France

Et S'il Fallait Le Faire Patricia Kaas

"Je veux bien tout donner, si seul'ment tu y crois..."

It's no exaggeration to say that many great songs have been overlooked in Eurovision's history. Often the justification given by those clearly more enamoured of them than those who had the chance to vote on them is that they are "too good for the contest", whatever that means. It implies that the audience or juries are incapable of recognising quality or at least that they are unwilling to reward it, perhaps because of the level Eurovision is perceived to work on. The truth is generally closer to home: as good as a song might be, if it lacks that certain something on the night that grabs the voters and hangs on to them, all the quality in the world counts for very little. Admirable as it is, it won't win you the contest just because, and that's despite the stated purpose Eurovision serves - a lesson the French may learn in Moscow with Et S'il Fallait Le Faire.

Not that winning the whole shebang is in the forefront of every broadcaster's mind in entering the contest: many are content to contribute quality in an era when 'quantity' (i.e. performance and spectacle; more bang for your buck) plays perhaps a greater role in determining the outcome. There's certainly much to admire about Et S'il Fallait Le Faire, as a song and as an approach to Eurovision. Not only does it boast some typically wonderful French lyrics - far and away the most poetic and meaningful of the year - and an arrangement that works perfectly with what the song is saying, but in Patricia Kaas France 3 have given the contest what many, indeed most other countries either do not or cannot: one of their biggest stars. If Eurovision worked the way it ideally should, it would showcase 40 of Europe's biggest national music acts every year, with none of the cobbled together groups and 'specially written' entries that have earned the contest its dubious reputation. In this light, the fact that France could persuade a star of Patricia Kaas' stature to even consider taking part is a coup.

Which is not to say either she or Et S'il Fallait Le Faire should therefore automatically be handed victory on a plate; quite the opposite. With televoting still accounting for 50% of the result in Moscow, Mlle Kaas will have to prove to the people watching at home that she and her song are worthy of the hype that accompany them, since in any case she'll be just another singer to many. If she invests enough of herself in the performance to convince both the televoters and the juries, and to keep them convinced irrespective of the two dozen-odd songs that follow, France could well find themselves back at (or at least near to) the top of the scoreboard at the end of the voting. Which is probably a place they could have been at various times in recent years had they not failed to connect with the audience.

And let's face it, redemption is not at the top of televoters' lists of reasons to vote for a song or country at Eurovision. For Et S'il Fallait Le Faire to succeed among ordinary voters - for it is likely to fare better with the juries - they will actually have to like the song, and that may be its biggest sticking point. No song is too good for the contest, but some can be too good for their own good: an appreciation of the quality of an entry is not enough if it doesn't reach out and grab you, and move you, and make you want to hear it again. And as many people have admitted, Et S'il Fallait Le Faire is not the easiest song to like even if everything is telling you you ought to. For better or worse, Eurovision is designed to enthrall as much as it is to shine the spotlight on great music; only if the French entry does both will it achieve the result it arguably deserves.