-stage bleeds through here.

14 Denmark
B: There’s a wonderful sense of impending doom in that opening verse. It’s that whole thing about quicksilver: if you hold onto it too tightly, it shoots out of your hand; if don’t hold onto it tightly enough, it slips through your fingers.
A: In studio, this is really rather stunning.
V: On stage, its grown-up richness just isn’t in evidence. Perhaps it was never going to translate. For someone who was in hair, make-up and wardrobe for an hour, Mahlene looks like she just crawled out of bed and threw on whatever she stepped over in the process.

15 Bosnia and Herzegovina
B: I’d love to see lines like “Ja imam ono što se zove srce” get the whole LaMaja treatment, all pursed lips and uh-uhs and Ru Paul hair. The finger waggling and diva head wobble seem unfairly constrained in a BiH context.
A: Not a hope in hell, but given – literally – where it’s coming from, I can understand why they went for it. Its synthesisers and sassiness certainly won me over.

V: The three backing vocalists have the best frocks (if not dance moves) of the night. Maja, on the other hand, looks like she just stepped out of the kitchen of the Chinese restaurant she works at. But she sings well.

16 Belgium
B: There’s something almost misogynistic about these lyrics that I don’t like.
A: Pushing a song on the basis of it needing to stand out between Bosnia and France proved somewhat flawed as an approach, however much it fulfils the remit. And indeed however good it might be: it comes together very well by the key change. It’s all very Belgian though.

V: Sergio comes across as a bit of a twat. Talk about mid-life crisis.

17 France
B: The epitome of rousing.
A: This is French balladry at its best, even if it’s actually an anthem. Same difference. If it was in Hebrew I’d probably scorn it, but France does it superbly. Sandrine is the perfect choice of vocalist, fragile and vociferous by turns.
V: The voice of the contest, despite the wobble in the first verse. I actually prefer the abridged version to the original.

18 Germany
B: As cheesy as songs about how much people love music are, everything rolls along here perfectly harmlessly – until the bridge, when Ralph & Berndt can’t stop themselves and go off on a peace tangent that sees you reaching for the sickbag at once.
A: Fittingly, Germany were blind to the fact that they had another stinker on their hands with this. Colouring book pop that not even the stabbing, swirling strings can save.
V: This made sense in the national final, but when it hit the European stage its shortcomings were only too obvious. The backing vocalists are super annoying, and not very good; Corinna herself is strong. She’s also enormous, so I’m not sure the Gestapo overcoat was a good idea.

19 Turkey
B: It’s lucky the poor sod she’s pleading with is a fan of lilacs rather than, say, market gardening – a title like ‘Carrots Decomposed in Your Heart’ (Havuçlar bozdu kalbinde?) wouldn’t have been good for much. “Mutsuzum, suskunum, durgunum / Yorgunum sensiz ben” was the favourite couplet of everyone in the OB van: they sang along to it every time. Which is to say twice.
A: Only the second entry out of basically 20 with some true national flavour. At first I railed against its lack of identifiable structure, but I’ve since come to love it. (Well, alright, I always loved it.) The opening pan across the woodwind and acoustics is magical. And then we get some strings. Turkish scene-setting is rarely this accomplished.
V: Buket tries hard to look like she’s having fun, but her voice tells us otherwise. The sound mix is awful. Hilariously crap choreography, and the bits in English are even more stilted here than they are in the studio version.

20 Malta
B: These lyrics – while teetering on the edge of a sugary chasm – work well enough. Bit heavy on the 7s maybe.
A: This sure makes the most of its three minutes, and then some.
V: Another Maltese entry I’d written off before the final, to my shame. Ira’s voice and demeanour suit it perfectly. And her pants are fabulous.

Claim to fame #3 – I recommended to director Marius Bratten that the camera pull in tight on Ira so as not to spoil the surprise of the glitter thing. They never quite managed it, but still.

