28 May 2008

Overview: The final

The final was a bit of a mixed bag for me. Generally the performances were good, or at least better than the second semi-final, but the atmosphere was a little... perfunctory. There were no real surprises, underscored of course by the predictable and completely unexciting voting (but more on that later).

To me the opening didn't work as well as it should, with Marija Šerifović coming across flat and somewhat detached from proceedings, possibly there more to bolster her ratings at home than for any other reason. Jovana Janković and Željko Joksimović did a decent enough job as hosts on all three nights, albeit without presenting much personality or anything to set them apart from any of the hosts over the last however many years.

Romania opened the show with a slightly improved performance (from Nico, and dress for that matter) over that in the semi-final, but the highlight of the first quarter of the show for me turned out to be Andy Abraham. At the end of the performance I still knew Even If was going nowhere, but it was the best from the UK in a long time. Meanwhile, Olta Boka was in tune but slightly off-key for the entire song, Germany was a disaster, and Armenia still wasn't any better. Bosnia, thankfully, was, mostly due to better camerawork.

Israel and Finland made a strong opening to the second quarter of the show, which perhaps rivalled the last six or so songs for the title of strongest of the night, with further good performances from Iceland, Turkey and Portugal. Poland was still effective but somewhat stretched, and I was surprised again by how unengaging Croatia was.

Back to back, Latvia and Sweden seemed to be battling one another to see who could come across as more plastic and contrived, but coming after them (and the stronger performances that preceded them) Denmark lost much of the charm that saw it do so well in the context of the semi-final. In this part of the final Ukraine put everything else to shame, with the performance really coming together when it mattered, and if the final had ended there Shady Lady would certainly have been the winner.

Unfortunately for Ani Lorak there were half a dozen or so songs left, and after the truly backfiring French act and the better but still OTT piece of Azeri theatre there came a string of good performances all the way to the end of the final only interrupted by Spain, which was just as bizarre and laboured as Divine and not nearly as funny as it should have been (and probably thought it was).

Buoyed by the more than passable level of most of the performances, I came back down to earth with a crash come the voting, with my sense of the final being somehow distant having been confirmed by the interminable interval act, which just didn't come across well on screen at all. The way the voting unfolded though took the biscuit; I fully expected it to be as skewed as last year's, but not even more obvious and predictable.

What made the voting such bad press for the contest was not necessarily only the 8s, 10s and 12s which anyone with a general knowledge of Eurovision could have guessed (I predicted 35 of the 43 top threes correctly and 40 of the 43 douzes!!), but the less tangible things like Azerbaijan and Armenia not giving each other any points, the UK picking up half of its tiny total of points from the San Marinese jury, and Bulgaria giving Germany 12 points just because one of No Angels has roots in the country.

All of these things combined go to show just how unrepresentative the voting actually is in Eurovision these days. I'm all for letting people vote for who they want to, but democracy for its own sake is not the answer, especially in a contest which still purports to be searching for the best song. I'm not saying Russia didn't deserve to win; that's not the issue. But the voting was so disappointingly dull that it really took the edge off the final for me.

In retrospect though I am happy that despite all this my four favourite songs this year - those from Bosnia & Herzegovina, Turkey, Norway and Israel - ended in the top ten, as musically and in terms of their performances I feel they all deserved to be there, even if at least two of them probably benefitted from the kind of voting that annoys me about the contest these days.

Looking ahead, well... Eurovision Russian-style should be an interesting experience! I'll reserve judgement for the time being, but my experience of Russians and Russian television in particular here in Estonia makes me wonder quite how it will turn out. As things stand I wonder whether I'll have it in me to repeat the blog experience of this year next time round, but I'm sure I'll be bitten by the bug again!

In the meantime I'll add posts every now and again just to keep things up and running. Feel free to comment as you like, and thanks to those who have expressed their appreciation for my efforts over the last couple of months. Hope you enjoyed it!

Overview: Semi-final 2

The second semi-final is something of a blur as I have been trying to erase much of it from my mind. We haven't seen so many poor and/or otherwise cringeworthy performances in one contest in a long time and it left me doing little other than shaking my head and thinking: to a lot of people this is the level Eurovision operates on every year.

The show started well, with performances from Iceland, Sweden, Turkey and Ukraine that generally lived up to expectations. Ani Lorak and Shady Lady came across flatter than I expected, but still oozed class. I was appalled at the hostile reception Albania received from the Serbian audience - ironically made all the worse because the hall was actually full this time - and therefore ecstatic that Olta Boka performed so well.

Things after that took a drastic decline, with little respite during the rapid downhill journey that followed. The Czech Republic was simply dire, but Switzerland wasn't far behind: Paolo Meneguzzi came across very insecurely singing Era Stupendo. Belarus and Latvia were also bad in their way, although at least Wolves Of The Sea provided some spectacle, however moronic. I was also disappointed that Croatia and Bulgaria didn't come across as well I had hoped, but that in turn made Denmark seem very together and a surefire qualifier for the final.

After Georgia singularly failed to impress me (perhaps because I'm such a cynic) I thought Hungary performed well, although stuck with a very dated song, and was not surprised to see it not qualify. Malta was almost as much of an off-key train-wreck as some of the earlier entries that I was relieved to see Evdokia Kadi make something of Femme Fatale, and FYR Macedonia and Portugal rounded off the semi - at long last - with quality performances. Vânia Fernandes was particularly strong.

Overall though I was very underwhelmed by the second semi-final. I managed to predict seven of the ten qualifiers (after scoring 9.5/10 for the first semi!) but was largely unmoved by the fates of most of the songs. Still, the final was shaping up to be a good one, and the two semi system seemed to have proven it could work.

Overview: Semi-final 1

In hindsight, but also as expected, the first semi-final proved to be better performed than the second and more competitive in terms of qualifiers that might trouble the upper reaches of the scoreboard come the final.

The first country to make an impact, and a lasting one, was Israel: The Fire In Your Eyes proved to be class from start to finish, and was one of the few in the semi to benefit from good camerawork and simple staging. Moldova impressed for its lighting and design, as did Belgium's swirling backdrop, which actually made Soetkin's strawberries-and-cream outfit more palatable.
After the messy visuals for Azerbaijan, Slovenia came across well (on my home cinema system anyway) for its sound, while suffering in both departments - not to mention in terms of performance and the worst ad libs in Eurovision in a long time - was Andorra. Gisela made an absolute dog's breakfast of Casanova and you have to wonder whether it would have been possible to make it worse.

Armenia was the biggest surprise of the semi-final for me, for coming across so blandly, almost as if Sirusho really couldn't be bothered to give it her all. Hind performed well for The Netherlands after her, but Your Heart Belongs To Me simply didn't have what it takes to win votes, especially with Finland coming on next and blowing everything away with one of the most together performances of the night. Romania started off nicely until Nico appeared out of the darkness in her mangrove creation and started shouting at Vlad (who could have undone his shirt a couple of extra buttons), and though I was sure it would qualify, both Russia and Greece after it came together a lot better.

In the end I feel the ten best combinations of songs and performances made it through, and it was nice to see Poland finally qualify, albeit in a blaze of fake tan and bleached teeth. The greatest disappointment of the semi for me was the obviously half-empty hall, which also erked me last year in Helsinki. It just looks shoddy and could so easily be avoided. Overall though the first semi-final got my thumbs-up.

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So the Serbians' take on Eurovision is over and Russia's victory has left me feeling rather hollow. Not because Believe won per se, but because the voting was even more predictable and less exciting than ever. More on that though in my retrospectives on the semi-finals and final.

No one seems quite sure where we'll be heading next year, Moscow or St Petersburg, although either way it will be fascinating to see whether and how the Russians overcome themselves to organise the thing. Alla Pugachova and Philip Kirkorov to host, anyone?

18 May 2008

Poll results: The final

A quick round-up of the results of the poll about where you all expect the Big Four and the hosts to be on the scoreboard at the end of the final. They can be divided fairly cleanly in three.

More than 90% of those who voted feel that Serbia's Oro will rekindle the tradition of the hosts ending somewhere in the top 10, with as many as almost 2 out of every 3 voters confident that it will finish somewhere between 1st and 5th. (As you can probably tell from my review below, I don't share that confidence, but there you are.)

At the other end of the scale, more than 75% of all respondents feel that France, Germany and the United Kingdom will be in the bottom 10. Andy Abraham and Even If fare worst, with 76% of voters predicting it will finish somewhere between 21st and last.

Very much in the middle is Spain, whose novelty entry Baila El Chiki Chiki is thought as likely to finish 1st as it is 5th, 15th or 25th by virtually the same number of voters. That said, a slight majority see it finishing in the second column on the scoreboard rather than the first, and for what it's worth I'm one of them, although it wouldn't surprise me if it did better.

