Eurovision 2024: United By Music, Divided By Reckless Incompetence (or: Whoa, Uh-Oh, Welcome to the Shitshow)

So.

What an unmitigated omnishambles. I don't know if there's ever been a Eurovision Song Contest so full of self-inflicted unforced errors at literally every level. Not the time they wanted to Celebrate Diversity by making three white dudes the hosts, or the time Latvia forgot to record half the postcards, or the entirety of the Toto Cotugno Experience (allora). Never has Eurovision been so broken. And as this year's winner Nemo said, maybe Eurovision needs a little bit of fixing. So what can be done to fix it? Shockingly I, a person on the internet, have ideas. We'll start with the obvious one.

1. New Leadership at the EBU

At every single possible opportunity (and several seemingly impossible opportunities) in the leadup to the Grand Final, the European Broadcasting Union failed to act with the welfare of its most important figures, the contestants themselves, as their utmost priority. We are constantly hearing that this is the biggest live music event in the world, and yet, over the past decade it has been turned into a big budget version of a sadistic 2000s reality TV spectacle.

That is not the fault of a single person or a single broadcaster (indeed, the single person many in the contest fandom have blamed for most of these gradual changes in the past, Swedish producer Christer Bjorkman, was likely the very person who saved Eurovision with a running order this year that was atypical in the places it needed to be); however, it is symptomatic of a rot within the union that has seeped into every aspect of the production. The positions of all of the people in positions of oversight at the EBU is now completely untenable. However, there are three in particular who need singling out due to the nature of their roles.

First and most obviously is the Executive Supervisor of the contest, Martin Österdahl. Whatever failings were on display during the contest – and there were too many to list here, to the point it was not implausible to suggest that at minimum half of the nations competing would be completely logical withdrawals next year, even before the annual quibbles from less well-off countries about affording the entry fees – they all rest at his feet. He is the public face of the contest, and it is abundantly clear that the public have no faith in him after this mess. There is no way for the contest to recover while is in any way involved with it. (Also, the next Executive Supervisor needs to care a hell of a lot less about building up their own personal legend to the point of approving a musical number about how sexy they are, and more about doing the job competently. Thanks in advance.)

Second, EBU Director General Noel Curran. It may be harder for Noel to vanish entirely, being married to 1996 winner Eimear Quinn, but he was never an incredibly public face as it was. However, during the leadup to the final this year he was interviewed by host broadcaster SVT about the myriad ongoing complaints with this year's Israeli delegation and claimed the EBU “saw that Israel's TV company had not broken any of the EBU's rules regarding the competition”. This is indefensible. The only two ways to read this statement are that either he and the EBU were too ignorant to see the repeated and brazen flouting of the contest's publicly available rules that the Israeli delegation was taking part in, in which case they are unfit for their jobs, or the EBU knew that Israel was breaking the rules without abandon and actively did nothing, putting the other contestants and delegations at repeated risk, in which case they are unfit for their jobs. The additional concerns about the contest's main sponsor being an Israeli company who may have been pressuring them behind the scenes are irrelevant. Under his watch, the people he had a duty of care were repeatedly endangered. He must go.

But it's not just the in person care that's an issue. A huge part of why the particular situation with this year's Dutch entrant, Joost Klein, was so catastrophic was the complete and utter silence from the EBU throughout as the story was developing. With the heightened emotions of this year's contest, more than ever the communication needed to be clear, concise, and clarifying. We got none of that, allowing social media to run rampant with speculation ranging from fanciful to outright defamatory; instead, we got a breathless Twitter post about the latest reunion of 2000s pop group Alcazar for one of the intervals (more on the intervals later). It would be bad enough in the hands of a career social media manager. But a few years ago, the social media presence of one of the world's biggest events was taken over by British journalist Rob Holley, a man whose relevant expertise appears to have largely been “got a terminally online fandom to rewatch things at a time when nobody could leave their house”. (Yes, this is as stupid as it sounds.) To put it bluntly, the EBU was wholly unprepared to have to do crisis control for an event where skills for crisis control are an essential part of the job. It's time for a new approach led by new people.

