The songs are beginning to sneak out for Romania's Selecția Națională, and the first handful that flew the coop were pretty unremarkable affairs. Of course, we had the perennial Mihai's ever-decreasing slide down the dignity ramp to kick off with, and a couple of fan-written regulars groaning formula tunes with little lustre, like you always expect early doors. And then this popped into my inbox. Oh my. Yes, oh my – because what it's lacking in song it's certainly making up for in pure filth.
Tune wise, it's a half-decent minimal East Balkan skip beat workout of the sort that's clogging the charts around those shires at the moment, and while being no worldbeater, it has a cracking, if oft repeated dropout running throughout. But the video. Oh. My. Days.
As a middle-aged man of a certainly sexuality this is supposed to be right up my street, but heavens, it's terrifying. I'm still uncertain as to whether it's showing us strong, independent women displaying their sexual being entirely on their own terms, or simply the product of a pervy male director filling his lens for his own private stash. But by heck to they give it some jelly (as I believe the kids may have used to have said) as they gyrate around those rather unstable looking rocks. And prepare yourself for one of the most unsettling uses of a pineapple in all non-porn history. Full marks for the confrontational blue lippy, mind!
One suspects that the song is a tad too understated and groove-based to get anywhere in a big telly contest, but one is curious as to how they're going to deliver it live. It could be, as Wogan used to splutter through his fifth Baileys of the night, one for the dads.