So we've had our first national final of the year, and as tradition dictates it was the Albanians. But while many folk are celebrating a Happy FiKmas as a fan-favoured bit of derivative Fuego-lite took home the golden statuette, we lovers of the more esoteric entries will be mourning the loss of our old mate Kastro Zizo here.
Never known to undersell a song, this cultural polymath is known in his own land as the presenter of a philosophical talk show (alongside all his other showbiz side hustles), and he brought a deep, yet still fairly ambiguous lyric to sit alongside all the songs about the motherland, while dressed in a sharp suit and minimal corpse paint. Maybe this kind of thing makes perfect sense in Albania, but the levels of Twitter bewilderment from fankind throughout his performances this week was a joy to behold, as he seemed to deeply unsettle a continent of pop fans.
More of this kind of thing please, Albania. And everywhere else, for that matter.
Now we know that it's rare for us to post anything much with a Spanish flavour on here unless it's an absolute dog's breakfast, or a riot breaks out in the studio. But upon the release of the songs for Benidorm Fest we've found ourselves attracted to more than a few of the songs - and that's not happened since the old days of their gloriously random online experiment. We loved Blanca Paloma's trippy floaty song about water right off the bat, and have been hearing enticing snippets of the dreamy Tanxugueiras track for a few days now - although we can't for the life of us see who'd actually vote for it.
But Rayden's fabulous earthy ramble is the one that's got our goosebumps trembling the most. We've had an eye on this lad for a few years now, but never imagined that he'd ever grace anything with Eurovision germs on it. Starting out as a rapper, but now more of the kind of grumble-singer the Italians hold so dear, he's got a string of top ten albums behind him, and is really something of a catch for this contest. Indeed, he's such a self-contained star in his own right that we reckon that he'd resist whatever dog's breakfast of a staging that TVE tried to chuck at him.
He's not without concern, though. A few of the lyric lines for this song don't fare terribly well when pushed through Google Translate - but hopefully that's more the platform's issue than his - and he seems as though he won't take very much shit from anyone. Which could actually make things a little more exciting in Turin if he bags the ticket.
But despite his native popularity, he seems very much a love-him-or-loathe-him kind of an artist, and Spanish Eurovision fandom being what it is we fear they'll either send a considerably under par Azúcar Moreno or the formulaic pretty boys from Unique (clue: they're not). Or worse, one of the many, many watered down and washed out Fuego wish-they-weres.
But Spain mate, I know it's off piste, but if you really want to haul yourself at least to the top of the right hand side of the scoreboard - and in Italy of all places - then this is the one for you. I fear that you'll ignore our advances, but when have you ever been known not to sabotage your own chances, eh!
We were really hoping that this season's extended Eesti Laul competition would be a return to the bold and brave of days gone by, rather than the bland beige blancmange that it's recently become. Sadly we've had little such luck up to now, and the only song with any real life in it so far has been our old mate Meisterjaan here.
But where Unemati was creepy and unsettling, and Parmupillihullus was gloriously bonkers in the nut, Vahel Lihtsalt (Sometimes Just) is more of a think piece that only really works if you understand Estonia's beautiful moon language - although apparently it didn't even work there, as it couldn’t drag its way into the favoured five of a ten song contest.
And that's a shame, because in a competition that's generally stuffed with lyrics that sound like real sentences to non-English speakers but don't actually make any narrative sense, a song that includes the line "Vital depletion, Degradation, An approximation that will soon be armageddon, Master's diction emotionless ejaculation, Sometimes it's just like that" would have been a most welcome unhinged addition.
Just as we were fearful that last year's winner would encourage a whole barrage of witless pub rockers to throw their hats into 2022's Eurovision ring, we also had a vague hope that one or two of the more interesting noisy acts from around the continent might be lured to chance their arm and have a bit of fun. And Eskimo Callboy have been right near the top of our wishlist for some years now.
An established act with hits across Europe, and a cult following that spreads even further, their seamless blend of Hi NRG pop and crushing metalcore is going to confuse the heck out of the regular punters ("Well I like the first bit, but why do they have to do all that horrible shouting?"), but their on stage presence is phenomenal and they're 100% on top of their schtick.
However, they're not without their potential problems. Their band name can be considered offensive in a number of competing countries. and they've been accused of misogynistic themes in some of their videos. However, their blending of Japanese popcore themes with that knowing knockabout German wink suggests that the latter is more of a slice of camp self-deprecation than anything more unpleasant. We hope.
They've taken the unusual step of announcing their candidacy before they were even announced by the German telly - hoping perhaps to force the producers' hand in picking them. A risky move, of course. But one that may could dividends. Although to be honest, Germany should just bin their entire competition and send them direkt til Torino. Because you just know that they're going to be beaten in a superfinal by some underdog pop girly who'll subsequently finish last-but-one.
