Are you excited? I can tell you’re excited. I’m excited… or maybe that’s just the two cups of stronger-than-death coffee I had this afternoon. YES, it’s Eurovision time. Again. Whoopee.
As ever, I am not watching this live, because the only way to get through this experience without slamming my head repeatedly into a lamppost is to reserve the right to resort to the fast-forward button. Also, I didn’t watch the semi-finals because there’s enough suffering in the world already. And finally, while I know this might be considered foolhardy, I am watching this stone-cold sober, although I do have paracetamol on hand and it’s a clear run from where I’m sitting to the bathroom.
While I am not watching this live, though, I have managed to remain completely spoiler-free. I mean, it’s safe to say that there’ll be glitter, fireworks, off-pitch screlting, and an almost transcendent absence of taste, but apart from that I’m in the dark. I haven’t even heard this year’s UK entry all the way through yet. It’s going to be a lovely surprise.
ANYway. So. We’re in Stockholm, because Sweden won last year. I have no memory of anything about last year’s winning entry, beyond that the staging involved the (bland) singer interacting with animated stick figures.The techno-ish music behind the opening procession of flags is loud enough that it almost drowns out Graham Norton. Boo. No actual flags this year – just projections onto a rear screen and a lot of people wearing bizarre paper costumes, accompanied by the kind of light show that makes a nuclear detonation look subtle and restrained.
Actually, the paper costumes are sort of fabulous, in a they-must-have-been-stoned-when-they-thought-of-this kind of way. Also, many, many nude bodysuits. It’s going to be that kind of evening.
And now it’s time to meet the hosts: last year’s winner, Mans Zelmerlow, who I still don’t remember even though I’m looking at him RIGHT NOW, and the faaaaaaaabulous Petra Mede, whose Swedish Smorgasbord interval number the last time Eurovision was hosted in Sweden is the best thing this show has seen since… well, since 1974. And we all know what happened at Eurovision in 1974, don’t we? They’re funny and charming, and you have to have watched a few of these to know how remarkable that is in this context.
Mr. Norton is explaining this year’s new voting process, which is quite complicated. I’d listen, but I don’t actually give a flying crap about the voting – except that the new formula apparently means it’s unlikely anyone will end up with nul points, which is a shame.
As usual, the contest kicks off with the presenters saying “May the best song win!” What the hell, there’s always a first time.
(I mean, since 1974.)
The theme this year is ‘come together’. Does everyone have tissues ready? Good. Let’s begin.
1. Belgium. Laura Tesoro, ‘What’s the Pressure’ (with no question mark. Three lyricists, but no question mark).
It starts off with an intro that sounds like a blatant rip-off of ‘Another One Bites The Dust’, and morphs into a slab of aimiably upbeat, slightly old-fashioned pop. I’ve no idea what the lyrics are about, but she’s clearly having a great time, and so are her backing singers. And it looks like silver hot pants are back this year, which is lovely. Good but not great voice, good but not great song, fun performance. She’s very young and very enthusiastic, and this isn’t bombastic enough to win.
2. The Czech Republic, in the Grand Final for the first time ever. Gabriela Guncikova, ‘I Stand’.
Mournful piano ballad, and she’s singing about the monsters in her head as the stage lights up in fuchsia pink underneath her. It’s terribly melodramatic and meaningful – or it might be meaningful if the sound system wasn’t obliterating half the lyrics – and she’s got a great voice. The song, though, is tedious Euro-sludge.
Oh. Now she’s shreiking and they’ve turned on the wind machine. Apparently nobody has ever won performing in the second slot in the running order. This isn’t going to change that statistic.