Having now reviewed all of the songs I'm going to open one last poll prior to Eurovision week to see who people think, after all, is most likely to win. Rather than including all 43 entries it will be based on the predictions from previous polls about qualifiers from each of the semi-finals and thus include 25 countries, just like the final itself. For the last time this season: get voting!

17 May 2008

Serbia

Oro Jelena Tomašević featuring Bora Dugić

Apart from the convenience of probably not having to travel very far to get to the venue, there are in all likelihood many other good things about representing your country on home soil at Eurovision. One in particular is the fact that whether or not you have a song or give a performance that warrants it, national pride and a sense of duty will drive the partisan audience in the arena wild for both and make your entry seem, for a few brief seconds before the director cues the next postcard, like the most amazing entry the contest has ever seen. In some cases this is deserved, and even when it's not – with the likes of, say, the mediocre Latvian entry in 2003 – the enthusiasm is so infectious that it is simpler just to go along with it. Until the groundswell of emotion subsides a song can be the greatest triumph of style over substance you've ever seen and you will still be swept along by it. Particularly if it is as superficially grand and sweeping as Oro.

Representing what is presumably the final work in Željko Joksimović's Eurovision triptych, Oro aspires to be its central panel, flanked by Lane Moje and Lejla as two lesser but related works. If its import is to be measured in the poetic obscurity of its lyrics it certainly outdoes both, without really saying anything more than either. Combined with the slightly forced enormity of the composition, it leaves you with the sense that it is being wilfully po-faced, and more than a little condescending. The fact that it takes itself so seriously goes beyond admirable to off-putting, which is a great shame, as there is a lot to otherwise like about it. As might be expected, the arrangement is layered and as rich as the vocals that accompany it from Jelena Tomašević, which have both the power and the fragility they need to make the part she is playing in the story convincing and for her to speak to her audience. That though is Oro's problem: whereas Molitva was largely straightforward, it is more round-about, almost to the point of being manipulative.

The strings of the crowd in the hall are nevertheless much easier to pull than those of the televoters on the other side of the screen, and though they might acknowledge the hosts' effort with the faint praise of a shrug and a “that was alright”, they won't necessarily vote for it just because 20,000 elated fans make it look as though they should. At the end of the day their entry remains one among many and will be judged on its own merits. In Oro's case they are there for all to see, but mostly because they are so crassly signposted. Serbia has given us 2008's Big Balkan Ballad, but it lacks the modesty that make its nearest equivalents – last year's Bosnian entry Rijeka Bez Imena and this year's Albanian entry Zemrën E Lamë Peng – so much more effective. It will earn enough support in the region and from its people elsewhere on the continent to ensure that it does better than Finland did in Helsinki, but unless Jelena can add a touch of humility to it I don't see it pulling in the points from the rest of Europe that it would need to bring the country a second consecutive victory, or even trouble the top five. Nono way, nono nono nono nono nono way.

16 May 2008

Spain

Baila El Chiki Chiki Rodolfo Chikilicuatre

As they are designed to achieve much the same thing, there are numerous parallels between national finals and Eurovision itself. Some of the most ironic this year, in more ways than one, are those between the changes implemented to the contest for its 53rd edition and the way in which this year's Spanish entry was chosen. The introduction of two semi-finals, each with a jury wildcard, is widely seen not only as a response to the ever growing number of EBU members wishing to compete but also to the tendency for certain countries to qualify without their entries enjoying broad appeal, leaving more 'deserving' songs to languish among the also-rans. Spain's national final, designed to reverse the country's fortunes in the contest and allay the resulting disenchantment, was easily the season's most innovative and contentious selection process, being hijacked in the end by a song that was voted to victory just as partially as any in Eurovision from the likes of FYR Macedonia. And despite being deliberately the lowest common denominator in musical terms, Baila El Chiki Chiki has the potential to deliver Spain its best result in quite a while.

2008 is seen as the Year of the Joke in Eurovision, and no country is celebrating it quite as comprehensively as Spain. Of all of the 'novelty acts' gracing the stage in Belgrade, self-styled and fan-labelled alike, only one really deserves the title, and that is Baila El Chiki Chiki. Compared to the sheer silliness of Estonia's Leto Svet, the wacky artistry of Bosnia and Herzegovina's Pokušaj or the cartoon capers of Latvia's Wolves Of The Sea, the Spanish entry stands out for being all of those things and more. Less too, as it has none of the cynicism of Ireland's Irelande Douze Pointe. More important than the fact that it is greater than the sum of its parts though is that it has better aim than any of the other entries it is being shoehorned into the same pigeonhole as: completely see-through from start to finish and immediate from the off, those willing to take the bait are likely to be hooked within seconds of it hitting the airwaves.

Given we're talking about a Saturday night Eurovision audience here with Spain performing fourth from last, the chances are there will be more than enough people in the right frame of mind and/or with a sufficient amount of alcohol on board for Baila El Chiki Chiki to do well. It has everything you want in a joke entry: a caricature for a performer; a dance routine crying out to be copied by those watching; a simple and repetitive melody, made all the more ridiculous and therefore effective in this case by sounding like it was written and produced on one of those Casio keyboards you regret giving your precocious niece for Christmas as soon as she unwraps it and starts pressing random buttons; and a complete lack of agenda. There will still be horrified purists and those who shake their heads at it, but for your average viewer it is very much a laugh with it rather than a laugh at it song, which makes all the difference when it comes time to vote.

Having said all that, I don't actually like Baila El Chiki Chiki. To me the joke wears thin long before the song reaches its conclusion; I would much rather they had kept it at half the length, which is how it originally appeared. I will be happy for Spain if it does well, so at least one of the Big Four does, but I can't see it going all the way, and I wouldn't really want it to lest it establish even more of a precedent for the future of Eurovision than has already been set. Its victory would be in perfect keeping with the direction it is taking, but completely ironic in terms of it being a song contest.

France

Divine Sébastien Tellier

When it comes to Eurovision, some countries are a lot more adventurous than others. There are those who churn out the same thing year in, year out; those who masquerade entries which would otherwise be labelled 'hopeless' or 'boring' with professions of concern for maintaining the quality of the music the contest showcases; those who only try something different if someone else proves it can be done first. But there are very few who deliberately choose the path of potentially greatest resistance and opt for songs and performances that either bring something new to the contest or are straight out of left-field (or both). A country that gained a reputation for doing so in the 1990s was France, and the circle has come around again: after reverting to type in the new millennium with a long line of ballads, the last of which was proffered almost apologetically with the caveat that at least it would bring a bit of 'class' to the stage, 2007 saw the country producing one of the year's most diverse and contemporary national finals and, from it, one of the contest's most exceptional entries. One year later, unruffled by the underwhelming response to Les Fatals Picards, the French have once again thought outside the box, and the result is Divine.

It's fair to say that in the lead-up to the revelation of the French entry for Belgrade, with speculation rife as to which alleged well-known star might have been brought on board, next to no one would have thought of Sébastien Tellier. More than just thinking outside of the box, Bruno Berberas and French television seem to have consciously sought out as narrow a niche as they could a) find and b) persuade to align itself with Eurovision, considered by many to be the last great bastion of anaemic pop. In that sense the coup they have pulled off is quite remarkable: though Tellier and his music are felt by some to be the personification of artistic pretention, the fact that a song-writer who is celebrated by others as one of the best on the French music scene is representing his country in the contest at all is an achievement. Especially when the song he is competing with – despite sounding nothing like anything else on offer – still has a tangible pop sensibility running through it that suits the contest perfectly.

Apart from simply being unexpected, Divine also stands out for the fact that its pop credentials are anything but affected. Whereas to some countries it seems as though manufacturing pop is like deciphering the instructions given to you in a foreign language for the DIY kit you thought it was a good idea to buy, Sébastien Tellier is part of a French electronica scene that includes Air and Daft Punk, both of whom he has worked with, and indeed one half of the latter of which produced the album from which Divine is taken. That though is probably the petard by which the song will also be hoist: despite being different in an accessible way, it remains an album track in an idiosyncratic style with unfathomable lyrics, and on the Eurovision stage is likely to be seen as just another novelty act. Consequently its chances of success depend on the artist's willingness to play it as it will be taken. If it is to have any impact on televoters besides leaving them bemused, the performance will need to be shrewdly pitched.

Divine to me is nevertheless the kind of alternative mainstream song Eurovision needs more of, and I would love to see it doing well for France if for no other reason than to reward them for not falling back into their old ways. I wouldn't even complain if success came only because people saw it as an amusing interlude, since there is both thought and quality behind it. But realistically, in a final where potentially a quarter of the field may be trying to outdo one another in the kooky stakes for the audience's votes, its chances are not high. Still, I'm glad of its inclusion – even if that's all it comes across as.