2. Ban Israel from the Contest

Once the EBU has new management, the first thing that must be done is the single thing that could have been done months ago to prevent the contest bringing itself into disrepute in the first place: banning Israel from entering while it is committing a genocide (as implicated by the International Court of Justice and visible to anyone with even a passing awareness of the news). The usual lies and excuses that the Israeli broadcaster doesn't represent Israel as a whole are just that, lies and excuses. The graphics show national flags, not broadcaster logos. Greece has never given twelve points to the Cyprus Broadcasting Corporation. Belgium doesn't get two entries every year because it has two broadcasters. It is a blatant and unconscionable attempt at gaslighting the audience because the EBU is too lazy, incompetent, compromised, or all three to take any meaningful action.

Even if you were to come up with a heretofore unseen logic that makes the “but broadcasters are not countries!” schtick explanation palatable to the vast majority of the viewing public (in which case why haven't you done it by now), the fact remains that the members of the Israeli delegation this year broke so many of the contest's fundamental rules so frequently and so blatantly and so unafraid of consequences that it is clear they are likely to do so again if given another opportunity. We also have what appears to be strong evidence of attempts to rig the televote from the same country. They have proven they cannot be trusted to behave in the contest setting, and it has happened several times over recent years. It's time for the EBU to admit it's too much hassle. Get rid.

3. Reference Group Composition

The priority when staging Eurovision must be making the event as safe as possible for the delegations involved. Currently, the EBU Reference Group that handles the decision making processes with the Executive Supervisor is made entirely of television producers. That's fine in moderation, but one of the key priorities must be ensuring the welfare of acts and their delegations, rather than solely producing a television program at the expense of those required to make the program happen, as has clearly been the case in this and other recent years. The way to fix this is simple: add an extra one or two people to the reference group each year who were former Eurovision contestants and know what needs to be done to handle those sorts of issues. The group meets only a handful of times a year. Having an extra person sit in on a Zoom call every couple of months is not going to be prohibitively expensive. There are certainly other issues as well – the current members of the Reference Group skew overwhelmingly towards western Europe, for example – but those are standard, workable issues rather than important changes needing to be made for Eurovision's continued presence.

4. Give the Dutch a Guaranteed Place in the Grand Final

This year, the Dutch won the right to compete in the Grand Final – quite handily, finishing a runaway second in its Semi Final – however, as a result of the investigation into Joost Klein were unable to compete in it. They obviously can't enter the same song again next year, and even if the police investigation is fruitless Joost himself may not want to return after this traumatic and entirely avoidable experience at the incompetent hands of the EBU, but they have earned a place in the finale that they haven't used. There's no reason the EBU couldn't just make the Netherlands an automatic qualifier in 2025 as a way of atoning for the (hopefully) previous management's turducken of negligence.

That's really the bare minimum though. Frankly, given everything the Netherlands have done for the Eurovision Song Contest over the years – missing only four contests in the event's history (two due to it being held on the Dutch version of Armistice Day, two in the relegation era), establishing the 'winner hosts the next contest' format, saving the contest's entire existence after the 1969 tie, introducing postcards, hosting at short notice and with no budget in 1980, creating the special Covid broadcast in 2020 of their own volition after the contest was cancelled, then hosting for real in 2021 when nobody would have begrudged them for refusing, being the only country to compete at every Junior Eurovision (and in several years being just about the only western country there at all), hosting the biggest preparty concert every year, and buying huuuuuuge numbers of tickets to the contest every year – it really is time to expand the Big 5 into a Big 6 and give them a permanent grand final berth. They already put the most money in after the Big 5. Switzerland might be the birthplace of Eurovision, and Italy might be its parent, but the Netherlands is Eurovision's home. They've well and truly earned it.