3. The Netherlands. Douwe Bob, ‘Slow Down’.
Gosh. They’re singing on a giant clock. I can’t imagine what this song is about, can you? Douwe Bob apparently never mastered the fine art of singing with your eyes open, and he has a very large tattoo of something at the base of his neck, with his shirt buttoned up just far enough that we can’t see what it is. The song is pleasant enough hipsterish country-and-western, the band’s grins are all slightly unnatural… and in the middle he stops for ten whole seconds and mouths ‘I love you’ – or maybe ‘please die soon’ – at the camera, which is quite creepy. He’s so confident of his chances, we’re told, that he’s placed a large-ish bet that he’ll win. Say bye-bye to your money, Bob, this is not your year.
4. Azerbaijan (don’t mention human rights). Samra, ‘Miracle’.
Lyrics about burning fire, sequinned nude jump suit, and apparently it’s going to take a miracle for her country’s regime to stop imprisoning people without trial. She can sing, and this is pleasant, inoffensive, unmemorable pop, and I suppose she isn’t responsible for the fact that her country is run by some truly awful people. There are fireworks, of course – if you don’t vote for her, her dancers will come round and barbecue your goolies.
5. Hungary. Freddie, ‘Pioneer’.
Freddie seems to have sandpapered his vocal cords daily since about 1997. He has a Tibetan monk onstage with him, and three Gap-clad male backing singers. Once again, you can’t hear the lyrics at all, although the title suggests he’s singing in English. It’s bonkers, but not bonkers enough. Fast-forward time.
6. Italy. Francesca Michielin, ‘No Degree of Separation’
She’s very pretty, and has a very pretty voice… and the staging has her standing on an island in the middle of a (projected) pool, making lots of overwrought hand gestures as if she was delivering the keynote at a political rally. She’s singing in Italian, despite the title, so I’ve no idea what she’s singing about; given the pool and the big projected tree behind her, it possibly has something to do with nature, or possibly the director was on painkillers. Lots and lots and lots of painkillers.
7. Israel. Hovi Star, ‘Made of Stars’.
Mr. Star looks like the love child of Marc Almond and Alan Cumming. It’s another Terribly Meaningful piano ballad, and two acrobats are circling the stage in a spinning hoop behind him. There’s a full-on power ballad climax worthy of Céline Dion, except he doesn’t have Céline’s voice. It’s all very sincere, and he does hit all the notes dead on, but the song itself, even by Eurovision standards, is Not Very Good.
8. Bulgaria. Poli Genova, ‘If Love Was A Crime’. This performance, we are told, contains flashing images and strobe effects. You have been warned.
She’s wearing all the eye makeup in Bulgaria, plus polystyrene earrings, and it’s another slab of European dance pop – rather a good one, actually. Fun, catchy, completely disposable, and it says a great deal for Ms. Genova that she holds your attention against the ridiculous lighting effects.
Oh. Her shoulder-pads and knees light up on the final chorus.
9. Sweden, our hosts. Frans, ‘If I Were Sorry’.
Also known as the please-don’t-make-us-pay-for-this-next-year entry. He’s bland, his song is bland, his outfit is bland, his voice is lousy, and he has slightly less charisma than a plate of meatballs in the cafeteria at IKEA. I lasted forty seconds. Moving on.
“What can we say?”, asks Petra as the Swedish contestant leaves the stage. How about, “thank Christ that’s over”?
10. Germany. Jamie-Lee, ‘Ghost’.
Jamie-Lee sounds a bit like Bjork, if Bjork didn’t have a personality and actually sang in tune, and she seems to have come dressed as some nightmare cross between Hello Kitty and the contents of a Cath Kidston shop, complete with tinsel deely boppers. Weirdly Tim Burton-esque projections around her, as if they just decided to make the entire performance look as strange as possible because they knew the song wasn’t very good. Sadly, while her performance is completely ridiculous, it lacks the great unifying stupidity of the best Eurovision kitsch-fests.
11. France. Amir, J’ai Cherché
Standard-issue Francophone chart pop with a ridiculously catchy hook in the chorus. He grins a lot, the light show is completely loopy, and he’s obviously having the time of his life. It’s fun – for once, for the right reasons.
He’s a dentist, apparently. That might be why he grins a lot. He can use this as an ad clip if his pop career goes down the dumper next week.