15 May 2008

Germany

Disappear No Angels

The number of ways in which Eurovision entries are chosen is surprisingly large given that your choice is limited to a national final or an internal selection. The Grands Prix and Eurosongs and myriad other festivals that take place across the continent between December and March all have some distinguishing feature; no two are exactly alike, although they may take after one another. Some countries chop and change between holding finals and simply announcing who will represent them; others stick to national selections but vary the way they go about them; while still others are so attached to their formats and convinced of their success that they leave well alone. In some cases this works; in others it does not – which makes those broadcasters who maintain national finals without making any adjustments to them even if they produce a string of failures all the more striking for their lack of insight and/or ambition. One such country is Germany.

Along with their brothers and sisters in the Big Four, the Germans have had a rough time of it on the Eurovision scoreboard in recent years. After following in the footsteps of the UK and coming last in 2005, the format of their national final was tweaked to narrow the field of chart acts competing, presumably with the idea that this would put more of a focus on quality. The change was largely successful; the songs that made it through were not. Though both of high calibre, No No Never and Frauen Regier'n Die Welt failed to make an impact on the televoters of Europe. Recent claims suggest that in Roger Cicero's case at least this may have been very different under juries, but that's not the way the contest works these days. The Germans who voted them to victory might have had better taste that the rest of the continent, but that doesn't alter the fact that the system which produced them failed to come up with a song with broad appeal. And using the same system in 2008 has led to the same result.

A piece of well-produced pop that wouldn't feel out of place in MTV's European Top Twenty, Disappear is setting its stall on completely the wrong street by competing in the Eurovision Song Contest. Very much an airplay kind of track, No Angels' performance in the national final proved that it translates awkwardly to the stage, offering little in the way of visual incident or impact besides the ubiquitous wind machine. It is not a song which lends itself to the situation being improved without appearing overbaked, either - although the girls would pull off the greatest gimmick of the contest if they actually managed to disappear at the end of their performance (a simple cross-fade from a locked-off camera to a pre-recorded shot from the same position would do it). But then the fact that the song needs something like this to ensure that anyone even notices it, especially so early in the run, speaks volumes. Its draw may be its death knell, even if the prognosis was stark to begin with.

Two things may yet save Disappear from providing Germany with another last place in the final (which I see as being a more likely result for them than for the UK this year, if only just): one is the fact that it actually means something, that its message is clear and that its minimalist composition is well in keeping with the lyrics, which may earn it some brownie points here and there; the other is that even in the absence of Austria, No Angels should be a big enough name for them to be shown a little mercy by their other neighbours. I'm not sure they will be by anyone else - they sing well, but their voices are a little hard to take to unless you like the 'great-together-individually-unique' approach of girl groups down the ages. If it fails to win them any points, the least we can hope for in response is that NDR is emboldened to alter its own approach to the contest. There's only so many times you can flog a dead horse.

13 May 2008

United Kingdom

Even If Andy Abraham

If there is one fail-safe way of ensuring that you don't win Eurovision, it is to copy the previous year's winner, even in the broadest of musical terms. The Czech Republic made its debut in the semi-final in Helsinki last year with harder rock than the Finns strolled to victory with in Athens and received the wooden spoon for their efforts, while the hosts fared less than impressively themselves in the final. However, the fact that the contest even has a place for the likes of Leave Me Alone in it these days shows that it no longer exists within the narrow boundaries that countries strayed beyond at their peril as little as a decade ago. All manner of music and performances are welcome, from ethnic to electronica and everything in between. However, one genre in particular seems to have become the other fail-safe way of ensuring you don't win Eurovision, or even getting close: anything retro. This would be bad news for any country who had plumped for the style, but it is especially so for the United Kingdom.

2007 more than any other year underscored that audiences simply are not voting for retro entries at Eurovision. Be it glam or disco, they're not having it, as the poor showings of Belgium in the semi-final and Sweden in the final showed. It is not an isolated phenomenon: the Finnish entry in 2002 and the Dutch entry in 2003 shared similar fates, for example, although in both of those cases the immediately preceding commercial breaks may have figured in their demise. Indeed, the reasons why televoters are shunning songs like One More Night and The Worrying Kind may be many and various, even if they are well-performed. (Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that Eurovision is seen as being cheesy enough without throwbacks to the era that started it all.) Whatever they may be, it suggests that Andy Abraham would be facing an uphill battle in Belgrade even if he wasn't directly qualified for the final.

In fact everything seems to be working against him. Since the introduction of the semi-final in 2004, those that have qualified from it have generally done much better than those who find themselves in the final from the outset. Moreover, with diaspora voting exerting greater and greater influence on the results, the bottom half of the scoreboard is largely becoming a dumping ground for automatic finalists from the West – and specifically to the extent in recent years that the Big Four (France, Germany, Spain and the United Kingdom) have come to be dubbed the Bottom Four. Conspiracy theorists claim that the UK has been unfairly exposed to a political cold shoulder in Eurovision since the nation's involvement in the Iraq war, the 'high' point of which being the famous nul points achieved by Jemini in 2003; realists tend to point out the relative weakness of their entries in the face of the competition. Either way the result is the same.

The irony the United Kingdom may face in 2008 then is that while hardly the most modern three minutes of music it has ever entered, Even If is arguably its best entry since 2002's Come Back, with a very solid performer in Andy Abraham, and yet has nary a hope of achieving the same kind of result. Its arrangement and composition are more than merely capable, but lack the edge that would get viewers saying “ooh, that's worth voting for”. It might not be able to strip Cry Baby of its unique 26th and very last place without a point to its name, but coupled with the lack of exposure in either of the semi-finals, plus the fact that 23 other songs will follow it in this year's line-up, it may well deliver the UK an even worse result than expected without deserving it at all. If so, I would hope it is the wake-up call the country needs to return to the days – not all that long ago – when it was one of the few in the contest to consistently pioneer contemporary music. For as competent as Even If may be, it is almost certainly not going to return them to the top of the scoreboard.

The final

With 80% of this year's finalists as yet unknown it is largely pointless prophesying the fates of the five we do have. An awful lot will depend on the songs that qualify from the semi-finals and the order they're drawn in, but certain generalisations can still be made and conclusions drawn.

If the United Kingdom and Germany were ever going to make a dent on the scoreboard it wouldn't have been from the early starting positions they have found themselves in. Followed by anywhere between eight and ten songs that at least half of the audience will probably already have seen and heard, their chances of making any impact are significantly reduced.

At the other end of the final, Spain and Serbia are well-positioned to do much better. The hosts doing well is pretty much a given, although how high they climb on the scoreboard again depends what comes through from the semi-final and where it ends up. Spain is a little more semi-finalist proof, being so oddball, although it could find itself in a clump of novelty entries and suffer as a result. Assuming anyone goes for it in the first.

France sneaks into roughly the last quarter of the draw, and although that's perhaps better than being stuck at the front end of the final it may make little difference. The French entry is in a league of its own and will either work on stage and appeal to the audience or it won't.

Though it goes without saying, I would posit that the finalist most likely to do well is Serbia, while I see Germany and the United Kingdom jostling with each other for the Big 4's wooden spoon. Until then... on with the reviews!

Poll results - Semi-final 2

With my reviews of the songs from the second semi-final now complete and roughly the same number of people having voted in this poll as in the earlier one, I have decided to close it now before taking a look at the finalists.

Seven out of the ten songs predicted by voters to make it to the final match mine, with the exceptions being Switzerland (most notably), Iceland and Latvia. In their place I have Croatia, Denmark and Malta going through.

The ten countries that will qualify based on the results of this poll (number one being the one that received the most votes and so on) are:

01. Turkey
02. Sweden
03. Ukraine
04. Switzerland
05. Portugal
06. FYR Macedonia
07. Albania
08. Bulgaria
09. Iceland
10. Latvia

There was less consensus in this poll than the first, with only 5 songs receiving the support of every other voter. The results also suggest that at the lower end of the televoting top nine as many as four or five qualification spots could be very open, not to mention who gets the jury wildcard.

The poll is nevertheless quite clear in suggesting that half of the qualifiers should come from the very start and very end of the semi-final, and that Lithuania's chances of making it to the final are as slim as those of the Czech Republic.

A poll for each of the five finalists will be open shortly. Get voting!

Semi-final 2: an overview

Unlike last time, taking an individual look at all of the songs in the Thursday semi-final has given me more confidence about which songs will qualify and which ones definitely won't - but not which ones will qualify in place of those whose chances seem non-existent. Giving them the once over in order produced the following thoughts.

The first third of the semi-final, with the glaring exception of Lithuania, is strong enough to produce almost half of its qualifiers, although whether it does is another matter. I'm also on the fence as to whether Sweden can qualify with room to spare in such close proximity to Ukraine, although I would expect both to get through. Albania stands out after the upbeat beginning to the show for being so reserved and I feel it will win enough support to get through.

From the mid-section, Switzerland does not sound as convincing as it might, although Croatia, Bulgaria and Denmark are all distinct enough from one another to win votes after the less inviting run from the Czech Republic to Latvia (which still makes you sit up and take notice, but mostly because it is so irritating).