21 Romania
B: As an opening line, “We’re behaving like two strangers in the gloomy night” makes it sound like this is going to be an ode to cruising. And not on the high seas.
A: Unbendingly old-fashioned, but the tarting up they gave it makes it work. The guitar almost sounds like it’s being played by someone in the same room as you, and by the end the whole thing’s making perfect sense.

V: Second vocal powerhouse. And scratch what I said about Switzerland: this is my favourite backdrop. It’s more or less the same colour scheme, so no surprise there.

22 Slovenia
B: It’s easy to smile at lines like “Ko me gledaš, vidiš to kar si” given the mirror you’re looking into, but there’s no disguising the fact that this is as solid and positive an anthem as any Eurovision has given us.
A: This was my ex’s very man’s-man dad’s favourite, and who can blame him: it’s an overlooked, oh so slick little triumph – visually, musically and lyrically.
V: Poor sound mix again, alas. The vocal effects are a great touch, as is the choreography, and the outfits. They’re like a really bad drag act that’s entertaining for all the right reasons. No, they are a really bad drag act who are entertaining for all the right reasons!

Claim to fame #4 – Guess who it was that suggested Sestre be trailed by ‘so many beautiful women’? ;-)

23 Latvia
B: Load of bollocks, but still an improvement on the original.
A: This is perhaps the worst song ever to have won the contest.
V: That said, the performance is genius.

24 Lithuania
B: Tsk, Mr Stepukonis should have listened to his grandmother: red sky in the morning is the shepherd’s warning. He can hope all he wants that the day will never end, but when it’s marked out by an omen like that, you know there’s going to be tears before bedtime.
A: Bright, breezy and slightly kooky, as so many Lithuanian things are. There were some simple touches given to the final version that lifted it way above the original, which was hardly different but much harder to take. As it stands, it’s 100% inoffensive but still rather superfluous to needs.
V: Knitted tops!


And so to the points…

1 point goes to Finland

2 points go to Denmark

3 points go to Estonia

4 points go to Croatia

5 points go to Slovenia

6 points go to Romania

7 points go to the United Kingdom

8 points go to Turkey

10 points go to France

and finally...

12 points go to...


FYR Macedonia!


The wooden spoon goes to Greece.

2001

A Way Too Much Space Oddity

It struck me before tackling 2001 that it’s quite similar in structure and feel to 2006, with a pretty slow, low-scoring opening slew before things take off in the mid-section and the energy cranks up and up right to the end. It’s also a contest (not continuing the comparison here, mind you) in which what is wrong is clearly wrong and what is right would be hard to get any righter. The V: comments include those I made at the time from being there – and looking back on them now, I must have been on a high from the event, because some of them are inexplicable.

01 The Netherlands
B: It may be a very Dutch way of thinking, but “I never felt so free in the choices of my life” remains my favourite line. Disastrous sepia portrait in the CD booklet.
A: Stunning string intro, followed immediately by a little acoustic masterpiece. Very Beautiful Thing. If anything, the vocals are a little forceful. This strikes me as something juries would have wet themselves over and veritably chucked points at.
V: Abrupt opening. It’s brave to go with such a structured and yet static performance. (Is anyone even watching? I seem to remember not.) Sounds quite flat in places.

02 Iceland
B: He must be singing about his teenage years, the way he pronounces “I was just a joker”.
A: This is super bland – something I never fully realised at the time. Good harmonies though, and the lads’ voices offset each other nicely. It’s well structured, too, in a very pop-school-graduate kind of way. Ironically, it only spreads its wings and takes flight in the last 20 or so seconds.

V: This just doesn’t work in front of the cameras. It’s not helped by some terrible direction, like when they pull out on the line “now I see you closing in”.

03 Bosnia and Herzegovina
B: The lyrics are of course completely depressing (“I da ti u lice kažem ono šta hoću / Ti ne bi brinula”) but also delightful, and somehow arousing.*
A: The minimalist production is spot on, and impossibly rich. I can only assume it too would have fared better under other circumstances.
V: *Something to do with Nino Pršeš effortlessly oozing sex appeal, perhaps. But no one’s taking any notice of this either. I marked it down originally (along with the Netherlands) as “instantly forgettable”. How wrong I was! His voice in the verses is positively magnetic. Diction overload on the English bits.