12. Poland. Michal Szpak, ‘Color Of Your Life’.
Sorry, anyone using the American spelling of ‘colour’ in Eurovision, in which the US does not participate, should automatically receive nul points and be sent to bed without dessert. His song is very, very anguished, his red tailcoat has more charisma than he does, and Bernadette Peters would like her hair back. Moving swifly on.
Don’t worry, says Petra. We still have fourteen songs to go. Yay.
Mans is in the stadium next door with two past Swedish winners and 10,000 tanked-up fans. Past Swedish Winner #2, Loreen (not Soreen, Loreen), is dressed entirely in black, as if she’s attending a drunken wake for music… which she more or less is.
13. Australia… which is not in Europe. Dami Im, ‘Sound of Silence’. No, not THAT Sound of Silence.
There are no sequins left in Australia, they’re all on Ms. Im’s dress. She has a hell of a voice, it’s a great big thumping power ballad, and for some reason known only to her and her director she’s sitting four feet above the stage on a big glittery black box. Her song isn’t bad, but it’s not as interesting as her bionic glitter hand. The light show is insane, and probably visible from space.
14. Cyprus. Alter Ego, ‘Minus One’. Again, a (redundant) warning about strobe lights.
Killers-esque stadium rock, with everyone except the lead singer locked up in cages. It’s catchy, although the singer is a bit pitch-approximate, and it’s a welcome relief from the steady stream of power ballads and Eurodisco stompers we’ve heard so far this evening. It’s compentent enough, although the lead singer’s tattoos have more attitude than he does, and it doesn’t have a hope in hell of winning. In the middle of the song he tries howling like a wolf, which is a hell of a lot funnier than he thinks it is. Never mind.
15. Serbia. Zaa Sanja Vucic, ‘Goodbye (Shelter)’
A serious song about domestic abuse and violence, according to Mr. Norton.Stressed-metal voice, black rubber dress with tassels in all kinds of unlikely places, bearded male backing dancer wearing a black skirt and a see-through black T-shirt, and unfortunately the worst song of the evening so far. It isn’t even entertainingly strange. It’s just plain bad. Taxi for Ms. Vucic, please.
16. Lithuania. Donny Montell, ‘I’ve Been Waiting For This Night’. Haven’t we all?
Another song with a drippy verse leading into an overwrought chorus, but it’s not bad, and he can sing. Shame he can’t open his eyes at the same time because he looks constipated, even as he does a somersault off a trampoline in the middle of the song.
17. Croatia. Nina Kraljic, ‘Lighthouse’.
Ms. Kraljic seems to be wearing an architect’s model of the tent-like main terminal at Denver Airport, or perhaps something you’d throw over your car to protect it from bad weather. It’s got helpful grip-handles on each shoulder, hopefully so someone can yank her offstage when her song gets too unbearable, which will be in about fifteen seconds. Oh no, they just removed her top layer of clothing. She’s still there, and now she’s wearing a recycled skyscraper with tassels. Her clothes, unfortunately, are far more interesting than her song or her voice. She seems to have only the most tenuous relationship with whatever note she’s supposed to be singing, and her demeanour rather strongly suggests that she isn’t entirely convinced by her own act. The only way to get away with this kind of full-on batshit-insane Eurovision staging, I’m afraid, is to commit to it completely, and do it with a completely straight face. Adios, Nina, it’s been real.
18. Russia. The favourite, apparently. Sergey Lazarev, ‘You Are The Only One’.
It’d be fun if the gayest international TV event on the planet took place in Russia next year, wouldn’t it, given that Mr. Putin has enacted some of the most repressive anti-gay legislation on the books anywhere outside of Uganda. Like last year’s winner, Mr. Lazarev performs interacting with projected images on a screen. It’s cleverly directed and choreographed, the song is a decent-enough chunk of 6/8 Eurodisco, and the staging in the middle of the song, where he appears to climb up projected images on the screen behind him, is undeniably spectacular, and the best we’ve seen so far, albeit blatantly ripped off from Mans Zelmerlow’s ‘Heroes’ last year. The song isn’t the best we’ve heard so far, but the best song almost never wins. Well, apart from that one time in 1974.
