May Countdown to Copenhagen: memories of Düsseldorf 2011

2014 Semi-final #1 musings to follow later....

As for 2011, well we're talking about a special, special year, as I was actually in the arena in 2011; it’s one thing to watch it – and what a joyful thing that is - but being at Eurovision itself is a whole other extraordinary experience indeed.  The main difference, for me, was getting even more immersed in the whole shebang – even a big city like Düsseldorf gets taken over to a degree by the Eurofans, and being there meant increased exposure to all the musical offerings, which in turn meant we get to know the actual entries far better than the one-shot TV show can ever offer – almost like it’s a song contest.  We also got to high-five each of the performers as they came off stage, so HELLO.

The other brilliant bit is the Euroclub, a dedicated Eurovision party temporarily set in up town, where up-tempo Eurovision numbers from years past are played in a loop, and every Eurogay lipsyncs every word.  In Düsseldorf, there was even an amateur* Israeli dance troop on stage, with dance routines (like, *the* dance routines, like, from *the* shows) prepared for every single tune - they had even delegated which one of them got to take the lead vocals for each particular song, so everyone got a go at the emotional air microphone.  

*I say ‘amateur’ in that they probably weren’t being paid to be there – but they were truly professional.  It was joyous, and not just because I’d had mucho vodka.

In fact, the whole thing was so exhilarating that I barely noticed the winners, Azerbaijan’s Running Scared.  I accept it wasn’t a vintage year song-wise, but I was still surprised that Europe was so taken with this blandathon.  Maybe it’s because it included a firework golden shower.  Probably Europe loves a gold shower.  I mean, there’s no way the juries tried to fix it because Azerbaijan were one of the few countries who could still afford to host the thing in 2012... 

Tell you who the jury didn’t like – and that was the UK’s entry, Blue.  Although their performance in the stadium was a teeny bit ropey, it wasn’t atrocious, and the public phone vote would have placed them a happy fifth place (see, Europe doesn’t hate us!).  The jury however (who judge things a day or so earlier, during the rehearsal show) stuck poor Blue in 22^nd place – leaving them in 11^th overall.  I Can remains a GREAT pop song, even if police cell wee-er Lee Ryan was involved.

But, really, 2011 should be remembered for two things and two things only: Jedward.  Turns out Louis Walsh really does know what crappy old cheesetosh will get the cash registers ringing.  I thought Europe would be far too confused by John and Edward "Together We Are Jedward", but it actually decided it quite liked the bonkers duo and the catchy Lipstick.  The whole thing was a delicious car crash – amazingly they made their way through their three minutes without breaking anything, managing most of the dance poses, singing sufficiently quietly into their microphones that the backers took on most of the tune and getting their hair quiffs to stay erect throughout.

A quick note on my favourite Eurovision nations before I go – I was most disappointed by the Greeks’ dirgy Watch My Dance (probably they had checked the piggy bank and were pulling a Father Ted) and Ukraine’s Angel (which focused less on heavy bass, mini-skirted MILFs and hamster wheels, and more on sand painting – impressive SURE, but also: zzzzzzz).  But Sweden were back on excellent track with Eric Saade’s Popular and quality rhymes like: “Stop, don't say that it's impossible / Cause I know it's possible”.

GOOD TIMES.

May Countdown to Copenhagen: memories of Oslo 2010

Glory for the Big Four, as Germany stormed a win with Lena’s bonkersly brilliant Satellite.  Turns out that the West can absolutely win the Eurovision Song Contest when it bothers to churn out a genuinely good pop song and a, let's call it, 'striking' performance - low key botch job can work a treat sometimes.  I’ve already blogged about my Lena lurve - she just looks like a right laugh.  If ever she's up for bier and currywurst, I am IN.

Meanwhile, the UK totally failed to learn anything from Suga-Lloyd-Webber ‘success’ (it’s all relative and a Top 5 is no mean feat these days), for this year we came last.  LAST! -  we even came below Spain doing, well, Lord only knows what that 'Juan' was about.  (It was even subject to a stage invasion, but was so strange no-one could really tell if that was part of it or not.)  The UK's plan was to try and recreate the Stock, Aitken and Waterman glory days, only a decade later.  Key words there - A DECADE LATER.  Josh Dubovie (who? Well, exactly) did his best, but turns out Europe doesn’t go for popstars who look like prefects, singing rejected Rick Astley b-sides.

