The generic Eurovision Song Contest 2007 wrapup

Monday 14 May 2007

Eurovision night was spent at home in a faint haze of cabernet sauvignon, stilton, and pseudoephedrine, so this year’s wrapup is a bit on the sketchy side. The code in brackets at the end of each entry denotes the drinking game tally.
The show begins with a warning about flashing images, in case there are any Japanese school children watching and the stage is overrun with Pokémon. Then the slogan “True Fantasy” appears across the screen for no evident reason, so maybe this is going to turn into anime after all.
The male and female presenter couple are present and correct.
Bosnia-Herzegovina: Slow start tonight, with several women vamping around in the sort of pale green fog that threatened to irradiate Jon Pertwee on Dr Who. That bloke with the bazouki looks really pissed off with the singer about something. Come to think of it, they all look like they had a tremendous row just before coming on stage. (1: WM)
Spain: Four guys in white denim outfits and two girls pretending to play oversized drums out of time with the music: two classic Eurovision clichés. I can’t believe they don’t complete the set by taking off their jackets. Presumably they forgot, in all the excitement. (3: E?, DKC, WM)
Belarus: Ignore the fat chick at the edge of the stage doing all the singing! Please be distracted by the women in suits sliding back and forth on office partitions doing slow, jerky dance moves copped from Laurie Anderson. Belarus’ designated pretty boy sings about how he’s wheeling something, from the sound of it. (0)
Ireland: Oh dear. Oirish bobbleheads haplessly sway back and forth, clearly at a loss as to how best convincingly mime their instruments. The singer’s intonation and vocal power is uncannily reminiscent of Julie Dawn; she later tries to build some stage presence by ripping off Grandma Boonika’s star drumming turn a couple of years ago. She fails. (2: WM, CR)
Finland: A solid-looking goth diva announces that she’s “gotta go crazy just to stay sane.” Yeah, well I gotta get drunk just to stay sober, so the room decides that goth is as close as anyone dares get to ripping of Lordi tonight, so Finland is deemed guilty of self-plagiarism. Harsh but alcoholic. (2: CRx2)
Five songs in, and both hosts have changed their outfits! (3) This could get dangerous. A bafflingly pointless charade ensues where the two hosts pretend to randomly pull a Eurovision Fan, i.e. a shrill woman in a pink party frock, out of the audience to act as a third host. Ah, Eurovision! Always finding new ways to irritate the crap out of you.
Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia: Someone sings a boring ballad under fraught circumstances. Behind, a young man selflessly restrains a feral ballerina who means to knock the singer down and claim the limelight for herself. Meanwhile, three people on stools guard the stage perimeter to keep the Serbs out. (1: E?)
Someone in the audience is waving a Portuguese flag. Ha ha! You blew your money!
Slovenia: Another chunky goth diva! Everyone’s going a bit goth here, but then the filmed segments introducing each song would like you to think that Finland is simply filled with (a) snow and (b) goths. She’s singing that operatic swooping over a techno beat that every hacky sci-fi movie and Malcolm McLaren would have you believe is the Next Big Club Hit. For added effect, she lights up her face with one of those little palm-lights she copped from Laurie Anderson. (2: CR, SR)
Hungary: Another chunky woman – for once, not in a leather bustier – leans on a bus stop sign stolen from Sesame Street and sings the blues in Hungarian. She pats her stomach in a missed attempt to find her heart. Perhaps she’s hungry. I can’t make out the slogan on her tank top: “Thank God I’m —-” Hungarian? Atheist? Dyspeptic? Not French? (0)
Lithuania: You should have guessed by now that a group called 4FUN (a) has not four members but five, and (b) is not fun. As predicted, a moody and mildly depressing ballad, with a hint of Spanish via Bryan Adams. Behind the singer, the rest of the band play in silhouette behind a screen, in a move copped from Laurie Anderson; although this may be to disguise the fact that they’re really the Latvian entrants doubling up. (0)
Someone is the audience is waving a placard saying “Where is Andorra?” No, no, no! It’s supposed to say “Where is Moldova?
Greece: A man in a stripey suit that strobes horribly on TV does the traditional Greek Pat Benatar shimmy with a gaggle of frankly trashy women. He’s singing in English but drops the word “Yassou” in every now and then so you don’t mistake him for Ricky Martin. Considering that he sings the line “Dancing like a Cheeky Girl”, he’s more likely to be mistaken for Lembit Opik MP. At the end they copy that “pulling the ropes out of the singer’s clothes” move pioneered by the Turks a few years ago: either a sign of reconciliation in the east Mediterranean or a declaration of war. (3: E?, CR, SR)
Georgia: A girl in a nice red frock is surrounded by Ninja Cossacks, which is less fun than it sounds. She bellows over a techno track swiped from the free CD that came with the October 1989 issue of Studio Musician Monthly, and then it’s over. (0)
Sweden: It’s a pity Justin Hawkins didn’t get up as the UK entry this year, ‘cos this outdoes him for ironic glam cheese. I think the Swedes have secretly been at war with the British for decades, by remorselessly taking the piss out of every aspect of their popular culture. They’re crap and they’re ugly; in other words, a perfect recreation of a real glam rock band. Still a bit gothy, though. At last, the first Bucks Fizz move of the night! (1: BF)
Half Time: After their shock quarter-time wardrobe change, the hosts keep us guessing by wearing the same clothes! Outside the hall, the Eurovision Fan goes to the trouble of finding some more Eurovision fans, only to laboriously explain to us why she’s not allowed to interview them, thus answering a question no-one watching had asked. Still, that ate up a minute of commercial airtime.