(The wall is apparently set up at a slight angle and covered with rubber, which is how he climbed up it. Now you know.)
19. Spain. Y viva Espana. Barei, ‘Say Yay!’
OK, Barei. Yay.
Barei is wearing a thigh-length chainmail wifebeater, or maybe a minidress, and a lot of bracelets, and we’re back in Eurodisco-land.Better song than the last one, I think, but the staging isn’t anywhere near as inventive. She has a great pop voice, and this is great fun, but this competition – yes, despite the title – isn’t just about the song. The crowd loves it, though.
Petra reminds us that we’re watching Eurovision, and informs us that the CD of this year’s entries is available for us all to take home and treasure forever, along with a Eurovision straitjacket. Your bonus question for this evening: which of this year’s contestants already owns one, but managed to chew through the straps?
20. Latvia. Justs, ‘Heartbeat’.
Justs is apparently intending to open an ‘alternative music school’ at some point in the future, so obviously it’s time to abandon all hope. It starts off sounding like an odd cross between A-ha and mid-80s Depeche Mode. He has a great voice, but the song meanders a bit, and the mean-and-moody posturing seems as calculated as his designer leather jacket and carefully-ripped black drainpipe jeans. He’s certainly throwing himself into it, though, and a team of stagehands have just been sent to scrape his tonsils off the back wall of the arena.
21. Ukraine. Jamala, ‘1944’. No political content there, then.
Sincere, compelling, oddly moving performance of a song that is obviously very deeply personal to her (she wrote it herself). If only the song itself was better. It’s an arresting statement, though, and it does get better when the full orchestra kicks in towards the end. It’s apaprently about Stalin’s deportation of Tartars – including Jamala’s great-grandmother – from the Crimea in 1944. The middle 8 is basically just Jamala keening in 4/4 time. It’s on an entirely different plane to everything else so far, and it gets a surprisingly emotional response from the crowd.
(Eurovision entries are supposed, in theory, to be apolitical, and this one is right on the line. It got by because the lyrics apparently deal exclusively in verifiable historical fact – though of course, given that it’s about Russians driving Ukrainians out of Crimea, it doesn’t take a genius to apply a more contemporary interpretation.)
22. Malta. Ira Losco, ‘Walk on Water’.
She’s pregnant. Aww. First we see her projected face singing out of the stage floor… and that’s the most interesting thing in her performance. Nice sequinned gold dress, nice dancer behind her, nice enough song, nice voice, and nice doesn’t win this competition. Never mind, Ms. Losco, the cruise-ship circuit is beckoning.
23. Georgia. Nika Kocharov and Young Georgian Lolitaz, ‘Midnight Gold’. Contains prolonged strobe lighting effects, we are told, so have a cushion ready if you need to take cover. Duly noted.
Are you ready to RAWK? Of course you aren’t, this is Eurovision. Never mind. One of their guitarists obviously really wants to be in Oasis, or he thinks he’s going to a fancy dress party as Liam Gallagher. The lighting effects amount to a declaration of war, the song isn’t very good, and the feeling that it’s a welcome change of pace from the stream of power ballads and disco anthems we’ve been hearing all night only lasts until about halfway through the first verse.
24. Austria. Zoe, ‘Loin d’ici’
She’s very pretty. Her song is very pretty. Her dress is very pretty.Poppies grow on the screen behind her every time she raises her hands, she seems to be singing from the middle of a projected Yellow Brick Road, it’s surprisingly danceable, and it has a catchy chorus. She has a nice voice, too. It’s absolutely charming, and probably better than whatever is going to win, which won’t be this.