Elsewhere, Romania got some excellent double piano action in (they’re back for Copenhagen with a circular piano, no less); Serbia got some excellent bowl cut action in (worth a watch for a great camp jump-yelp), and Greece got some excellent 'white-clad men singing OPA! with a Game Boy backing track' action in.  Not that you'd expect anything less from Greece - if they're not presenting a mini-diva in a teeny dress, it's, ahem, older men in white rousing the crowd.  And Giorgos ‘Keifer Sutherland’ Alkaios and his Friends did a sterling job – why let a receding hairline and beer belly get in the way of rocking a tight deep cut V?

GOOD TIMES!

May Countdown to Copenhagen: memories of Moscow 2009

OK peeps, prepare to have “I’m in looooooooooooove with a fairytaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaale” in your heads for the next hundred years, as that’s just a factual inevitability of talking about Alexander Rybak’s record-breaking win.  Who’d’ve thunk a violin riff would be so potent?  It probably helped that Europe's ovaries found Alex and his waistcoat somewhat dashing.

As for us, well it was time to bring out the big guns – Andrew Lloyd Webber himself mounted the charge, touring Europe, getting Putin himself on board, then sitting at a piano plinky plonking whilst Sugababe-to-be Jade Ewen wafted about a smoke filled floor, power-ballading her way through a song called It’s My Time – well most of the notes, anyway.  It was like the eighties had never gone away and Europe loved it – a solid fifth place. 

It was actually ballad overload this year – far, far, far too much big lung-warbling.  However, in amongst all the yodelling and emoting, was an absolute diamond of a ballad: Is It True by Iceland’s Yohanna.  I just unashamedly love it, in all its Disneyfied glory.  Whether I’d have given it my douze points is another matter though, as 2009 threw up what might be my favourite Eurocrazy performance to date.  Ladies and gentleman, I present to you, the Anti-Crisis Girl - Ukraine’s Svetlana Loboda with Be My Valentine.  I’ve already detailed here why I love it.  It’s the one I always turn to when I’m trying to convince someone who Eurovision can be simultaneously terrible and amazing.  By which I mostly mean AMAZING, obvs.

It would be shame to leave without a quick spin via Turkey’s Dum Tek Tek - belly dancing doesn’t play as prominent a role at Eurovision as one might expect – and a respectful mention of Greek ‘Adonis’ Sakis Rouvas, an experienced Eurovisioner who can wear white like nobody’s business and found the time to incorporate a giant stapler into his routine.  I mean, that is special, special stuff.

GOOD TIMES!

May Countdown to Copenhagen: memories of Belgrade 2008

From dirgy overblown ballad winner to dirgy overblown ballad – but with added Soviet ice dance!  Dima Bilan donned his tightiest-y whitest-ies and unbuttoned an extra button for Russia to finally achieve the big win they’d been long bribing the judges gunning for.  Time for total mullet domination, big time homoeroticism and the world’s most depressing game of shag, marry, kill.  

Mind you, those familiar with Olympic multi-gold medallist Evgeni Plushenko (the power of his skate only rivalled by the size of his nose and ego) will find this Eurovision performance a bit of a disappointment compared to what he gets up to in his day job.  I mean hello and hello.  And HELLO.  

Meanwhile, the UK put the Uniform Dating dress-up box aside and opted instead for disco binman Andy Abraham – who consequently bombed to a very harsh 25th place.  Even If might not be a stone cold classic, but it’s quite some way from the worst song in the world - and is certainly a catchier number than winner Believe.

Fortunately, there were plenty of other highlights in Belgrade – Latvian pirates, a Bosnian bridal convention, Ukrainian Shady Lady pop brilliance (ANI WOZ ROBBED) and France and Spain competing in I-don’t-care-about-the-kray-kray. 

Of course my personal highpoint was when I bitched to a roomful of Eurovision party-goers that I disapproved of the Georgian singer’s blatant pretension – I mean what kind of twat wears sunglasses indoors?  I was quietly informed that she was, in fact, blind.

GOOD TIMES.

May Countdown to Copenhagen: memories of Helsinki 2007

Helsinki 2007

Here’s Wikipedia’s take on Serbia’s 2007 winner: "Moltiva was the first time a ballad has won since televoting became the standard.  The song is notable for its stage presentation because it lacked dance routines, revealing or showy costumes, pyrotechnics and other gimmicks. The Eurovision Song Contest is often accused of concentrating on these things instead of the music itself."