If the last third or so of the semi-final produces the same number of qualifiers this part of the contest normally does, I really don't know which they'll be. Portugal closes the show with a punch that should see them do well, and Malta may benefit from being bookended by Hungary and Cyprus, though I'm not sure it will be enough to qualify. FYR Macedonia's chances are something of a mystery too.

Again, for what it's worth, the following are the countries whose names I predict will be in the ten envelopes at the end of the night. Repeating myself from last time, they do not necessarily represent who I want to get through; they are based on the assumption that all of the performances will be equally good and equally attractive in their own way; no distinction is made between the nine that qualify through televoting and the jury wildcard; and they're in alphabetical order rather than any anticipated ranking.

- Albania
- Bulgaria
- Croatia
- Denmark
- FYR Macedonia
- Malta
- Portugal
- Sweden
- Turkey
- Ukraine

Once again I feel I'm on fairly safe ground with about half of them, although picking the last few qualifiers was a struggle. There are fewer songs in the second semi-final that I have as much affection for, which makes it easier in the sense of not 'making sure' my favourites are reflected in my prediction, but trying to figure out what your average European televoter will go for if I don't also makes it harder ;-)

With the rehearsals underway in Belgrade and more of an idea forming of what performances will look like, speculation about how qualification chances are being affected is already rife, although I'll be reserving judgement until the night itself (and probably then still getting a fair few wrong). The first semi-final is a week away today, so we don't have long to wait!

12 May 2008

Portugal

Senhora Do Mar (Negras Águas) Vânia Fernandes

Given the random nature of the themes attributed to Eurovision each year by the host broadcaster, it is at best a coincidence if any of the songs competing in it reflect them. Nothing really captured the spirit of Helsinki’s ‘true fantasy’ in 2007; the conceit of some of the performers and anyone who thought Switzerland would vie for the title arguably came close, but it did produce two songs - the semi-final and final openers Water and Rijeka Bez Imena - which would perhaps be more at home in Belgrade as part of 2008’s ‘confluence of sound’. If so, they would be joined not only by Latvia’s Pirates of the Sea, but also this year’s Portuguese entry, the aptly titled Senhora Do Mar (Negras Águas).

Although as unlike Wolves Of The Sea as is musically possible, Senhora Do Mar does share one thing in common with the Latvian entry: a foreign composer. For the first time in Portugal’s Eurovision history (to the best of my knowledge) it is being represented by a song exclusively produced by someone with no connection to the country. Andrej Babić, responsible for recent entries from Croatia, Bosnia and Herzegovina and Slovenia, has branched out and written a pan-Mediterranean power ballad that could come from just about anywhere, despite the melodramatic Balkan overtones. While it is not not Portuguese, it makes Vânia Fernandes’ (or perhaps RTP’s) decision to sing the song in her native language all the more understandable. The result is a true confluence of sound that should, or at least could, see the song going down well from Ibiza to Izmir.

While next to no one is foolhardy enough to predict a maiden victory for Portugal in 2008, there seems to be fairly widespread consensus that Senhora Do Mar is the country’s strongest entry in a long time and that it will see them qualify for the final for the first time in five years. I would agree; while neither the arrangement nor the orchestration are the most imaginative we’ve heard in the contest, they remain effective, and the vocal performance Ms Fernandes puts in is likely to be as substantial as she herself is. The gravitas of her delivery occasionally makes her a little frightening, but that didn’t stop Serbia winning last year with a not altogether dissimilar song (and similarly ponderous staging). It is a song she simply needs to belt out, and that is something she clearly knows how to do.

Portugal’s relative isolation in Eurovision means that Senhora Do Mar is unlikely to have the same pulling power as Molitva, but if it were to get a good draw in the final I wouldn’t be surprised to see it providing the nation with its best result to date, at least in terms of points. The country has never cracked three figures in the contest, but this year may be different. It brings Thursday night’s proceedings to a powerful close, and though I can’t see it giving them their first ever top five finish in the final, the top ten might not be beyond their reach if there is a dearth of ballads in the Saturday night line-up after the ten qualifiers from the second semi-final are revealed. There is a confluence of more than just sound about the Portuguese entry this year, and their hopes, quite rightly, will be high.

11 May 2008

FYR Macedonia

Let Me Love You Tamara, Vrčak & Adrijan

With the headcount of active participants at Eurovision having almost doubled from the numbers that were taking part in the contest each year less than a decade ago, it was inevitable that steps would have to be taken to distribute them more evenly; thus was the semi-final system born. When it became obvious in the run-up to Helsinki that the semi-final was also bulging around the middle, the two semi-final system was born. However, the conventional wisdom doing the rounds is that it was introduced more as a measure to curb the influence of diaspora voting, thereby producing a more even field of qualifiers in the final. Taking the theory one step further, some even claim it was introduced in direct response to the consistent qualification of one country in particular: FYR Macedonia...

The Balkan republic has made it out of the semi-final every year since 2004 ranked 9th or 10th in the televoting, generally having received a significant proportion of support from its neighbours, and often ahead of countries who have received wider overall support but a slightly smaller total number of points. In some quarters this is seen as being unjust, and the Macedonians’ qualification is regarded as not merely consistent but consistently undeserved. However, voting patterns aside, this fails to take into account the quality of the songs involved, the quality of the performances and the quality of the competition they were up against; and since this in itself is such a subjective issue, it is a very grey area generally to get into. In a way the country seems to have been adopted as an all-purpose scapegoat for the perceived weaknesses of the format of the contest at present, with anything good it may contribute being overlooked as a result.

It seems rather appropriate then that FYR Macedonia should roll up to Beogradska Arena with the beseechingly titled Let Me Love You. While the song commits many of the same sins for which the country has been burned before, both stylistically and in terms of its primary audience, the fact that it is to be performed entirely in English with a decent set of lyrics suggests that Tamara, Vrčak & Adrijan are setting their sights slightly further afield than just the other side of Lake Ohrid. It also sets them apart from hosts Serbia, fellow former Yugoslav states Bosnia & Herzegovina, Croatia, Montenegro and Slovenia and neighbour Albania, who have all largely or entirely eschewed the international language and therefore much chance of being understood by anyone outside of the region who wouldn’t automatically vote for them anyway.

Whether anyone does though is another thing. Let Me Love You being similar in feel to the 2006 Macedonian entry Ninanajna may be a good thing in the sense that Elena Risteska delivered the country its best result to date in Athens, falling only two places short of a top ten finish. The Balkans have a fondness and aptness for contemporary R&B that is only rivalled on the continent by France, and although it is not a genre that has enjoyed a lot of success at Eurovision, Let Me Love You is a fairly strong advertisement for it and may find wider appeal. The least successful part of the song is the rap, which always sounds forced when delivered by skinny white guys, and here at times it sounds far too close to the more cringe-worthy moments of Moldova’s 2006 entry Loca for comfort. That aside, Tamara’s vocals suit the song and the orchestral arrangement accompanying the hip hop elements is one of the most prominent and effective this year.

If the yardstick of whether the two semi-final system works is FYR Macedonia not qualifying for Saturday’s final, I suspect that a lot of people will, ironically, be disappointed. On the assumption that the three leads put in a performance on the night that is more together than the one they gave at the national final in Skopje, or that at least comes across as more together, I can see them earning their onward ticket fairly convincingly. Sadly, they’re damned if they do and damned if they don’t: progress and a wave of sarcasm and wrath will be unleashed on them by an exasperated West in search of an excuse; fail to progress and those same people will call it ‘justice’. (Which is something you could only call it if the isolated Thursday night performance was pants.) Despite having perhaps benefitted most from the draw, I reckon - and hope - that if Let Me Love You does qualify it will do so at least equally on merit.

Cyprus

Femme Fatale Evdokia Kadi

As one of the most flexible formats around, it's no surprise that Eurovision accommodates such a diverse range of songs and performances. Alongside the usual plethora of pop, we have already seen that the 2008 edition of the contest is interspersed with OTT theatre and show numbers straight out of musicals in the likes of the Azeri and Lithuanian entries. Joining their ranks in Belgrade will be Cyprus, who are bringing their own melodrama to the stage with Evdokia Kadi's Femme Fatale. Less the Moulin Rouge of the Nicosian cabaret scene and more your twenty-euros-a-head end-of-package-tour dinner-and-show tune, it is one of the most characterful entries in this year's contest, but at the same time one of its most inscrutable.

Reminiscent in style and execution of 2002 winner I Wanna from Latvia, Femme Fatale is a hundred times more authentic but about thirty years too late. Like many of the songs it will be competing against in the second semi-final it sounds like it has been extracted from another era and doesn't have any idea what its aim in life is, at least in terms of Eurovision. Part of this is down to the fact that the music, while neatly and interestingly arranged, has such a narrow focus: a razzle-dazzle take on what is essentially the sirtaki, it is not the kind of thing your average Eurovision viewer is going to be an avid fan of. Part of it also comes from the use of Greek, which exacerbates the sense of it being so passé. Choosing the language over English or French makes sense in context, but this year more than ever seems a foolhardy move to have made.