04 Norway
B: The lines “I’m on my own again / Left all alone, where I belong” seem very harsh. Note that they changed the original lyrics after that – “I wouldn’t change a day when curtains fall” – for the live version, as if those few words alone were taking the theatricality of it all too far.
A: I love the way this and the Dutch entry are superficially so similar and yet so different at the same time. It’s clearly a case of the voice winning it for the song rather than the song standing out, and it’s all a trifle dull.
V: Everything about this guy screams wrongness, except his voice, which screams beautifully. The vocal fireworks deservedly got the audience going, briefly, which led me to believe at the time that it may have the same effect on the voting hordes of Europe. But he’s way scarier than anyone intends.

05 Israel
B: The theme here is 100% Israeli (“Or vakhoshekh nilkhamim aleynu akhshav”)...
A: ...but the production has always struck me as being a bit of a departure for them; I don’t know why, and I’m probably wrong. Quite a successful one in any case, but it could do without the (synth?) horns. The little rumba/samba/whatever break at the end is terrific. I liked this as soon as I heard it, and I still do.
V: Sadly, it was sabotaged on the night by a spectacularly awful performance. The shrill backing vocals are a disaster from the word go; one of them is so far off it’s embarrassing. “Im ko’ev lakh, shtey enaikh dom’ot” – there’s no ‘if’ about it!

06 Russia
B: I love the lines “The slipping serpentine night / Would... / ...smother warning signs / My old mistakes should send her”.
A: Funny how Russia thought this was the obvious thing to follow up the success of Solo with. Completely bonkers. Very David Bowie, from what little I know of his music. I’m constantly surprised at how authentic and accomplished it sounds, although why it shouldn’t I have no idea.
V: Despite Ilya’s weird voice, he’s the first one to actually sound real to me in a way. It’s been such an odd start to the contest to this point: like some warm-up act you’re not expected to take much notice of.

07 Sweden
B: “Wou je mij verslinden / Zonder je te binden?” are my favourite lines, albeit from Liefde is een kaartspel.
A: The first case of obvious plagiarism in 2001, but the only one punished for it. They picked right though, giving Friends a killer hook to work with when backed by the full Swedish production. Having said that, it’s a wonder the DAT copies of this wheel of cheese ever made it past the sniffer dogs it’s so aggressively pungent.

V: The crowd laps this up. I like the look the blonde one gives the backing vocalist who fluffs her lines during the first chorus. Overall it sounds, and looks, rather forced. I hate the way they’re so mechanical at the end about lining everyone up for their bow at the front of the stage as quickly as they can before the cameras cut to something else. I love the fact they don’t manage it.

Addendum: Aren’t the hosts dreadful? I just noticed again. It’s only really in the voting when they come into their own, at long last.

08 Lithuania
B: Clever touches to the lyrics (especially in the Lithuanian interlude, where I love the flow and sound of the line “Aš skaičiuoju keikvieną tavo žingsnį, žingsnį”).
A: Clever touches to the music as well, and Erica has my kind of voice, but I’ll admit the point does become a bit laboured towards the end. Lithuania were premature sending something like this in 2001: it probably would have done better a few years later.
V: This is another very real-sounding performance. It’s completely unpretentious. Why, though, were flares so big in 2001? That’s four pairs I count so far; six if you add the Israeli backing vocalists’, and seven with both Skamp lads.

09 Latvia
B: If poor Arnis has to keep asking the ladies “Why, darling, you don’t come?” he really ought to start looking at his own technique. I love the paredness of the lines “Why do I feel this way? – Dunno, last night was great / But something’s screwin’ me up, I swear to God I will stop”.

A: Talk about odd choices! And yet this seems so completely Latvian that I probably would have been disappointed if they’d chosen anything else. Too much nuttiness though straight after Lithuania, methinks, however much fun it offers... if you’re in the right mood.