France: Five television comedians who have obviously never worked together before frantically try to steal the limelight from each other in the mistaken belief that one of them will get voted out of the band at the end of the show. Was there some English in this song? I think so. It didn’t help. (1: E?)
Latvia: They sing in Italian, just to confuse us, and to secure the vote from the Italians, who neither compete in nor watch Eurovision. Five blokes in jeans, dinner jackets and top hats wander in like junior execuitves turning up at the office on Il Divo Friday. They clutch roses, they sing, they go away. (1: DKC)
Russia: Three Manezh Mall Rats form a Chrissie Amphlett fanclub and sing a song about being Manezh Mall Rats. Their two fat friends from school are allowed to join the club too, but they have to stand up the back. Also hiding up the back is a guy pretending to play guitar, who is really there to beat up anyone who eyes up his bitches too much. (0)
Germany: At last, a proper white suit. It’s a swing number, and everyone tries to look cool instead of dementedly happy: see what we mean? Once again the Germans have found an excuse to put a double-bass on stage, but unlike last year this one is a civilian. The word “ROGER” appears in lights behind the stage, which at first glance I mistake for an audience cue. Oh, those Scandanavians! (2: E?, WS)
Serbia: Every lesbian’s ex-girlfriend from hell comes on to sing the slow, tuneless ballad known from Aragon to Arkhangelsk as the Toilet Break Song (future me: whoa, did I get this one wrong!), and she has a posse of Ruritanian ambassadors from Planet Zsa Zsa to join her in some pinpoint choreography consisting of standing together and staring at the floor really hard. For the climactic key-change her passion moves her to remove her glasses. At the end, She and one of her dead-eyed minions do this creepy loveheart hand gesture – yeah, just like your sociopathic ex. (2: BF, DKC)
Ukraine: Campy blokes in Alfoil and granny glasses recreate a gay fascist disco cabaret in your living room for three minutes. They sing in German, which makes no sense whatsoever until you remember that the Germans used to do this kind of self-consciously zany stuff at Eurovision all the time up until about, oh, five years ago. They run around on stage and smack each others’ bottoms – this is so German. I thought Operation Barbarossa failed. (2: E? DKC)
The hosts reappear to confuse and enrage us by wearing the same clothes!
United Kingdom: It’s a pity Justin Hawkins didn’t get up as the UK entry this year, ‘cos this is even worse. Hah! The Ukrainians just outgayed you, UK. And they did a better Benny Hill schtick. And their English made more sense. Dressing up as fabulous air stewards and miming the in-cabin safety procedures may add a rare note of educational value to the show, but it’s probably not a good idea to remind viewers mid-song (a) that they can leave any time they wish, and (b) of the futility of resisting inevitable, violent death in a fiery plane wreck. It isn’t really Bucks Fizz in that bottle they’re waving around, it’s Eau de Desperation. (3: CRx2, BF (bottled))
Romania: Now there’s some wandering minstrelsy! In a misguided attempt to ingratiate themselves with voters, five blokes aimlessly fanny around on stage, bumping into each other and singing each line of the song in a different language. Unfortunately, they get carried away and sing in French too, blowing their chances of winning. (2: WM, E?)
Bulgaria: Yeah, drumming, that’s different! Everyone thinks this is finally going to be the year no-one else will go for the drumming and so their act will stand out. A flat (in both senses) chick goes for the goth looks but wears the wrong type of trousers. They try to get some tribal thing going, which is impossible when there’s only two of you. (1: CR)
Turkey: Year after year, Turkey has reliably sent us some hot chick to ogle; this year we now know why they’ve never sent guys. This man has the apperance, as he has the clothes, of some one who hangs around the front of hotels in Istanbul in the hope a tourist mistakes him for an employee. Apparently the backup belly dancers are British, which explains why they’re (a) not so hot and (b) have no bellies to dance with. A failure on every level, but it’ll get them through to next year’s finals thanks to the gastarbeiter vote. (1: FC)
Armenia: A mess of people in different outfits who had trouble translating the “come dressed as a goth” memo. Either a Turkish fan threw a ripe mulberry at the singer or he’s got a squib under the his ruffled shirt, because during the second chorus a dark red stain spreads across his collarbone in a missed attempt to find his heart. Is there some Eurovision rule against anatomically correct singing gestures? First the great Alf Poier crotch-grab fiasco of 2003 (which cost him the prize, I reckon), now this. (1: DKC)
Moldova: Every girl in Europe wants to be Amy Lee. Look, this one’s already sacked her band! Her crack team of wannabe goth divettes hurl scarves, for all the good that’ll do them. (2: E?, DKC)
The voting: The hosts are still wearing the same outfits when they announce the voting, but she’s changed her hairstyle (1). The voting session is officially started by Finland’s biggest celebrity: a goth! No, just kidding: Santa Claus. At least he does a better job of things than Nana Mouskouri.
At last, after the voting has finished, the presenters change their clothes again (3). “Things are getting very exciting!” they shout. They’re wrong. The Serbian Toilet Break Song wins and I still can’t remember anything about it. Everyone grumbles about bloc voting by the Balkans and former Soviet states, but France, the UK, and Ireland came last, which is only fair considering they were the worst of the lot. The only real surprise is that Malta gives 12 points to that dire British effort, but that may have been a tactical “fuck you” to the Eastern bloc for dumping them out of the semifinals on Thursday. Good night.