So come on Germany, so the right thing! There's something for everyone in this song!
The second we saw a triumphant Måneskin lifting the big glass microphone in Rotterdam earlier this year we just knew that the knock on effect was that we'd be lumbered with a slew of turgid pub rock bands all thinking that they had the key to recreating that magic moment just because they had a couple of lads with thinning hair waving their hands about in front of a guitar. We just weren't expecting it so quickly. Or indeed from Bulgaria.
Mrs Apocalypse described what this was going to sound like almost note for note just from the band's somewhat pompous name alone it's that bloody predictable - right down to the first person we see in the video wearing a flipping waistcoat. And despite having the ragged contents of every middle-aged rock club on Sofia on stage the sound is as piss weak as the kind of lemon squash our mums used to make us at the last few teatimes before pay day.
We've said elsewhere that the principle difference between Rock 'n' Roll and Rock music is sex. Last year's Italian victors had sex oozing out of their every pore - and the dirtiest kind imaginable. But this dreary excuse for a song is more like prize-giving night at a rural model railway club. In January.
And the worst thing of all is that, because I'm a man of a certain age with hair of a certain length, every bleeder's going to assume that I like it. No, no, scratch that. The worst thing is that this won't be the last we see of witless grandpa guitar plod thinking that they're going to emulate the winners of last year just because they've got a Foreigner album. There's going to be bloody loads of them, aren't there - and somehow this Bulgarian drear isn't going to be the worst of it.
Have you ever wondered what it would happen if you shoved Mélovin, Maruv and Sasha Bognibov into a great big blender and mushed them up with a couple of cartons of UHT milk? I know that we do all the time! But you have to wonder no longer, as Mister Curly here had done pretty much exactly that.
Marvel as this over-confident Ukrainian hopeful gyrates around in his bathroom - clearly keeping one nervous eye out in case his mum returns home early and catches him in the act - and over annunciates every last tortured syllable. It's the kind of thing that finishes last-but-three in one of the Home Composed Song Contests but has absolutely no idea why they did so badly. Yep, it's that special.
And yeah, we know, it's been a slow start to the Apocalypse season, but we reckon this is just the start of the avalanche of nonsense that we're likely to get now that we're getting back to relative normal. Woo hoo!
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The lad's removed the comical video from YT, so you're stuck with just the audio version I'm afraid. It's still pretty entertaining, mind.
Happy New Eurovision Year, lads and ladies. And have we got a proper, erm, treat to kick off the season.
A month or so ago a mysterious entity on Twitter started telling everyone who'd listen that they had the only song that could possibly win the contest for the UK. Obviously regular competition watchers thought they knew better, so I thought I'd have a chat with them, back stage, like. And boy were confident of their future success.
I must confess, the initial portents were bad. Using some version of Nil Point in the act's name or song title is a Eurovision trope so old that I think my nan had a go at it in the 1920s, but they were convinced that, being a public subscription service, dear Auntie Beeb would be practically forced to select the song if the tune went viral - which they fully and righteously expected that it would.
Now you can forgive our early cynicism, as it's the kind of thing that we hear year after year from plucky triers and Dunning-Kruger ne'er-do-wells. But we had to admire their pluck and confidence, and genuinely looked forward to hearing the fruit of their labours.
And finally, this evening, it's escaped. And oh my, it's really quite a thing.
Now we'll fully admit that our collective hearts sank a little in the first twenty seconds or so when we realised what was happening here. However, they did tell us in advance that the lyric would be fully understandable by everyone across the continent, and they're not wrong there. But as the minutes ticked on it started to get under our skin, and by the end we had to applaud it for the utterly gleeful nonsense that it was. At least we think that's what it was.
If this had turned up in a Baltic quarter-final we'd be proclaiming this as a cult classic by now. But I suspect that Mr Man-Intheoffice at BBC Ents HQ will give it no more than half a minute - max - and go back to stroking his swan... of whatever it is they do at Broadcasting House.
I'm still not entirely sure that this isn't some elaborate wind up - but they've certainly spunked some money on the production if it is, so you kind of have to admire them for that. My tip to Nil Points UK, if they are straight up, is to get on the blower to Pabandom iš Naujo! and see if they fancy a go on it. It's go Twosome written all over it - so to speak.
With the Belarussian regime clearly using this year's Eurovision Song Contest to try and prove a political point and sending both a song and an act that were never going to meet the favour of the rest of the continent, it's still unclear whether they are going to be appearing at this year's competition in any form. So a group of musicians from the country have created a Eurovision entry in exile for their troubled country, and it's a bit stunning.
You may remember Shuma from their beautifully dark piece of folk electronica called Hmarki from the 2018 Belarussian final. Now in exile in Ukraine they've put together a sparse and chilling hymn to the current state of their nation, based around an old folk song where a woman asks the gods to ward off trouble from the neighbouring land.