V: With this, Russia and Lithuania, what impression do you think the audience got of the mental health of people from the former Soviet Union? At the time I said this performance was ‘excellent’. Was I watching something else?

10 Croatia
B: They didn’t spend long writing the lyrics to this, did they? Yet another hideous snap in the CD booklet: one of many.
A: This is one of those songs I was convinced pre-contest had everything it needed to win. When one of my friends complained that it was too busy, I just couldn’t see it. I kind of get it now, but still adore it. Strangely, the studio version is very poorly edited.
V: Fab ending to both versions though, and Vanna looks stunning. But shouldn’t the fiddler have been a man?

11 Portugal
B: If “...procuro o teu mar / É a tua ilha que eu quero encontrar” is anything to go by, these two must share similar problems to Arnis Mednis.
A: Is this the first example of a song being reworked from uptempo to no-tempo for the contest rather than the other way round? I was dumbfounded to discover they’d done so, and seemingly so late in the day, especially when the original version had much more potential. (A relative term when it comes to Portugal during this era, but still.) I do like it though: the lyrics just flow out, and there’s a sense of easy comfort to it all. Choosing this after being relegated in ’99 with Como tudo começou though... What were they thinking?
V: Lovely performance, but it still feels like the show hasn’t actually started.

12 Ireland
B: “No, I can’t go on.”
A: They have a processed sausage here in Estonia that comes with cheese already shot through it. This song is without doubt its musical equivalent, and surely Ireland’s least respectable entry. It’s a definite contender for the title of worst song in the contest’s history if you ask me.

V: Gary looks like a goofy science teacher. That cuteness is these three minutes’ only redeeming feature.

13 Spain
B: Come on: “todo es mentira” is an understatement. Leather pants? Ha!
A: The first version I heard of this was the longer live version from their national final that had the bass turned up to maximum. I fell for it instantly. Listening to it again now, it’s not nearly as brilliant as I thought it was, but it doesn’t do a lot wrong either for a Spanish entry. Great guitar, needless to say. And it’s a bit of a trendsetter when you think about it.

V: The audience has finally woken up a bit! Stelios Konstantas borrowed these dancers for Cyprus ’03, didn’t he?

Addendum: The trophy gag is pretty much the only thing that works all night for the hosts.

14 France
B: I love the rhyming couplet of “Même si tu dis que je fais partie de toi / ... / Je sais tellement que l’amour a ses lois”. And I can certainly identify with “mon corps... s’enflamme au son de ta voix”.
A: Many people are not as taken with this as others are, but to me it epitomises the best of French Eurovision. The arrangement is stunning, and deceptively simple. I can fully understand why Terry Wogan thought this would at long last return the contest to Paris.
V: She’s not too good at keeping track of the cameras, and it all gets a bit toothy towards the end. I jumped up and down when she’d done belting it out, but nobody else seemed much bothered.

15 Turkey
B: “Kollarım açık beklerken, sevgim yollarda.” Out cottaging, I’ll wager.

A: This is the Disney theme that never was: you can just see the animated princess sashaying across the screen in some epic Persian fairytale to this, with the dishy Sedat as her hirsute prince. It’s really quite lovely, and sad, but completely hopeless and OTT at the same time. Which I’ve always liked. Wonderful ending.
V: Positively archaic, but Sedat looks gorgeous. Tired, but gorgeous.

16 United Kingdom
B: ‘Reaching for eternity’ could be a metaphor for that final note.
A: I love the way all the clubby numbers are clumped at the end, even if I’ve never much liked this: it seems oddly dated, even for 2001. It has an interesting structure though, and Lindsay has the right voice for it... when she hits the notes she’s supposed to. Generally though, the song tries a bit too hard for my liking.
V: No, I don’t think so. Mind you, the chorus sounds pretty good. The last note still gives me palpitations; does her, too, obviously. She got it so devastatingly wrong in the last dress rehearsal that the song finished and almost no one clapped.