Bereft of 12 points from its core audience, Cyprus is nevertheless unlikely to come away empty-handed from the second semi-final, with the Greek diaspora on the mainland as well as in the UK sure to pick up their phones and vote it out of last place. I don't expect Femme Fatale to get anywhere close to crossing the line ahead of ten other countries though, and neither do I fancy it as the juries' wildcard, which if nothing means that Greece's douze should be more unpredictable come Saturday night. In the event that the Cypriots are faced with another result in Belgrade which is much more comme ça than comme ci and they persist with the French cliches as song titles, what's betting next year's will be C'Est La Vie?

09 May 2008

Malta

Vodka Morena

If Eurovision is the music television entertainment equivalent of cheese and crackers, Malta has to be one of the foremost cheese-producing nations in Europe. Like Denmark, they roll out one national final after another that shows no signs of awareness of what the contest has become, instead choosing to believe that their own brand of contest entry is something the audience will buy regardless of whether they want it or not. The tiny Mediterranean nation manufactures Europop of a kind that is regularly served up but doesn't always go down very well, and its last two results in the contest have perhaps proven that consumer tastes are changing. Unlike Denmark, Malta has responded: while still providing viewers with their usual dose of tack in Belgrade, the country has repackaged it in Clayton's novelty entry form* and will be serving up a three-minute shot of Vodka designed to go straight to the heads of televoters everywhere – especially those in the East.

Although not one of the songs this year that people tend to think of when asked to ponder the fate of the 'joke entries', the Maltese ditty more than any other takes its cue from last year's runner-up, Verka Serduchka's Dancing Lasha Tumbai, and is one of the most transparent and targeted campaigns of 2008. At least 80% proof in its intent to win over the east through blatant product placement, it must rank as one of the most shrewd (if not subtle) entries in the country's 20 plus-year history in the contest. Of course, its allure is not restricted to the traditionally vodka-swilling lands behind the old iron curtain, but anyone across the continent who enjoys a tipple and drunken televoters everywhere. The only problem here – the biggest problem – is whether such a target audience will be watching on a Thursday night. The song comes across as one which would do much if it were automatically qualified for the final than had to make it out of a mid-week semi-final, and this may prove its greatest hurdle.

This bodes well for Vodka though if it does receive a licence to trade on the weekend. It also assumes that the only people likely to vote for the song are those who identify with its message, and that may not be the case at all. It is one of the most immediate entries this year and is well-placed in the second semi-final for maximum impact, so even those who don't have the shot glasses lined up for their Eurovision drinking games may fall for its well-produced but still rather cheap brand of distilled pop. The song itself couldn't be any more obvious, meaning people will either down it in one or refuse it on principle, so the performance will be crucial in selling it. Morena makes an attractive shop girl and suits the song in the sense that her garbled pronunciation could make her a walking advertisement for the product she is pushing, but after Csézy's plum tones this almost comes as a relief.

Despite its appeal I'm not entirely convinced of Vodka's chances of qualification. It is brazen enough to earn some superficial support but, as with the majority of Maltese output, it's simply not that good: after the initial zing you realise it's actually pretty tasteless and doesn't have the kick it ought to. Nor as novelty entries go is it particularly novel. Then again, that could probably be said of a lot of songs in the second semi, whatever it says on the label, so Morena may yet slur and stumble her way into the final. Either way it will be interesting to see how the island nation recovers from its hangover.

*From an old Australian TV commercial for a non-alcoholic alcoholic beverage bottled to resemble whiskey, which came with the slogan “the drink you're having when you're not having a drink”. If you were wondering.

08 May 2008

Hungary

Candlelight Csézy

In its current incarnation, Eurovision is not something everyone has fully come to grips with. Some newcomers, like Andorra, have struggled to find their feet; some old-timers, like Monaco, have returned and found they couldn't keep pace; while others, like Slovakia, haven't even bothered to give it another try. Until the announcement of their return to the contest in 2005, it seemed that Hungary's contribution to Eurovision would also be restricted to its handful of entries from the 1990s: a modest collection of songs which, apart from their debut, Kinek Mondjam El Vétkeimet, would come away with equally modest results. The country's comeback in Kyiv marked a new beginning for the nation and proved its vote-pulling capacity, as did its 2007 follow-up, but it has yet to earn points in the contest for anything cutting edge or even vaguely contemporary. And that's not about to change in 2008 with the unflinchingly old-fashioned Candelight.

Though the less than linear approach Hungary has taken to Eurovision is reflected in the timelessness of the majority of its entries, this year sees them producing their first that is tangibly outdated. There is a certain irony to the fact that composer Viktor Rakonczai was a member of the boyband who represented Hungary in 1997 with pretty much the only song the country has ever submitted to the contest that sounded like something you might have heard in the charts at the time, because Candlelight sounds like something you would only ever have heard while watching Eurovision ten to fiteen years ago. Even the dance remix of the original Hungarian version - which peaked the interest of [clearly nostalgic] fans prior to the national final and led to some confusion as to which version would be used - comes across like it was produced in about 1993.

Everything conspires to make Candlelight feel out of time, both literally and metaphorically. The original version of the song fitted very neatly within the bounds of the traditional ballad, but the new arrangement is almost too balanced, with a bridge stuck right in the middle and intros and outros tacked on, while still failing to resolve the awkwardness of the transition into the first verse and the chorus after the middle eight. Delivering all of this is Csézy, competent and attractive in an off-puttingly prim kind of way, who sounds like she thinks she has entered the Eurovision Diction Contest, with a speech therapist wanging up her mouth as she sings. When she does, the lyrics tell an enduring tale we've all heard before. The few lines of Hungarian here work a lot better than the one in Catalan in the Andorra entry Casanova: they make more sense in context, even if they serve much the same purpose, and seem slightly less like pointless pandering. But only just.

Still, each to his own. I'm sure there will be a slice of the audience watching the second semi-final from Belgrade who is taken with Candlelight's slightly fusty if not exactly superannuated charms. Not enough to see it qualify, mind you, and I don't subscribe to the view that because it sounds old-fashioned it will get the nod from the juries. Its draw is not as favourable as it first appears: sandwiched between the Georgian anthem and the alcohol-fuelled Maltese entry, it may easily be forgotten - and if it is, I hope Hungary is inspired to try something a little more of its time for their next entry.

Georgia

Peace Will Come Diana Gurtskaya

Eurovision may be many things, but it is not an exercise in intellectualism. It is three hours of brainless entertainment one Saturday night each year in which the best the songs and performances can generally hope to be labelled is 'clever' in the sense of 'astute'. Anyone who gets ideas above their station tends to be scorned and/or shunned, although sincerity and inventiveness are often rewarded. At the best of times it runs the gamut of cheese and kitsch and the gauntlet of an audience with at least one eyebrow raised. It may be as trite, tacky, corny and camp as it ever was, even impressive on occasion, but one description that is becoming harder to apply to it and its entries in an era when having the right song is more important than having a good song is naïve. This year's is without doubt the most calculated contest to date in terms of the types of songs and performances that have been entered, making those that aren't (as) premeditated all the more obvious. And there is nothing in 2008 that seems quite as naïve as the Georgian entry, Peace Will Come.

Of course, that depends whether you consider sending a blind woman to perform an anthem in which she is basically saying “if I can see this why can't you” to be naïve, and many would say that it is actually about as studied as you can get. The mere fact that the song is a peace anthem though is what makes it naïve: as well-meant as these things possibly are, they frequently come across as disingenuous, especially in a contest where people don't necessarily want a song with a message. Eurovision may be designed to bring people together, but no one wants the credo shoved down their throats, and in that sense what you are saying is bound to fall on deaf ears. That may even be in spite of the fact that the message is pertinent to the situation in the country it is representing, as with Peace Will Come and the instability plaguing Georgia. In this day and age people are cynical enough without Eurovision force-feeding them moral virtue. Wrong audience.

The song itself is naïve too, albeit more in the sense of being simple and guileless than lacking sophistication. As a piece of music it is rather attractive; without the lyrics I would be much more disposed to listen to it, although in its defence it is structured and arranged in a way that reflects the quiet but persistent power Diana Gurtskaya preaches. (Mind you, that's probably down to the lyricist; it depends which came first, the words or the music.) Never less than consistent, it remains tethered to a message and a messenger who are equally grating in their way and between them gets rather lost. Whether anyone will notice is doubtful, as I suspect Ms Gurtskaya may attract any attention that is being paid. Apart from the ill-conceived choreography that is likely to accompany the song (if past performances are anything to go by, including the super-twee How Long from last year's Belarusian national final), she has a voice that is permanently on the verge of being unattractive.

