As fans of Eurovision we often do the songs that enter the contest a great disservice in our rush to label them. On the basis of a leaked demo version or raw staging on some late show months before the event we pigeonhole things as 'boring ballads' and 'join-the-dots pop' when they might in fact be engaging, well-constructed anthems or floorfillers that are much more complex than they first appear. Given their perceived prevalence this year, it is no suprise then that so many of the songs for Serbia have had 'joke entry' stamped all over them, but this is perhaps the most misleading and unflattering label of them all. 'Novelty entry' would perhaps be more appropriate, since it allows a much broader interpretation: 'novelty' as in 'fun and entertaining' and 'novelty' as in 'something new'. However, only one of this year's songs really goes left-field for reasons of artistry rather than laughs, and that is the entry from Bosnia & Herzegovina.Start talking about artistry in the context of Eurovision though and you run the risk of being shot down in flames and either yourself or the song in question (or both) being subject to the further label of 'pretentious'. Thankfully, whatever their views of the song itself, most fans seem to realise that grouping Pokušaj with the likes of Leto Svet, Baila El Chiki-Chiki and Wolves Of The Sea is doing it an injustice. Recognising that there is something artistic happening in the song does not mean denegrating those you seek to separate it from; it just means accepting that the person who wrote it actually has something to say, whether we get it or not.
Pokušaj is one of those rare songs that works in both its native language and English*. The lyrics of both versions are far from the run-of-the-mill rhyming dictionary structures that usually accompany Eurovision songs, presenting the listener with ideas and images that will actually make you think, if you let them. Citing local musical lore, the chant that introduces the Bosnian version (and which is rightly retained for the English version) draws you into the song with the sense of a narrative about to unfold. And so it does, in both languages. I tend to prefer the English, at least for what is ostensibly the 'chorus', and though I have heard that the song will be performed completely in Bosnian in Belgrade, I hope the team behind it realise that it has something to say in English as well.
Some would say that the performance speaks for itself, but that is not as true of this song as others - what happens on stage is an interpretation of what the song is trying to say rather than the personification of it, which is why I feel that delivering part of it in English would stand it in better stead. There's the risk that if it's not, televoters will just see it as some kooky guy singing an unorthodox song in a weird language with bizarre staging. This could well press their buttons I suppose, if that's all they expect from Eurovision, but there is art aplenty in Pokušaj and it would be a shame for it to go unnoticed.
Having said that, my fears may well prove unfounded. One of the things that most struck me about the song when I first heard it was the dexterity of the composition and, from about the halfway mark onwards when it cranks up a gear, just how much it sounds like something Muse or Keane or some other British piano rock group might come up with. Whether or not I am alone in this association I don't know, but I'm hoping the music alone is enough to open the song up to a wider audience than a Balkan entry might otherwise receive. The arrangement is stunning and certainly worthy of recognition: a blend of individually subtle elements, the cornerstones of which - the piano, strings and guitar - are laid in the opening minute of the song before coming together to form a whole that truly is greater than the sum of its (nevertheless invaluable) parts.
Yes, I know, I guess I'm breaking my own rule here and getting a little too effusive to call myself 'objective', but Pokušaj is my favourite song in this year's contest precisely because it has so much quality to offer. I can't say I'm convinced this is something everyone will appreciate, although I am buoyed by the fact that despite having similar misgivings last year about my 2007 favourite, the Georgian debut Visionary Dream, I was largely proven wrong. I certainly hope to see Laka and Bosnia & Herzegovina doing just as well in Belgrade as Sopho did in Helsinki, if not better, as their song is really quite brilliant. I'm aware that's a label as much as any other, but at least it is a considered one.
*Another example that springs to mind is Karolina's Od Nas Zavisi, the English version of which is pure poetry.
1 comment:
I must admit when I heard Bosnia were taking the alternative route this year, I was expecting something goofy and ungainly, more akin to what Estonia has ended up producing perhaps. Full marks to Laka for demonstrating in no uncertain terms that eccentricity and lyricism do make decent bedfellows. In terms of its unconventionality and vaguely nightmarish fairytale sensibility, the only Eurovision reference point I can come up is Nina Morato meets Alf Poier. What I admire most is the feeling that Laka is just following his muse rather than making a conscious attempt to "do Eurovision". Perhaps that's why there seem to be such rewarding hidden depths to the rustic Alice in Wonderland world he's drawing us into.
However, I still find myself unable to climb on the Bosnian bandwagon and it's Laka's voice and to some extent his persona that are to blame. There's a weedy tunelessness about his performance that forms an insurmountable barrier for me. I am extremely glad to hear he'll be strutting his stuff in his native language, as I found some the English lyrics very hard to take. There's a drippy hippy quality to much of them that drags the whole thing into Neil of the Young Ones territory for me. The final would indeed be so much better for having something this original and downright different in the line-up, but I'm by no means convinced we'll have the pleasure...
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