The video that accompanies it is both bleak and beautiful, and includes a stark message to those outside of Belarus at the end. As it's increasingly looking like there will be no official entry from the country this year, maybe we should all consider this to be actual, albeit unofficial entry for the country this year. It wouldn't be eligible for any points, obviously, but it would be a more than welcome addition to the canon in this of all years.
Music is always political, no matter what you're singing about, and I reckon this is a fitting end to this year's season on Apocalypse. Thanks for staying with us in this most wonky of all Eurovision years.
Ooh now Malta, what have you gone and done now! This year as each new song has ticked by we've been inclined to think "Yeah, that's not bad - we're in for a good year here" but nothing had given us the germs of truly winning potential. Until this afternoon. It's almost as if Destiny has sucked up all the scraps from the returning artists who weren't quite as good as they were last time, mixed them all up into a pot and cast them into this little thing of bountiful wonder.
It's upbeat, positive and effortlessly full of character where others are trying just that little bit to hard. And we all know what a likeable and capable performer our Destiny is too. If we were Maltese we'd be getting just a little bit excited right now. We were on the island the first time they held Junior and the place nearly exploded with delight then. Who knows what would happen if they bagged the senior gong too.
Of course, there's going to be all sorts of bumps in the road between now and then, with shows to be built and reputations to be damaged - and of course who knows if Belarus haven't got a surprise belter up their sleeve (Clue: they probably haven't) - so it's still too early to call. But if this doesn't finish in at least the top five come May we'll either be incredibly surprised, or something that none of us saw coming has pulled something incredible out of the bag.
Most of us with little more than a passing knowledge of Tornike's career will mainly know him for his singular vocal style whereby he just kinda shouts in a controlled but still kind of noisy style. Which is why the song that he's chosen for this year's Eurovision is all the more flipping lovely.
Gentle, measured, but still building to moments of great power, it's the kind of song that would have been left out of a Who rock opera or a Primal Scream remix album, but that the producer kept on his own personal hype reel all the same. There's not much to it, but the heartfelt emotion is almost chewable, and Tornike's stoic delivery draws you right into the very centre of the story.
It's not a song that we can see doing an awful lot of business on the big night - especially if the lad is as intense on that Rotterdam stage as he appears in pretty much any video we've ever seen him perform in. But to be honest we're not terribly bothered about that. We're just glad he's here, and that he's delivered us this beautiful bit of unassuming loveliness. Quiet music for noisy people - yeah, that's it.
We're struggling to get our lobes around the fact that it's the last national final of the season tonight. I'm sure that last time we looked there were only about ten songs selected! And what's been the strangest of all seasons is going to end up with the most curious of Melfests. All squeezed up into an area that we used as a press conference hall back in 2000, what the songs have lacked in spark and originality, the production has more than made up for in creativity. Just a quick look at some of the sets for the likes of Danny Saucedo, Eric Saade , and even Charlotte Perrelli in her way shows that they've really though about their limitations and tried to make the best use of space for each individual song.
A shame then that they seemed to have run out of ideas when it came to poor Clara Klingenström here. "Oh, she's one of those indie types. Put her in a short shiny dress and big boots like all them riot grrrls used to wear in the nineties - that'll work. No wait! You know what'll make it even more authentic? Hang a guitar around her neck and let her wave her hands around awkwardly in front of it. Bingo! It'll be just like watching * rummages through Courtney love biography * Babes In Toyland or someone!"
All of which is a shame, because this is easily one of the strongest actual songs in the contest. Where all the rest feel like they were created by committee and focus grouped to within and inch of their respective lives, this one feels like the real deal and that it's coming straight from Clara's heart. And despite being lumbered with a great big stringy plank hanging needlessly around her neck, she performs the absolute life out of it. It's uplifting, atmospheric and just really nice.
We've also noticed that it seems to be pretty much everybody's second favourite song this year, despite having to drag itself out of the Andra Chansen. So it couldn't go on and do a Stjernberg could it? With all the big names she's up again we very much doubt it, but we really wouldn't be terribly upset if she did.
Ooh now, Macedonia (North)! You've gone and snuck in around the back door and lumbered us with something a bit special, haven't you. We've been saying for a few days now that there have been so many big beaty songs in this contest that if someone weighs in with a large old anthem they could very easily nick rather a lot of the top points on offer. And while this one might not be quite that song, it's certainly on the verge of special!
Sou ding like it's been wrenched straight off the stage of an unspecified musical (and that's not ALWAYS a bad thing), it's thespy enough, but still instantly relatable in times like these. Then it builds and falls, ebbs and flows, until that massive multi-layered proto prog bit at the end. Very interesting indeed.