Not that Peace Will Come will be wholly without supporters in Belgrade. Diana Gurtskaya may be a complete unknown in most of the countries in the second semi-final, but she is likely to earn herself fairly high marks from the likes of Belarus and Ukraine and anywhere else on the fringes of the Russian entertainment roundabout. I just doubt she will from anyone else. Needless to say I am disappointed with Georgia for not only not maintaining the high standard of their debut but for going from one extreme to the other in the space of a year: their 2008 entry is diametrically opposed to Visionary Dream and shows none of its originality or depth. It is harmless enough, but unlikely to arouse anything in viewers that will get them to vote for it en masse. And in a contest where that is basically the whole point, what could possibly be more naïve?

07 May 2008

Poll results - Semi-final 1

With more than 50 people having voted in the prediction poll for the first semi-final, I decided to close it early so that I could start a similar one for the second semi, prior to completing my reviews of it.

Interestingly (for me), nine out of the ten songs predicted to qualify for the final by voters matched mine, with the only exception being Slovenia, who more people feel are likely to make it than my dark horses Teräsbetoni for Finland.

The ten countries that will qualify based on the results of this poll (number one being the one that received the most votes and so on) are:

01. Greece
02. Russia
03. Armenia
04. Norway
05. Bosnia and Herzegovina
06. Ireland
07. Romania
08. Azerbaijan
09. Slovenia
10. Israel

There was a high level of consensus in the poll, with virtually all of the top 7 ranked songs receiving the support of every other voter. The results also suggest that the final qualification spot could be a close race between a handful of countries, although in reality of course it will be the juries who decide.

Apart from Israel, the poll suggests that the early part of the draw in the first semi-final could be a qualification-free zone, with things looking particularly grim for newcomers San Marino. Still, everything comes down to those three minutes in Belgrade, and they may yet surprise us all.

The poll for the second semi-final is now open. Happy voting!

05 May 2008

Denmark

All Night Long Simon Mathew

There are many reasons why people love and loathe Eurovision in equal measure. A lot of them are shared: for every person who despises the contest for being camp and contrived there will be someone who likes it for that very reason; for every detractor who sees it as the embodiment of everything that is banal about pop music and popular culture there will be somebody who celebrates it. And for every country who responds to the criticism and attempts to push the envelope there will be one who ignores the call, choosing to take the contest for what it is and continue in the same easy-listening, uncomplicated vein it always has. The country in question, needless to say, being Denmark.

Ever since they returned to the contest in the late '70s after an eleven-year absence the Danes have presented a largely uninterrupted run of entries that are as laid back as they are. With the exception of their 2007 entry Drama Queen, which by its very nature could be seen to be championing a cause, you have to go back as far as 1981's Krøller Eller Ej for anything even resembling an agenda. Their entries tend to plough a straightforward course and are often labelled 'very Danish', although the epithet is generally used less in a derogatory sense than it is as a synonym for three minutes of unexceptional and almost always agreeable music. Which is what they have delivered yet again in 2008 with Simon Mathew and All Night Long.

Immediate, uplifting and virtually the only song in this year's field of 43 to invoke the audience, the Danish entry stands out not only in its semi-final but in the 2008 contest as a whole. It is easy to disregard it for its simplicity, but this would be overlooking the fact that simple songs which are performed well and engage the viewers often do very well. The best example is the 2001 winner, Everybody, which took almost everyone by surprise: an entry with a similar feel in a year where there were no absolute favourites and in which the overall quality of the songs was considered to be lower than in other years. The parallels are evident, particularly in the context of the second semi-final.

Not that I'm suggesting All Night Long will win the whole shebang, but it has the right mix of qualities to see it qualify for the final with room to spare if Mr Mathew & co give a good account of themselves and connect with the audience in the same way that, say, fellow countryman Jakob Sveistrup did in 2005. Apart from anything else it has a cleverly structured arrangement that pulls all of the focus onto the chorus, with the percussion and acoustics having drawn you into it in what must be the nearest musical equivalent to toe-tapping. By the time the song launches itself from the key change into its final minute it's become a quintessential clapalongathon I defy anyone to resist.

The Danish entry never professes to being terribly impressive or even progressive: it's just three minutes of musical entertainment for the masses. Though it has a very Nordic sensibility, it speaks a completely different language to the Icelandic and Swedish entries it is competing against in the second semi-final - one which I feel will be more widely understood and appreciated. Eurovision might not be everyone's idea of a good time, but for those who do watch it I suspect the ostentation-free charm of All Night Long may be very easy to succumb to.

04 May 2008

Bulgaria

DJ, Take Me Away Deep Zone & Balthazar

In its more than 50 years of history the Eurovision stage has been graced with an almost endless variety of musical styles and performances, but is regularly cited for failing to reflect what is really going on in the world of music. Never was this more the case than in the 1990s: though an era that produced some of the contest's finest entries, few of them had anything to do with contemporary music. There were exceptions of course - such as Gina G's Ooh Aah... Just A Little Bit for the UK in 1996 - but by and large it was a decade which, for the contest at least, never existed. Ten years later, one of the countries reaping the benefit is Bulgaria: its 2008 entry may sound very nineties, but in a contest where that sound never had the opportunity to be heard at the time it still manages to come across as refreshing and different.

Perhaps ironically then, the song that the instrumental nature and lyrical brevity of DJ, Take Me Away are most reminiscent of is mid-'90s Norwegian winner Nocturne. At just four lines repeated ad infinitum it is no wordsmith's masterpiece, but neither is it meant to be. As with its unlikely stablemate, the words are just there to add a bit of texture to the music, which is the focus of the entire three minutes. Its changes of pace are cleverly effected and only occasionally signposted, meaning that the audience are likely to be kept guessing as to what comes next. This could have backfired on Deep Zone & Balthazar; the minds of the televoters could easily wander, even in the short space of time they will get to say what they have to, but there is a relentless and very appropriate drive to the composition that should keep those watching and listening interested. This produces one of the most effective and immediate openings of any of the songs in this year's contest.

Where DJ, Take Me Away may come unstuck, if not in its musical minimalism, is in the performance itself. Limited lyrics or not, there is plenty of scope for the vocals to be dodgy, and should any or all of Deep Zone & Balthazar get a bit overexcited and litter the song with wooing and blathering as they did during the winner's reprise at the Bulgarian national final, failing to realise that the lack of human intervention is the song's strength, they may do themselves out of a qualification spot. On the other hand, if they come across convincingly, having toned down some of the more obviously dated visual references without making the whole thing sterile, they should find themselves well-placed to have a kind of Romania 2006 effect. Especially if they're also given some well-judged staging, lighting and camerawork.

Having only made the final once it is difficult to judge whether Bulgaria has been disadvantaged by the draw, although they will be buoyed by the fact that countries like Cyprus and FYR Macedonia - which showed solid support not only for Water in 2007 but also for their non-qualifying entries in 2005 and 2006 - are also present in the second semi-final. They have also done well to be drawn between the Latvian and Croatian entries on one side and virtually all of the remaining entries on the other, most of which are dated in their own way and from which it stands out a mile. It might be the '90s ten years too late at Eurovision, but I nevertheless suspect that DJ, Take Me Away will sound modern enough to most televoters to see it through to the final.

Croatia

Romanca Kraljevi Ulice & 75 Cents

"Age is no barrier" is not a saying that is regularly applied to Eurovision. True, after a bunch of primary school children represented their countries in the mid- to late-'80s the rule was introduced that all of the performers must be at least old enough to avoid allegations of exploitation, but there is no upper limit; there is simply a perception that the contest, especially in its current form, is one for younger singers. The fortunes of more mature artists though have been no more or less mixed than those of their up-and-coming counterparts, with the back-to-back victories of Denmark and Estonia in 2000 and 2001 setting new records for oldest winners and thus proving that the idea of Eurovision being for the 'kids' is something of a misconception. One country that seems to have taken heed is Croatia: not content with providing the contest with its oldest ever singer last year, they have outdone themselves in 2008 and set the bar almost 20 years higher.

Like the rosy-cheeked old dear who stole the show for Moldova in 2005, the true star of Romanca is not Croatian crooners Kraljevi Ulice but grand old man 75 Cents. Looking doddery and ever so slightly lost while sounding like everyone's pop about to deliver a "when I was your age" spiel, he is charming and lovable. Though his involvement is really no less exploitative than sticking someone an eighth of his age behind the microphone, it is much more effective and adds a further touch of character to the song that would be conspicuous in its absence were the message to be delivered by someone still wet behind the ears. More to the point, it is not only effective and appropriate to the song, but also very astute in terms of the kinds of gimmicks a Eurovision entry requires these days to win over the televoters.