25. Royaume-Uni. Joe and Jake, ‘You’re Not Alone’.
Yes, they look a bit like a cross between Jedward and Ant and Dec. In an evening full of songs with catchy hooks, this is one of the catchiest. It’s a great big endearing slice of guitar-led summer pop, and they sing it really well, although there are better voices in the competition this evening. It’s the best thing we’ve entered in about a decade and a half, and one of the few recent UK entries that doesn’t make you want to hide behind the sofa. Joe and Jake – no I don’t know which is which – give it their all, and it gets a good response from the crowd.
26. The last one. Armenia. Iveta Mukuchyan, ‘Lovewave’.
It starts with her muttering into the microphone, and it’s never a great sign when the wind machine has been switched on before the song begins. She’s wearing a few twist ties and a long black cape, and it’s all very overwrought. We’re on planet rock rather than planet disco, and it’s quite a finale. She has a spectacular voice; it’s a shame the song itself isn’t better.
So that’s it. Surprisingly little OMGWTF this year. Mans and Petra are back to introduce a short bonus scene from ITV’s un-hilarious sitcom ‘Vicious’. I hope Mr. Jacobi and Mr. McKellen got paid a LOT of money for this. Again, we’re told about the new voting system; it’s still a relatively recent innovation that the lines don’t open until after all the acts have performed, which should probably tell you everything you need to know about the integrity of the voting process, which I’ll mostly be fast-forwarding through, because really, do I need to spend an hour and a quarter watching that?
The lines are open. Or were, I’m watching on catchup so I don’t need the 26-song recap of all the acts we’ve seen. Fast-forward time.
And now we have a special guest appearance from that well-known European icon, Justin Timberlake, who is here on the comeback trail chasing the show’s enormous global audience in order to flog his latest
putrid heap of decaying shit new single.He almost sounds sincere when he says he wanted to perform at Eurovision. Almost. It’s particularly wince-inducing watching him condescend to this evening’s contestants – all of whom, even Mr. Boring from Sweden, sing better than he does – about how well they did. There’s just never a giant anvil hanging precariously from a fraying rope when you need one, is there?
And now buckle up,says Petra, because we’re heading back to 1974 to begin a survey of Swedish pop music since the dawn of time. Hello, Abba. And also Bjorn Skifs, Tommy Korberg, Roxette, and Neneh Cherry, with a whole second and a half of ‘Gold Can Turn To Sand’ from ‘Kristina fran Duvemala’ thrown in for good measure.Fun, though it’s a pity Robyn isn’t represented by ‘Konichiwa Bitches’. Sadly, our tour of unforgettable moments in Swedish musical history did not include Petra Mede’s Swedish Smorgasbord. Swiz.
And heeeeere’s Mr. Timberlake, who I’ve been really looking forward to not watching this evening. I gave him a minute, and that’s generous. It’s like a Superbowl half-time show, only crap.
Another recap. Fast-forward time. And now the winner of last year’s Junior Eurovision – Destiny, from Malta. She’s sweet. And the lines are still open to vote… unless you were too chickenshit to watch this three-and-a-half-hour glittergasm live, like I was.
And now Petra and Mans are trying to find a common thread between all the previous winners. Cue a gloriously over-the-top production number ripping to shreds every single common Eurovision performance trope. It’s smart, sly, funny, and Petra and Mans find just the right not-quite-winking-at-the-audience tone. Of course it’s the best thing we’ve seen all evening. It even includes special appearances from Lordi lookalikes, a gaggle of Russian-looking grandmas and a man running in a hamster wheel. It ends with all the fireworks in Sweden, and the audience goes wild.
Unfortunately, Sarah Dawn Finer’s Lynda Woodruff isn’t as funny as she thinks she is. Just like last time. Her appearance is mercifully brief. The magnificently deadpan documentary film – Nerd Nation – about Sweden’s obsession with Eurovision is better (guess what the ‘esc’ key on Swedish computers stands for?), but it goes on a little bit too long, presumably in order to give Mans time to make a costume change and get to the main stage.