The big old male ballads have suffered a bit at the hands of both the punters are the juries over these last few years, so it's difficult to fully assess quite how this will do, but we're visualising a lot of love for this one across the board. One to keep an interested eye on, to be sure.
What is it about the Czechs and their radio constantly bogarting the UK's song releases, eh? We've got this lovely reveal set up on Ken Bruce, and there they them Bohemians go again and sneak it out early. So seeing as they've done it, we figured we might as well. If you don't want to hear it until the official release, we suggest hanging on until after eleven, if you can.
So what is it like then. Well the first thing you'll be pleased to hear is that it's not entirely shit. That's always the first yardstick to be used when trying to assess a UK entry. It's bring, it's breezy, and it's got a little bit of singalongability about it. It's still a smudge more Radio 2 than Radio 1, but you can still imagine hearing it pumping out of your crystal set on a sunny afternoon. It's got that big choral backing that everyone seems to be having a pop at this year, and some hooky little parpy trumpets too. So all is at least looking promising.
However, it's still got something about it that doesn't automatically drag us onto the imaginary dancefloor with our hands in the virtual air. That intangible, almost indefinable UK-at-Eurovision sheen. It also sounds as if lovely James Newman is gasping for air at points in the song - and if he's like that in the studio we have our fears over what he might be like on the big stage. Hopefully it's a deliberate production choice rather than an actual shortcoming with his voice.
But when all is said and done, it's still pretty decent. The competition might not be coming home, as a few commentators are suggesting (what, Lugano?), but I reckon with the wind in the right direction we can drag ourselves into that big chunk of about a dozen songs in the middle for who a few extra points can mean all the difference in table position when it comes to the final reckoning. And of course, the big fella's clear natural charm is going to win more than a few over on its own.
End of first term report? A definite and positive move in the right direction, and hopeful and indication fo good things to come. But just don't get too over excited about the scoreboard, folks.
Oh my days, Belarus have just done a strange! After all the talks of whether their ticket to Rotterdam would be going to past-contestants, a tawdry exercise in cultural appropriation or even our lovely old pal Daz Sampson, it's actually been decided that they're going to send this curious little ditty.
On face value there's nothing at all wrong with it. Normal looking bloke sits on a stool on what looks like the Minsk version of the Blue Peter studio and jangles out a happy tune of hope and stuff. But then you suddenly get to remembering that this is 2021, and half of the rest of the continent have sent overblown bangers.
It's the kind of thing an angry English songwriter would send us with a note saying "The BBC are fools, this would have won Eurovision for sure" before ranting something about politics, Brexit and nul points. It's all very nice and all, but we're still having real trouble trying to work out why it's actually here. Who sat in a big television office somewhere in the capital and decided "Yeah, that's the one! You watch us go now!"? Or perhaps that's the trick - while everyone is being all bombastic, sneak in behind them all with something floaty nice and delightful and nick the gong. It's a tactic I suppose.
Still, has anyone translated the lyric yet?
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Ooh now. It's already transpiring that they've got some seriously dodgy lyrics in some of their past work, and their band name translates as Voices Of Content - anyone else getting a bad feeling about this?
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Yep, turned out that the lyric was dodgy as feck, and the EBU have warned them to change it, bin it, or risk being DQ'd. Good work, the EBU!
So it turned out that this morning's little bit of Little Big excitement was nothing more than wishful thinking, and Russia did, after a fashion, have a national final. They did, however, have last year's victors-in-waiting on to have a run-through of Uno, and although we couldn't entirely work out what was being said, Ilya came up front afterwards and explained something with a sad look on his face while the rest of the band kept their poses from the end of the performance frozen - which me must say was a bit of a strange spectacle in itself. More fool them for not picking Sex Machine, I say!
So anyway, what we did get was three songs of variable content. The first was a serious looking chap with a pleasingly bleak little number. The we had a couple of ladies jigging about inconsequentially before the reason, we suspect, that we were all convened here this evening turned up and knocked us all for six.
Anyone else think it's a coincidence that they held the final on a Monday night that just happened to be International Women's Day? Yeah, that was either utterly blatant or so innocent that it's halfway believable. But whatever the intentions, I reckon they've done and picked themselves a pretty decent replacement for our thwarted video heroes, and the lass Manizha has enough sass and swagger to carry a massively complex song like this with ease. There's a good chance that it will transpire that this is some kind of moderately dubious nationalist statement, but what the heck - on face value it was easily the best song of the three, so it deserved its win.
It still ain't Little Big though, curse it. Major major missed opportunity there.
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Hold that thought, for it turns out that our Manizha here is of Tajik descent, and is very good at kicking ass and getting important stuff done - as you can see in the link below. Quite whether she's singing to all women of Russia, or has been co-opted in to water down her message, remains to be seen, but the portents are good!