In that sense it is tempting to lump Romanca in with the various other 'novelty' entries doing the rounds in 2008, but take 75 Cents out of the equation and we have one of the year's most inventively arranged and substantial songs and some of its best lyrics. In purely musical terms it is Croatia's most solid entry for a number of years, well-founded and multi-layered, and composed in a way that reveals something new to you each time you listen to it. Even in the unlikely event that it failed to win the support of the voters, it would have to be a favourite to win the backing of the juries.

Having said that, Romanca is so personable that it should resonate with anyone in the audience over a certain age and still appeal to those below it. I fully expect it to qualify for the final, and once it gets there I am just as convinced that virtually the entire field of tall poppies will be forced to take their hats off to the voice of experience. Croatia has failed to make the top ten every year since 2001, albeit coming close on several occasions, and 2008 is the year in which I feel they will make a triumphant return to it.

03 May 2008

Latvia

Wolves Of The Sea Pirates Of The Sea

One of the aims of Eurovision has always been to bring the people of the continent together through song. Back in the day, mini-states like Monaco and Luxembourg could always be relied on to foster this noble cause by shipping in boatloads of foreign composers and artists to perform their entries, and despite their absence the tradition continues to this day. Replacement principality Andorra has to look beyond its borders virtually every year for material, while debutants San Marino were proud to announce that at least one member of Miodio actually lives there. However, the plundering of other countries is larger in scope than it has ever been and far from being restricted to dots on the map. There is a regular exchange of composers and singers across the Baltic Sea, for example, and nobody is immune. However, for employing the dubious services of a Swedish crew for the second year in a row, one stands out: Latvia. And in Wolves Of The Sea you have to question whether the spoils were really worth the effort.

While seeing its appeal, I took an instant dislike to the Latvian entry in Helsinki, and the song that will sail under the country's flag in Belgrade is just as contrived. What I disliked most about Questa Notte was not its cod opera status, but that it bore no connection to Latvia whatsoever: although the line-up of Bonaparti.lv was largely local, the song was produced by Swedes and fronted by an Italian who basically hijacked the entire process and milked the song's Italianness for all it was worth. To all intents and purposes it was the Italian entry Italy hadn't entered. And although no such claims are being made about Wolves Of The Sea, it is equally unrepresentative of the country it is representing. I am not one to advocate the return of language rules or that a reflection of national culture be enforced in Eurovision, but at the same time if your entry says absolutely nothing about your country (apart, perhaps, from televoters having bad taste) I don't really see the point. Yes, the contest is about finding something that will appeal to people all over the continent, but still. Sailing under false colours and all that.

Not that I would expect Pirates Of The Sea to come anywhere close to victory in Belgrade. If it was the Latvian entry in Junior Eurovision I might find it entertaining; as is, it brings a new level of tackiness to the contest and is easily the most demeaning of this year's novelty entries, with cheap production values compounded by a very unattractive set of vocals. True, Eurovision is far from being high-brow entertainment, and the song is immediate enough that it would perhaps see them qualifying if the audience were in the mood for a bit of pantomime, but since 'big name' DJ Bobo was given a definitive thumbs down in Helsinki with a similarly cheap number I live in hope that it sinks like a stone. To me it is but further proof that Latvia has become the scurvy of the ESC, and I will despair if the televoters fail to take the wind out of their sails.

Belarus

Hasta La Vista Ruslan Alehno

No country has contributed quite the same element of mystery to Eurovision in recent years as relative newcomers Belarus. Taking the will-they-or-won't-they aspect of Albania's makeovers that one step further, they constantly play with the audience in a guessing game where you can never even be sure that their song, once chosen, will actually make it to the contest. Since joining in 2004, two of their five selected entries have been dumped in favour of something regarded as more appropriate; one has been completely rearranged; and three have been significantly reworked. But apart from 2007's Work Your Magic, which came fully-formed (once it turned up at all) and delivered the country its first final berth and a top ten finish, pretty much all of these reinventions have been for nought - a trend they will be hoping to reverse in Belgrade with Hasta La Vista.

Perhaps deterred by the lack of success enjoyed by their neighbours Ukraine on their 2003 debut with a song of the same name in a similar style, the Belarusian team have ditched the disco ball beneath which Hasta La Vista claimed victory in the national final and given the song a shot of testosterone. The transformation could hardly be more complete. As with the changes made to the Albanian entry, which were more in keeping with what the song was saying, Belarus beefing up theirs has lent it the bite it was missing in its limp-wristed earlier incarnation, in which Ruslan's dissing of his former lover was as camp as a row of tents. With a pop rock backing of electric guitars and prominent percussion it is now delivered with more attitude and - despite the orchestration - less melodrama. In other words: more effectively.

Needless to say this is relative to the original. It is a perfectly workable piece of music with a perfectly workable tune, but there remains something uninspiring about Hasta La Vista. It does its best to challenge the theory that you can't make a silk purse out of sow's ear, but still shows up as fake and unoriginal, and could go either way in the second semi-final. With a coup de théâtre as clever as the one they put together last year it might do rather well, but Ruslan has never come across to me as someone who feels comfortable on the stage or, for that matter, with a microphone in his hand. I have yet to see or hear anything that suggests he will produce more than a merely passable performance on the night, and that may not be enough. Not when half of the points that might otherwise come the way of Belarus are stuck in the first semi-final.

Still, Hasta La Vista remains a bit of an unknown. In a couple of lines that reflect its metamorphosis, Ruslan sings "The story is close to the final cut / It won't be the end but a running start", and he could well be describing the song's chances of qualification. I suspect it may make it to the final, not entirely convincingly, and then do much better once it gets there, but it could just as easily fall flat on the Thursday night and go nowhere. It is inoffensive enough that I won't be bothered if it does qualify, damning it with faint praise though that may be. In any event, it is likely to do better in its current form than it would have had they left it untouched, so the electrotherapy and airbrushing will probably have been worth it either way.

02 May 2008

Czech Republic

Have Some Fun Tereza Kerndlová

As beginnings go, the Czech Republic's Eurovision debut in 2007 could not have been less auspicious. Though coming away with something on the scoreboard (and thus outdoing Lithuania, who ended last with no points on their first outing in 1994), they achieved the feat of garnering just a single point from 41 countries for the rather maladroit Malá Dáma and with it possibly the only 28th place that will ever be seen in the contest. Unperturbed, the country announced its intentions to make a comeback in Belgrade, promising that they had taken their experience in Helsinki on board and would be aiming for something more Eurovision-friendly as their second entry. No more long-haired men in tight jeans shouting in an obscure language. It would be pop, pop, pop all the way.

Unfortunately, Have Some Fun is the very essence of pop only if the genre is defined for you by 1987 and the likes of Sabrina and Samantha Fox. Milas Poli, the Cypriot entry in 1991, may be the closest we ever got to a Stock, Aitken and Waterman production in Eurovision, but the Czech entry in 2008 deserves special mention for sounding like it was recorded using the Calrec soundfield microphone that made the voices of so many PWL singers tolerably listenable. You only need to hear about a minute of this song to realise that Tereza Kerndlová couldn't sing her way out of a paper bag. She has other assets some viewers may appreciate, but one of the most obviously inadequate voices to reach the contest in years. I am prepared for three of the most cringe-inducing minutes we have seen in a long time when she is unleased, untweaked, on the European public.

Just as it is hard to maintain a bit of balance when you like a song, it is equally difficult when you struggle to find any redeeming features. I was fully convinced that my MP3 of Have Some Fun had something wrong with it until I heard the CD version from the official album, when I realised that it is the music itself that is so awkward. Now, I'm all for a minimalist composition, but not when the elements are so disparate and slapped together. The only time the arrangement starts to make sense is in the last two bars of the chorus and in the bridge, but the grating, omnipresent strings and the newly introduced balalaika (surely the least consistent and successful addition to any song this year) swallow everything before them. It doesn't help that the whole thing seems as though it's being powered by a hamster in a wheel, resulting in a very uneven sound.

The Czechs will be hoping for a better result with Have Some Fun than they achieved on their first try, but I'm not sure they're going to get it. Their debut may have been hard to like, but at least it wasn't bland, and this is both. I remarked in my review of Nomads In The Night that I wouldn't be surprised to see Lithuania coming last in the second semi-final, but if they are to be spared that ignominy I can only see it being at the expense of the Czech Republic.

30 April 2008

Switzerland

Era Stupendo Paolo Meneguzzi

Try as they might, there are some countries in Eurovision that rank among no one's friends. Like the gawky boy in the class who spends his entire school life staring out of the window, only occasionally on the same planet as his peers, they are outsiders, forming part of no definable group. Interaction is random, and even if they do sometimes show favour to a particular group or individual it is rarely returned. They are not quick to learn, and what they contribute often bears little relation to what everyone is doing. The fact that they turn up at all seems a matter of routine and is largely overlooked. They may show occasional flashes of brilliance, but these are seen as the exception to the rule and generally met with scepticism. At the same time, as the object of condescension, any attempts they make to apply themselves will usually be championed even if expectations are not high. And of the countries in the 2008 edition of the contest, none of them fits this bill quite as completely as Switzerland.

