The joint high point of my year has been and gone – the Eurovision Semi-Finals. It is second only to the arrival of the Bravissimo catalogue when my wife is away.
The parade of delusional, slightly mentally ill pop performers is always a firm date in the diary – I cancelled my dinner with the West Sussex Rotary Club to be on the sofa for this years fest. And, more importantly for my devoted readers, I shall give you a brief rundown of the runners and riders so you don’t have to watch it…
So here goes:
Iceland. ‘Rōa’ by Vaeb.
Two underage blonde rent-boys dressed in cast-off costumes from Space 1999 (google it kids) shout a bit and do what I believe they call ‘rapping’, which is fine if you hail from South Central LA, but quite aurally painful in squeaky Icelandic. They are also on a boat and there is a Bobby Casey (google him kids) style fiddle solo. I was not aware of the strength of the Icelandic fiddle community, I thought they just killed whales and shagged a lot on vodka.
My education is sated by their efforts, and I take comfort knowing that if they had attended my secondary school in Newport they would have had the living shit beaten out of them every single day.
The song also has fourteen different writers, all with huge unpronounceable names that take up the screen like the credits to Ben Hur (google it kids).
Poland. ‘Gaja’ by Justina Steczkowska.
Unfortunately Justina chooses to dress like a reasonably priced prostitute from Hull. She also looks around sixty eight years old. I worry for her chances.
Her number is an electroclash monster where the chorus is cleverly kept simple by Justina simply screaming and running around. If I was off my tits on Durban Poison I would have probably considered it on a par with the first Suicide LP (google it kids), but I’m not; so it simply hurts.
The little intro film – always the best moment – was Justina in her plastic dominatrix outfit shovelling snow! I shit you not.
Slovenia. ‘How Much Time Do We Have Left?’ by Klemen
Oh God no. This is wrong. His wife had cancer and this is the song about the whole ‘journey’. I’m fucking delighted she’s absolutely fine now, I really am, but this is laying your personal life bare in front of 120 million pissed gays dressed in polyester. What an odd thing to do by choice. Google the lyrics, he means it and good luck etc but they are risible, and more importantly I’ll wager my right one that his wife thinks it’s shite.
Spain. ‘Esa Diva’ by Melody.
Quite simply, she sounds very drunk. She is wearing a Spanish hat and there’s a smattering of flamenco guitar in there. I love Spain very much but could only take 15.5 seconds.
Ukraine. ‘Bird Of Prey’ by Ziferblat
Are we agreed that the sympathy vote is history now that Trump has decreed that nobody gives a fuck about the poor sods anymore? And it’s all their fault they were invaded anyway.
This effort is not going to help the cause as it involves a huge nonce dressed like Barry Manilow on angel dust and a girl who sings exactly as one would with something big and sharp inserted into the anus. The drummer is, however, a monster – like Simon Kirke or John Bonham (google it kids) – and deserves his own personal Eurovision. And he’s thrashing his kit in a green jumpsuit. Respect.
Sweden. ‘Bada Bada Basta’ by Kaj
The dreaded and cursed phrase ‘bookies favourite’ was wheeled out before this very odd performance.
The lads are dressed as lumberjacks and bounce around a campfire with smiles and accordions. I want to set fire to them, but just as my anger is subsiding they have the temerity to line-up and do the Jackson 5 ‘dip and wave’ routine from ‘I’ll Be There’. Fuckers…
Portugal. ‘Deslocado’ by Napa.
This offering is wetter than the whispery girl bank adverts and has the worst piano sound in recorded history. However, their great hair might pull a few votes from the undecided and their matching white trousers are… um… interesting.
They claim their influences are The Red Hot Chili Peppers and The Arctic Monkeys; which is a little like Abbess Hildegard of Bingen (google it kids) confessing to being a huge Motörhead fan.
Guitar Porn Note: the guitarist has a Fender Telecaster in entirety the wrong colour. So wrong….
Norway. ‘Lighter’ by Kyle Allessandro.
Another rent boy hits the Eurovision stage – or he will be in a year or so, as this is one of the ‘so-bad-you-listen-until-the-end’ numbers. He is dressed as an extra in Game Of Thrones and is singing in a made-up language. Occasionally he bursts into English and hollers ‘Nothing can burn me now, I’ll be my own lighter.’
Is he planning a protest like the Buddhist monk in Vietnam? Err, google it kids, as per usual.
Belgium ‘Strobe Lights’ by Red Sebastian.
This is a sad one indeed, and is bound to not qualify for the finals.
Sebastian is, yep, entirely clad in red. His ditty is a Kraftwerk/Human League type thing with tired Alice in Wonderland references and a disturbing castrato voice. Expect to see him arrested outside school playgrounds when this all goes tits up.
Italy. ‘Volevo Essere Un Duroc’ by Lucio Corsi.
I LIKE THIS! The guitarist has genuine Flock Of Seagulls hair (google it kids) and they are dressed like Mott The Hoople!
I’m in! There’s a harmonica solo and strange shaped guitars that even a guitar-porn freak like me can’t recognise. Check out Lucio’s lyrics… ‘Moons without craters are just a rip off’ and ‘A gold medalist in spitting.’ Fuck Bob Dylan, I’m on board Lucio’s train to Euro glory. I hope he wins by 20,000 points.
Azerbaijan. ‘Run With You’ by Mamagama.
Back down to earth with a bone crushing bump here. This is actually depressing, a bunch of right wing zealots in leather uniforms with a eunuch on lead vocals holding a balalaika – welcome to 1939 (google it kids, a war started).
At this point I lose all feeling in my ears; and with my personal mindfulness guru on speed dial I am advised to watch no more and meditate for three days.
I tried, I really did, but you shall have to watch it yourselves.