Marija throws her glasses off as the modulation kicks in

Or, to put it another way, YAWN YAWN YAWN YAWN YAWN.  Because the main problem with Serbia’s Moltiva wasn’t the Balkan balladness or the lack of bizarre showmanship – it was that it was a bit of a boring dirge.  Music wasn’t the winner here!  (Perish the thought.)  Don’t get me wrong, there’s still some joy to be had at Marija Šerifović’s super caj, Bieber-haired, lesbian-at-a-wedding, bespectacled get up (Heels? My trainers will be fine, thank you Euro judges).  And I did enjoy her terrifying army of imperial sash and suited fembots - with their apparent penchant for curling tongs and stroking (Wikipedia might not think there’s a gimmick at play here, but this performance is how I imagine the show Touch The Truck, only in musical form).  

From what Wikipedia’s implying, in Serbia, Moltiva has a similar status to Candle In The Wind over here – it gets wheeled out at ‘important’ emotionally charged moments.  More fabulously though, Wikipedia has let me know that “the UK oompah band Oompah Brass recorded an instrumental version of "Molitva" on their album Oompocalypse Now, which they premiered at the 2007 Belgrade Beer Festival.”  I can’t find it (*sobs*), but here’s an excellent rendition of Nine To Five.

Would you like something to suck on for landing, sir?

Anyway, if Europe was a bit gimmicked-out, the UK chose the wrong year to throw up a reformed bubblegum pop group dressed as air hostesses, oozing out fake tan, non-stop camp and innuendo.  Personally, I loved Scooch’s Flying The Flag - it made me chuckle heartily.  Although I accept that such dependence on auto-tune might not have translated too well to a large stage.  Or a TV audience of 100 million Europeans, with limited understanding of English language puns.  

It came 22^nd with a measly 19 points, although Malta gave it twelve points.   The really interesting story though, is that Morrissey could have represented the UK in Helsinki – JUST IMAGINE.  The rumours on that one veer from him refusing to take part in the televoting selection show to him simply not having been approached in time to write something.  (Amazingly the rumours don’t include him saying the whole story is total rubbish.)  I love Mozz and mourn the sad loss of what would have been an amazing opportunity for us all.

We can only speculate as to whether Morrissey would have rivalled winner Marija (durrr, YES).  Instead, Serbia's main threat was a high NRG earworm from Eurovij experts Ukraine.  This one, well, again, it speaks for itself.  It’s elderly bacofoil drag queen time, with a song quite blatantly telling Russia to piss off, all to the sound of heart-attack inducing BPM.  Singer Verka Serduchka doesn’t quite have the breath to get through the dancing, but she does make it to the key change.  It went down a treat in the hall and Europe love it too – just 33 points away from the win.  Russia came third and promptly annexed Crimea.   (Well, I say 'promptly'...)

GOOD TIMES!

May Countdown to Copenhagen: memories of Athens 2006

HARD (pause) ROCK (pause) HALLELUJAH.

HARD (pause) ROCK (pause) HALLELUJAH.

Sure the monstery masks were gimmick gold, but we all know you don't win Eurovision on costumes alone – this was some catchy RAWK.  

Oh Lordi!

Yes, the day of Rockening hit Athens in 2006 and Europe fell hard for the Arockalypse – cue glory for Lordi and the first heavy metal winner.  But underneath the amped up guitar action, Hardrock Hallelujah ticked many tried and tested Eurovij boxes: fire on stage (coming from their guitars, no less), hints of patriotism (a jauntily perched Finnish top hat atop the prosthetics), Scandi-lously high platform boots (that made Agnetha's look sensible), a slightly obscured backing singer who was probably doing most of the voice work (she still got her monster on though) and a major costume change during the middle eight, as Mr Lordi's wings extended before us all. And who needs key changes when you have AN AXE FOR A MIC STAND!

I'd say it put the UK entry to shame, but, to be blunt, the UK entry - Teenage Life by Daz Simpson - put itself to shame.  A middle aged painter and decorator 'rapping' amongst school 'girls' played by women some way off school age, caked in levels of foundation that TOWIE girls would baulk at. The song's philosophy was that teachers were sooooo old they didn't know how to have any fun (those with teacher friends will raise an eyebrow at that one) and that there was no point in school, because it taught you nothing, so you should just be nice to children and that would end crime.  Daz put himself on a pedestal as the proof of such a life's success – having failed to obtain A Grades, he was now “driving fast cars” and was “five stars”.  I'm not au fait with the charts these days, but I have a sense that critical acclaim and record contract domination wasn't entirely forthcoming. 