45 seconds until the votes close and I can start fast-forwarding a lot. 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, finito. Buh-bye. Just time for a quick number from Mans before we get into the points. He and his dancers are performing on hoverboards. Well, they don’t actually hover, but that’s what the kids seem to call them. I hope someone checked all the batteries. In THIS show, if something exploded, nobody would notice. Mans, of course, is a better singer than Justin Timberlake (really, who isn’t?). His first number segues into a reprise of his winning entry from last year, ‘Heroes’, and this is better than a lot of what we’ve seen this evening, partly because he’s won already so he can just have fun with it.
And we’re into the results. FINALLY. Good evening Europe, hello Stockholm, blah blah blah. The Austrian lady appears to be wearing something by Clarice Cliff. Why?
Petra gets special regards from the Icelandic representative’s dog. Nice. Iceland gives the Netherlands 12 points, because presumably their antidepressants haven’t kicked in yet.
San Marino’s points are announced by a very, very white rapper. I mean whiter than Justin Timberlake. Whiter than John Major. Whiter than fresh snow before a dog pees on it. He’s so white, he could be the ‘after’ in a toothpaste ad. Yikes.
So far each country is only announcing their 12-point awards, and everything else is being added to the points table automatically. They should have done this years ago.
Malta gives us 12 points. Whoopee. At this point, the voting is all over the place, with no clear winner. Fast forward time.
Cyprus gives 12 points to Russia. I’m sure we’re all shocked.
Quick tip to the green room, because we’re milking it this evening. Australia are in the lead at the moment, because Europe. Ukraine in second place, and she sings the chorus of Mans’s winning song from last year back to him, which is rather sweet. She’s nervous, she’s charming. What would it mean for her to win Eurovision? A giant one-finger salute to Russia, but that’s not the answer she gives (“It would mean Europe understands me.”).
Norway’s points are presented by a Bobbysock. Let it swing. Ooh, 1985 flashback.
And I fast-forwarded to the end of the jury points because the tension was just too much to bear. Or something. Australia is first, followed by Ukraine and France. Public vote still to come, as Petra reminds us. Whoop-de-frigging-doo.
OK. Public vote time. The Czech Republic got nul points from the public – deservedly – and we’re second from the bottom. Someone at the BBC is very, very happy – we don’t have to pay to host the show next year, so that’s another kind of win for us. We’re still going to end up near the bottom of the pile. Meanwhile, there’s an enormous gulf between the jury vote and the popular vote, which means the voting process, for once, is a bit interesting – at least if you fast-forwarded through half the last hour. Austria, for example, scored big with the public but not with the juries. Sweden also did inexplicably well in the public vote. That’s bizarre and slightly scary. And Poland got dick-all from the juries and are in the top four with the public. People obviously really loved his long red tailcoat, or maybe his constipated grimacing just scared them. Unlike the way the votes used to get announced, this is actually fun to watch.
Aaaand the winner is… wow. Russia won the public vote, but not the juries, leaving him in third place. Ukraine wins. Yes, UKRAINE. Jamala is heading back to the stage, armed with three light-up bracelets and a Ukrainian flag. I kraine, you kraine, he kraines, we kraine, you kraine, they kraine… we all kraine. She really wants peace and love for everyone, which is nice. For once, something sincere and heartfelt won. It wasn’t the best song, and I don’t need to hear it again, but it’s interesting. This is not the way this contest usually goes.
So… overall, disappointingly subdued – an odd thing to say about an evening whose light show resembles Armageddon with a larger budget and less restraint, but this is Eurovision – and the absence of any novelty acts in national costume performing with strange props is disappointing. Petra and Mans’s interval act was inspired, Sweden put on a terrific show, and the new method of tabling the results led to a surprisingly tense finish. As for the winner, next year should be quite special. I hear spring in Kiev is lovely, and let’s all pray the 2017 Russian entry doesn’t involve tanks.