Well, I’m sure I’m not the only Eurovision fan to think that was a disappointing semi (though fortunately not in the context of getting Boyko the Bulgarian backing dancer back to one’s hotel room and finding him a little drunker than initially feared - as I’m sure some other fans will have experienced).
Just far too many insipid, forgettable ballads and not enough hilariously imaginative staging, crazy costume changes and insane camp dance routines. So boo to all that! Come on Europe, up your game! It’s almost as if you thought it was a song contest?
Well then, as everyone but Boyko would say – on with the show!
Lithuania: At least this rather lovely aging boyband have the right idea. They kick off an uptempo number (yay! For the record, points tonight will be essentially awarded for NOT BEING A BALLAD), using mime to denote instruments (bet there were catfights over who’d get to play the air flute), wearing tight tops and tartan trousers. Hmmm, I wonder what will happen to them by the end of the song? It’s funky, but quite knowing and somehow it’s a little too – and this is not a buzz word you usually hear at Eurovision – professional. *shudders*. Still, we like it enough, and then we LOVE it, as they predictably rip off their trews to reveal tiny sequined silver pants, and get down to some serious bum wiggling.
Armenia: Ballad #1 and already I’m zzzzzzzzzzzzzz. The song is called Apricot Stone, so they’ve put a massive apricot stone on stage – GEDDIT? It’s rubbish – it looks like a big orange pouffe. Meanwhile, an Armenian Angelina Jolie in half dress, half jeans, pouts away, doing that breathy wailing thing, relying on some serious pushed-up bra action for support (ha!). I have to admit, they are (both) quite something – I haven’t seen cleavage definition like that since Eva Herzigova caused traffic chaos throughout middle England soliciting hellos for her boys… And fortunately Angie’s breasts are mostly enough to distract audience members from a terrifying Maradona-alike doing contemporary dance leaps, about to suffer a groin strain.
Israel: Ballad #2 and oh God please make it stop already, noooooooo etc. Attractive man black suit slow song so sad so emotional overacting fists clenched bum clenched blah blah blah there we go strings kick in inevitable loud wailing bit more yelling etc etc etc crowd go nuts I’m off to get pizza. AWFUL.
(P.S. I’m not sure, as I was quite busy shouting ‘END THIS NOW’ at the TV, but the lyrics might have been “something something something Yitzhak Rabin”. To be confirmed.)
Denmark: Well, they’ve cranked up the dry ice machine, which is always promising, but sadly we have to suffer a rock-ballad-love-duet void of any chemistry, despite best efforts to create sexual tension by separating him (eighties man) and her (nineties woman – hellooooo BOTOX) with the use of a) a shadow screen and b) a two-direction conveyor belt. You’d have thought that all that machinery-aided gimmickry would help, but it’s still a shocker and there was so much on-stage clutter that they had actually to run to another part of the stage to get to where they’d plonked the wind machine. Mind you, I quite liked that bit.
Switzerland: I’ll declare an interest here. Not the singing in French, though *obviously* there are always bonus points available for use of native language (point of debate though, should it only count if Switzerland use all three?). No, I’m biased because Swiss singing man was interviewed on the BBC on Tuesday and he was effing hilarious - all coy-camp, totally out-flirting Sarah Cawood and promising to perform covered in gold body paint if he made the final. He didn’t here and the song was an instantly forgettable mid-tempo disco number (in French), but it was at least a 1,000,000% better than what came before.
Sweden: COME ON SWEDEN, YE EUROVISION GODS, HOPES ARE HIGH! OK, female popstrel – check. Blonde – check. Pretty – check. Singing about ‘my life’ – CHECK! Hang on, what’s that? An acoustic guitar? She’s playing… a guitar… Huh? What? Where are the lamé-clad backing dancers and the techno beat? Does. Not. Compute... It’s quite nice, really, and – surprising from a Swede - we get to play mock-the-foreigner, when she sings “Strike an i-ron and attack my soul”. Bless.
Azerbaijan: Ballad number… oh I’ve lost count, and the will to live. This is the bookies’ favourite, and Azerbaijan have gone all out to win – getting a well-known Swedish songwriter to pen the thing and Beyoncé choreographer to stage it. That particular contribution seems to have been to put the lady-singer in a hundred inch heels and make her walk down a neon-stepladder. “And that will be a billion dollars please - or your GDP, whichever’s more accessible.” Needless to say, this is shit. I can’t even get excited by her lacy electric blue half-glove. Please, Europe, please don’t let this win. *sobs*.
Ukraine: So traditionally Ukraine are pretty much always my favourites – I don’t need to explain why - their back catalogue is exemplary. I mean, who could forget last year’s use of thigh high boots and lady-drumming? But this… this… this I hated from the very first guitar strum. Now I realise that that may seem a little premature, but I am a woman of principles, and the principle is this: if Ukraine don’t pull out a variation on the theme of leather bikini tops/mini skirts, furry waistcoats/boots, superlative whip choreography and female-led percussion, then it is unutterable garbage. This is no place for an acoustic guitar! Poor Ruslana – what must she be thinking? Her legacy - DESTROYED!!!!!!
Netherlands: in its defence – it’s not a ballad and it was written by Papa Smurf. I think this was supposed to be an homage to old skool Eurovision and Holland’s attempt to recreate the successes of time when being in western Europe didn’t automatically negate Euro-domination. Effort is all well and good, but the sad reality is that fully grown humans pretending to be doll-like automations is always creepy and a Dutch Karren Brady repeatedly singing “sha-la-lie” over a hurdy-gurdy is just very rubbish.