No, if you're going to do BAD, you follow Icelandic Silvia Night's lead and commit to a level so WTFesque that one can only conclude it is nothing short of MAGNIFICENCE. 

There's too much to describe really - the best plan is to just watch, but I will make a special mention of Silvia's phone call to God though: "What's up dog? It's me, Silvia, Your favourite person in the world."  And when she unexpectedly takes a "golden shower".  And when she slides down a giant shoe.  And when she is stripped of her clothes whilst faux-orgasming. And when her backing dancers do the hand-to-ankle-hand-to-ear move in Bermuda shorts and fringing. And when she makes said dancers crawl on the floor in gimp wrestling masks.  And when... SERIOUSLY, ALL OF THIS STUFF ACTUALLY HAPPENS! 

Frankly though, the most WTF thing of the lot is that she failed to reach the finals and was roundly booed off stage.

Truth is, Silvia Night is a fictional, satirical creation played by an Icelandic actress, designed to showcase all that is awful about the awful. She kept in character throughout EV week, swearing and insulting her way through the rehearsals and interviews - publicly calling Swedish Eurovij stalwart Carola "an ugly old bitch" and calling the production team "fucking retards" during rehearsals.  You'd think that might have ruffled a few feathers in and of itself, but, perhaps even more incredibly, the journos thought she said "fucking Greeks" and went on a tabloid takedown frenzy - hence the boos from the home crowd. (Cause it's not cool to take a pop at the mentally unwell, but it's UNACCEPTABLE to criticise the Greek worth ethic - I mean, ask Angela Merkel.)

One last special mention to Cyprus - well maybe, anyway. I do not remember the song AT ALL, but I do remember my friend Anj serenading me on a very packed tube train with a Cypriot song - it *might* be this one. His performance included pelvic thrusting around the tube poles, getting down on one knee, pretending to face the wind machine, and - of course - a key change. 

GOOD TIMES!

May Countdown to Copenhagen: memories of Kiev 2005

2005 and the Eurogays flocked to Kiev, to worship at the leather-clad altar of Ruslana's whip collection, following her glorious 2004 triumph. What's Ruslana up to these days? Well, apparently she's the Kylie of the Ukrainian Voice and has released a song called This Is Euphoria - which seems a *bit* of a finger up to Loreen, but Wikipedia, with a flagrant disregard for conventional spelling, tells me that “the music video differs from all the previous clips of Ruslana as she attempts to raise awareness about the social problems of Ukraine, especially the lawlessness. Ruslana is thrown into jail on political reasons but she doesn't give up and fights until she brakes out [yes 'brakes'] thanks to her state of euphoria”.  So maybe it's not quite the same vibe as Loreen's silk pyjamas, Winkleman fringe and crab scuttle dance move to Eurotrance brilliantness.  

ANYWAY, Europe clearly hadn't quite had enough of sexy-strong ladies leading the dance-pop charge with attitude, messy hair tossing and tiny skirts, so we crowned Greece's Helena (Elena?) Paparizou as our Number One, leaving Eurovision stalwart and Maltese funky chunky Chiara to be the number two.  But My Number One  was a deserved winner - it's a TOTAL corker.  Much like Ukraine's 2004 win heralded optimistic claims of EU membership, Greece's 2005 victory promised the revival of the Greek economy and tourist industry.  

Hmmmm.

Helena wasn't the only pop diva clad in silk hankies gyrating to ethno-pop, as we decided to put future husband borrower Javine out front for the UK, where she duly requested that Europe “Touch My Fire”.  Sadly, Europe was all like, nah, s'alright thanks.  (Personally, I thought it was a catchy little affair, which should have done better than 22nd - OUCH).  Perhaps Javine should have stuck to single men, I mean, a less substantial dress for her performance, like she did in the UK selection show – nip slip ahoy.  If it's good enough for Janet Jackson... (But let's not linger too much on the slut shaming, and remember that MC Harvey was the real shitshovel in all this.)

Another 'highlight' to note: the now-established tradition of Moldova Crazy Watch.  In 2005, they went for: a mulleted lead singer in a Native Indian kilt, an Adidas-clad drug dealer on the panpies, Mike Flowers on the drums and, of course, a drum-banging granny - years before the Russians multiplied that gimmick by six.  Good old Moldova - so much visual crazy that no-one noticed the lyrics suggesting she's a suicide bomber.

GOOD TIMES.