To say that the Swiss have had a chequered history in the contest since the introduction of televoting would be an understatement; prior to the introduction of the semi-final system they failed to end any higher than fourth last, and on its inauguration scored their biggest ever failure, earning a total of zero points from 32 countries for the ironically titled Celebrate! It would also overlook the fact that they have only made the top ten three times in the past twenty years whoever was voting for them. To an extent they only have themselves to blame, as they have chosen a number of dated and/or lacklustre songs over the years, but this in itself may be the result of constantly having to find a happy medium in a country where three major European languages and the people who speak them come together. Upsetting this balance is the fact that all but a handful of their top 5 results since the introduction of the douze system in 1975 have come from songs in French, making their choice of an entry in Italian this year - a language with which they last made the top ten 17 years ago - somewhat surprising.

That this could even come across as a bold move says a lot about the reputation Switzerland has in the contest, as does the incredulity among people regarding the support Paolo Meneguzzi and Era Stupendo continue to enjoy. The first of this year's entries to be announced and one of the earliest to be unveiled, it took no one by surprise for being old-school Eurovision, but rather for how solidly and pleasantly nostalgic the whole thing is - and while no one really expected it to be making much of an impression once the other 42 entries for Belgrade were known, it is still doing well for itself in fan polls. This, needless to say, is a double-edged sword: on the one hand, it suggests that there is something comfortable and inoffensive about the song, lending it a broad popularity across the continent which may translate to the contest itself; on the other, it is receiving more or less the same level of endorsement as the 2007 Swiss entry, Vampires Are Alive, which in the circumstances could be considered the kiss of death.

But then what do fans know? It's the mobile-wielding televoters of Europe who count, and whether or not Era Stupendo seems quite as wonderful to them as it does to many contest aficionados remains to be seen. In fact it may be those to whom mobile technology remains a mystery who decide the song's fate: not the most modern of entries among this year's bunch, there is something timeless and sincere about it, and very 1970s Eurovision for its childhood reminiscence and general sentiment. Then again, the efficiency of its arrangement, which makes the song very easy to listen to, may earn it kudos among those who like their music straightforward but still involving. What allows the song to be both - and what represents its greatest advantage over its nearest rival in the second semi-final, the equally dated but much more prim Hungarian entry - is its transformation from piano-led ballad to uptempo pop rock, which is well-timed and effected without any fuss.

Key to the success of the Swiss entry in Serbia will be Paolo Meneguzzi. Though far from the daydreaming dweeb everyone shuns, with smouldering and yet still boyish good looks that should provide three minutes of attractive television, he is nevertheless something of an unknown in terms of the performance he is likely to turn in. In Era Stupendo I feel he has a song that could easily take him places provided he gets it right, but by the same token its naive charms aren't likely to rub off on anyone if he gets it even slightly wrong. On the assumption that he earns his country a ticket to Saturday night's final I would expect the song to receive virtually unanimous backing among fans. I doubt he's in with much of a chance of being crowned head boy, but he may shake off Switzerland's well-worn image and find himself being voted most popular boy in the class.

Albania

Zemrën E Lamë Peng Olta Boka

One of the most interesting aspects of the run-up to Eurovision is witnessing the evolution of its entries and debating how a rearrangement here or a new set of lyrics there will affect the songs' chances. But as the flood of national final winners are revealed, there is always one that can be discounted from the get-go: the winner of Festivali I Këngës. Albania occupies a unique position in the contest by being the only competing country who gets to unveil its entry twice every year. Generally it is the earliest to be decided, in the dark days of winter, and then the last to be disclosed in its competition form, which is almost always the ESC definition of an extreme makeover. It's like discovering a completely new song.

The Albanian entry in Belgrade, Zemrën E Lamë Peng, bears a number of similarities to its predecessors in terms of how it has been redressed for the contest. Each over the last five years has ended up with a higher BPM than its original as a result of the three-minute rule - which has been expedient in its way, since the composers of all of the songs have been forced to look at them and decide how best to restructure (and in some cases rescore) them to convey the same message more succinctly. The 2008 entry has benefitted from this, with a clearer musical focus and a new vocal delivery that are more attuned to the lyrics. While the backing vocals and the harmonies of the original version were lush, stripping them away and placing the emphasis entirely on Olta Boka makes much more sense and adds a certain fragility that suits the song well.

Composer Adrian Hila and lyricist Pandi Laço will be hoping for more success with Zemrën E Lamë Peng than they achieved with their previous entries, 2005's Tomorrow I Go and 2007's Hear My Plea, and if qualification for the final is the extent of their aspirations they may well come away happy. Taking to the stage straight after the somewhat ham-fisted Lithuanian entry, which itself comes after a run of uptempo rock and pop, and immediately followed by a variety of more pedestrian offerings, the Albanian entry stands out. It has very little direct competition in the second semi-final; its nearest rivals - Hungary's Candlelight and Portugal's Senhora Do Mar (Negras Águas) - are both at the other end of the draw and arguably neither as subtle or sophisticated, something juries may notice even if no one else does. A lot of course will depend on the performance and how naturally and sincerely Olta comes across.

There are two factors though which suggest Zemrën E Lamë Peng may be in with a decent chance of a Saturday night encore, with or without jury support: 10 of the other 18 voting countries in the second semi-final have sent double figures Albania's way over the last four years; and Serbia's victory in Helsinki last year proved that you could still sing a powerful [if in this case more understated] ballad in a language other than English at Eurovision and triumph. In the event that they are rewarded for their efforts with one of those ten envelopes at the end of the second semi-final, the makeover will definitely have been worth it.

29 April 2008

Lithuania

Nomads In The Night Jeronimas Milius

Pointless though it may be, analysis of the draw for the running order is as much a part of the Eurovision experience for many fans as the contest itself. We extrapolate the statistics to within an inch of their life in an attempt to determine who's sitting pretty and who's been given a bum deal, despite the fact that it is only one of a number of variables and can never truly be relied upon in predicting how an entry will fare. However, it does show that a song's chances of success in Eurovision often come down to context. One of the biggest "how did that happen" moments since the introduction of the semi-finals was the unenviable downfall of the Dutch entry Without You in the 2004 final: having qualified in sixth it then plummeted to 20th place, shedding all but 11 of its original 146 points in the process. Some would say it was the result of performing early in the draw rather than last, but it probably had more to do with the German entry that followed (and trounced) it. Either way, it didn't work in context. And if any song in 2008 is certain to suffer a similar fate, it is the Lithuanian entry Nomads In The Night.

The reasons here are nevertheless slightly different. Whereas it was pure bad luck that Re-Union found themselves back-to-back with Max and Can't Wait Until Tonight, an entry that fell into roughly the same category as their own (and was clearly considered more voteworthy), Lithuania's problem is that Jeronimas Milius winning any kind of televote only really made sense in the context of the national final. Despite only beating Aistė Pilvelytė - who would likely be performing Troy On Fire in Belgrade in place of her former backing vocalist had she not fluffed the ending in the LRT TV studios in Vilnius - by a couple of hundred votes, there was something about his performance, combined with the lighting and stage design, that made it stand out. Transplanted to the contest itself, however, it is highly doubtful whether it will have the same effect, and not least because the only Lithuanians who might be tempted to vote for it out of duty are stuck in Ireland in the first semi-final.

Preceded by four songs and performances we can only assume will be much more immediate, Nomads In The Night is simply too awkward to earn widespread appeal. It takes more than two minutes to come together, coinciding with Jeronimas' voice being drowned out most effectively by the music; up to that point the vocal arrangement, though quite complex, just comes across as ungainly. Although some notes do tail off, he is never actually off key, and yet given how difficult it is at times to tell the difference it's much easier to presume that he is - as many people have done to date and are probably likely to do again on May 22. It doesn't help that the emotional tug of the song is overwhelmed by the (unintentional?) sense of it looking and sounding like a minor number from a forgotten 1980s musical adaptation of some obscure Brontë novel.

Not that I'm saying there's no room in Eurovision for minor numbers from forgotten musical adaptations of obscure Brontë novels -not if they're done better, or at least more accessibly - but as niche markets go in a contest designed to find a song everyone can relate to it pretty much takes the cake. Nomads In The Night wouldn't have felt out of place as Lithuania's debut entry back in 1994, but even then it still would have come across as dated. I certainly can't see it winning the jury wildcard (with all those synths? are you kidding?) and apart from a scattering of points thrown its way by Lithuanians who have wandered across the border into Latvia or Belarus I can't see it picking up support anywhere else either. In fact I wouldn't be at all surprised to see it earn them their second semi-final wooden spoon in four years - which in the context of the expanded contest is, I suppose, an achievement of sorts.