Romania: Now *this* is more like it! There’s a transparent double-piano with LED legs on stage! (Like Dr Doolittle’s push-me-pull-you, only with keyboards rather than llama heads. But of course.) Ooh yes, this is catchy. Gentleman-pianist is pretty non-descript, but who cares, as lady-pianist is a total fox - that is one tight’n’shiny black PVC catsuit. My oh my, she’s going to have to be mighty careful when she peels herself off that piano stool. Oh and there you go! Up they get to dance to the last third of the song – a welcome twist on the Westlife school of getting off your stool after the bridge, to add ‘poignancy’. Any remaining doubters should also note they also have backing dancers with bustles and real life fire on stage. In conclusion, hell yeah – high fives all round! (NB: Ukraine take heed - that’s what I wanted from you, only with more drums, some whips, and a cage.)
Slovenia: This is *weird* - and that’s by Eurovision standards. It’s a mash up of an accordion-based folk number and “Tonight Matthew I’ll be doing ‘Your Love Is Like Bad Medicine’”, in which Jon Bon Jovi serenades a young girl in red poncho over what I can only hope is Slovenian traditional dress. We’re all glad it’s not a ballad, but there’s no two ways about it – it’s awful.
Ireland: Former winner Niamh Kavanagh (class of ‘93) steps up and before she’s even opened her mouth the audience go nuts. They LURVE her – and we do too. In this context, the ballad (specifically the overblown, pan-pipe heavy, dignified Celtic ballad) has its rightful place. Awesome. Big hair, wind machine, modulation – this is how it’s done. Or at least, was, in the nineties. As a T-shirt in the crowd proclaims “Tonight we’re gonna party like it’s 1993.”
Bulgaria: Now I know I’m anti-ballad, but irritatingly, Romania aside, the up tempo numbers aren’t doing much to ease the pain. This performance does employ angel wings, but they didn’t grow out of a dress halfway through the performance, so that’s a waste of time. It’s always nice to see a white leather jacket and a touch-your-toes V jump, but it’s a bad sign when those are the highlights. Sluttiest-dressed dancers of the evening though, so well done for that Bulgaria. No wonder Boyko gets lucky.
Cyprus: What’s that? The Cypriot entry is fronted by a Welsh guy with band members from Scotland and England? Hmmm… *strokes chin*… I smell desperate times and desperate measures – this is clearly a surreptitious attempt at UK victory under the guise of a more palatable country. It has to be - how else can you explain the purpose of Josh ‘Charisma Vacuum’ Dubovie and that JOKE of a song Waterman clearly found at the bottom of old bin bag marked ‘Not even fit for the Reynolds Girls’ (at least Webber took it seriously – he got Putin on board, FFS.)? I’m convinced it’s all an elaborate strategy – à la Father Ted and My Lovely Horse -, divert UK’s support away (err that would be Greece and Ireland then), because no-one would actually be insane enough to vote for the bullcrap we’ve put forward - and help Cyprus win – that way we get the glory and we don’t have to pay for London to host it next year! It’s a rubbish tactic, of course, but I literally can’t see any other explanation for ‘That Sounds Good To Me’.
Croatia: Back to ballads – and what a load of ballads this one is as well. Three ladies this time – former losers Feminem – wailing in not-quite-unison and wearing those tacky dresses that have big trains at the back, but are short at the front; “It’s like classy at the back, but sexy at the front”. No, Feminem, it’s like gross at the back and hideous at the front.
On a completely unrelated note, ‘Apricot Stone’ right is trending on Twitter at this point, which is amazing really, seeing as that song was a) rubbish and b) about twelve performances ago.
Georgia: This was probably one of the better ballads, but that’s a bit like saying I would rather eat live beetles than live spiders. It starts with the leading lady pushing two of her male dancers towards her groin, which is wishful thinking on her part, if you ask me. That’s borne out by the subsequent homoerotic dance routine, where there’s a lot of man-on-man grappling and the men throw each other around the stage – the acrobatics seem pretty good, but, inexplicably, the Norwegian cameras are focused on the attractive Georgian girl. Go figure.
Turkey: Drums! Scratching! Bass! RAWK! It’s all very nu-metal – apart from the page boy looks of the lead singer, but we’ll skirt over that. The band rocks out and somewhere in the background a female Robocop welds (metal), then strips (off her clothes). This will completely win over all 13-15 year old boys, who, combined, make up precisely 0% of the total Eurovision viewing base. But there is something kind of brilliant about that.
And, that, my friends, is that. Thank GOD it’s over. Honestly. I feel drained! Someone get Boyko and me a drink.
So Armenia, Israel, Denmark (WTF), Azerbaijan, Ukraine(?!?!??) and Georgia though (boooooo), as are Romania, Ireland, Cyprus and Turkey (not boo). The Lithuanians and their pants woz robbed – apparently by the Norwegian presenter, who closed the show wearing a pair of sequined boxers himself, which was hilarious, and utterly restated our faith in the Eurovision dream. Dirge aside, I CANNOT WAIT FOR SATURDAY! In a perfect world, Greece, Romania or Iceland would win. As for who will win…. Well. Tough one, but I’m going to call Armenia or Israel, though Belgium might do well. It’s all so exciting!!! xoxo
Additional reporting by Victoria Bryan
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