While not the disaster area it has been made out to be, there is still room to argue that Zauvijek Volim Te may have been more appropriately titled Vrijeme Ja Uzalud Gubim*. You would probably be forgiven for thinking it was the first song of the 1988 Eurovision Song Contest rather than the opening number of 2008, as it seems that nowhere in Europe is pop rock cherished as 'timeless' rather than derided as 'dated' as much as it is in the Balkans - if years of national finals (and more than a few actual entries) are anything to go by.As one of the last countries to select and thus unveil their entry, Montenegro featured regularly in my prayers for an entry that would topple Serbia and take the ethnic crown. The choice of Stefan Filipović buoyed my hopes - a young guy with a good voice - and when it was revealed that the composer and lyricist behind his entry were the Macedonian team of Grigor Koprov and Ognen Nedelkovski, who gave us last year's Mojot Svet, I felt my prayers were about to be answered.
They were not. Indeed, if I had actually believed in God, my faith would have been tested to breaking point. All I could do as I watched Stefan and his backing vocalists shuffle about the screen was shake my head and think: how could this have been the best thing on offer? There wasn't anything intrinsically wrong with it, as straightforward songs without much of a hook go, but it displayed such a lack of ambition that I couldn't even find it in myself to pity it.
My other kneejerk reaction was to criticise it for what I perceived to be its utter failure to comprehend what Eurovision is meant to be about. I had assumed that after sending a young man with a similar number (and hairstyle) to Helsinki as their debut entry and coming away with very little to show for it - and bearing witness to the kind of songs and performances that were seeing its neighbours hoover up points - they would return to the drawing board and come up with something more 'appropriate'.
That was the point at which I caught myself. After all, there is little or nothing that can truly be considered inappropriate for Eurovision, especially when such labelling is often so objective. My decision to reappraise the song coincided with the release of its rejigged and presumably final version, which I did my best to approach without prejudice.
And I was rewarded: the new composition is much more layered. Bringing the strings to the fore in the chorus was a wise move, contributing to the new sense of momentum the song as a whole enjoys. This in turn helps to reinforce the structure, which now becomes textbook stuff in a good way. Plus the backing vocals show a lightness of touch at times that suits the stronger delivery elsewhere (and the nature of the lyrics) very well. All in all, a pretty successful makeover.
And yet it remains so very unremarkable. Looking at it out of context it is a solid enough three minutes of pop rock, but in competition with 18 other songs it is almost certain to be overlooked, not least because it lends itself to a static performance very much in the vein of 'Ajde Kroči. It will probably be well received by the largely Serbian audience on the night, and I expect Stefan to sing well, but I would say its chances of qualifying for the final - courtesy of televoters or jury - were modest at best.
*I'm Wasting Time