17 Slovenia
B: Is that a stunt double in Nuša’s photoshoot for the CD booklet? It looks nothing like her. “My whole life is one big fantasy” indeed.
A: This is so expletingly good. Absolute trash, but pulled off with such bombastic aplomb that you’d swear it was a musical masterpiece. (It got easily the best video of the year, too. Exploding pianos!)
V: Strange outfit. But we have a performance! The direction and lighting are working in unison with the music at last, and she’s about the only one you see smile, too.

18 Poland
B: Great lyrics. I love the realism of the lines “I would never want to be with someone like me / But maybe one more night could make us feel alright / What difference does it make?” and “I know the honesty within is nothing when you’re cryin’”.
A: The aforementioned second big (undiscovered) rip-off of the contest if you ask me. They had the right idea with this as a comeback; not quite as right as Slovenia perhaps, but certainly much more than Portugal. Bit modest when you look at it, however.
V: There’s an overwhelming sense of the song going nowhere here – “How long is too long” indeed – but Piasek is rather shaggable, and the black-clad backing vocalists are a terrific touch.

19 Germany
B: What does “Sometimes love’s a glant / A warm but brave romant” mean? Is -ce pronounced -t in German?
A: I thought her voice was a joke at first. I can’t be the only one who finds it almost insurmountably odd. Granted, she has a pretty strong song behind her, featuring some lovely orchestration and great guitar, but it still makes me frown in bemusement. The shorter live version has always come across to me as a bit denuded, so at least they retained that tremendous signposting of the final chorus in studio.

V: Michelle looks great. I love the regal wave at the beginning. Where are the backing vocalists hidden?

20 Estonia
B: “I guess this is party time!”
A: My first ever Eurolaul was won by what was to me the only possible song that could have. I should have trusted my instincts come the actual contest. By then the initial feel-good thrill had dissipated and I’d decided it had little hope of faring well at all. I must have paid too much heed to the majority of fans, who dismissed it out of hand; it clearly had something Europe liked. It’s no work of musical genius, as composer Ivar Must himself has admitted, but it’s nowhere near the disaster most people paint it as. It strikes me as strange that people chuck this in the same basket as I Wanna for unworthy winners when they’ve got next to nothing in common.
V: See, they engage the audience at home and in the hall: winning combo. Easily the most upbeat and accessible thing on offer. I suppose this was half a win for the Netherlands, too. Or at least Aruba.

21 Malta
B: “I’m sure you understand all this is magic” might be overstating it a bit.
A: In retrospect, that’s twice Fabrizio has had his knobs fiddled with and ended up with a final version that’s not as good as the original. This remains streaks ahead of I Do, all the same. It doesn’t try very hard, but what it does come up with is decent enough. Terribly Maltese, if that’s a good thing.
V: God, what a sight! The girls’ outfits are bizarre. The vocals are pretty good though.

22 Greece
B: Nice rhythm to the lyrics, in both languages.
A: It’s very hard to achieve any distance with this, the most enduring of the 2001 entries. Oh, what the hell: it’s brilliant. Greek and European!

V: And it should have won. Helena is very Eva Longoria here, albeit Eva Longoria after a bout of some mystery illness.

23 Denmark
B: The way this flows in English is much more appropriate to the song than the smash-and-grab word-fest of the Danish version.
A: This is arguably the best of what the Danes do, er, best, and I wouldn’t have been at all disappointed to see it bring them back-to-back victories. It’s just so perfectly pitched, for Western Europe at least. There’s so much going on in the arrangement when you listen to it.
V: Actually, this should have won. I love the “yeah!” bit near the end. Finally it feels like a proper contest – between about half a dozen songs.

And so to the points…

1 point goes to Estonia

2 points go to Germany

3 points go to Croatia

4 points go to the Netherlands

5 points go to Bosnia and Herzegovina

6 points go to Russia

7 points go to Denmark

8 points go to France

10 points go to Greece

and finally...

12 points go to...


Slovenia!


Needless to say the wooden spoon goes to Ireland.