5. Finally Learn the Difference Between Apolitical and Amoral

It's wonderful for Eurovision to try and be apolitical. It would be better if it was even possible. Politics are everywhere at Eurovision, from Bambie Thug repeatedly quoting Harry Potter in their song while ensuring its author (a known fan of the contest in past years and a known idol of transphobes now) couldn't celebrate it by dressing as the trans pride flag, to jokes about how voting for your neighbours is a sure way to get your song disgraced but when Sweden gets twelve points from Norway that's clearly just good taste, to Australia's ongoing and commendable commitment to ethnically diverse acts because of the remit of the channel it airs on. It's never going to stop, and the EBU has to stop (1) pretending it can control it and (2) thinking that taking no action is not, in fact, taking the side of the oppressor for political purposes. The heavy handed nature of the censorship this year as a result of current events is moderately understandable in context, but there was an easy way to avoid it and, as we've already established, the European Broadcasting Union under Martin Österdahl has never met a dangerously stupid decision it wasn't willing to go out of its way to make.

There are a couple of possible, imperfect solutions, but the one that stands out as the most likely to be successful is just making it part of the rules for each delegation to take full responsibility for the consequences of anything their act and delegation does (both on stage and during the rehearsal period), with the EBU and host broadcaster responsible for any other issues like stage invaders and so forth. It sounds so obvious when you see it that it's kind of difficult to work out why it wasn't already the setup.

6. Revert to the Old Combined Scoring System (in Both the Semis and the Grand Final)

I mentioned earlier that the contest in its current form appears to be being produced with the mindset of a reality show. Nowhere is that more evident than the changes made over the last decade with regards to the voting system, with a system that worked well for four decades being destroyed simply because the EBU – after making a tweak a couple of years earlier that meant a winner was announced as soon as it was mathematically impossible for anyone to outscore them rather than after the final vote – decided to split the jury and televote scores into two distinct score sets, revealing jury votes with the traditional Tour of Drunk European TV Presenters and then combining all of Europe's televotes together and having hosts rattle them off in a segment that at best will be either an anticlimax or a deus ex machina and at worst is actively humiliating to those who receive low televote scores and those who finish near the bottom of the scoreboard and have to watch the final ten or so minutes of the show without any chance of a surprise twelve points from a country that seems to be trolling everyone.

In addition, the last two contests have changed the rules for the semi finals to remove the juries, making the choice of who qualifies for the Grand Final dependent entirely on televotes. On paper, this sounds great, in that it will stop acts riding to the semi final without public support, limiting the potential of anyone experiencing the famed nul points result. In practice, it makes no difference in the bit it was supposed to fix (since the countries that usually end up in that situation are automatic qualifiers that don't need the semi finals), and makes the juries too powerful in the finale (as the televote fractures while jurors tend to vote relatively uniformly on alleged merit). A scoring system that actively fails to accomplish the one thing it sets out to do is not a system that can be kept.

7. Return to a Randomised Running Order

For the first nearly six decades of the contest's history, the order in which countries perform has been chosen by a random draw. In 2013, however, this started to be chosen mostly by producers, with host countries selecting their slot randomly and everyone else randomly selecting whether producers had to stick them in the first or second half upon qualifying. In 2024, this format was changed again, with only half of the qualifier draws marked and the rest giving producers the power to slot them anywhere. This has made the contest predictable. The logic used to justify it is that it prevents songs that are too similar from being next to each other and cancelling themselves out (which is a problem with the songs, not the draw; if you can't stand out from one other song you don't deserve to win in a field of 26). In practice, it has allowed regular contest producer Christer Bjorkman too much control over who wins, with about half of the positions in the final running order complete writeoffs before the final even begins. While it's true that before the rules changed the first time there had been a long run where every winner had been near the end of the running order: it's a random draw. You get anomalies sometimes.

However, of the eleven winners since Bjorkman started assigning the running orders, six have performed within the very narrow range between 9^th and 12^th, with the other five all being between 18^th and 24^th. Runners-up are even worse: the two drawn to perform in the first half were both in Slot #13, while all nine of the others have been between Slots #20 and #25. It becomes less visible if you also consider third-, fourth-, and fifth- placers, but there's still a clear benefit to those limited ranges of slots. If half the countries can tell they have no chance just from where they've been positioned in the show, why are they bothering? And if casual viewers can tell half the countries have no chance just from where they've been positioned in the show, why are they bothering to watch the first few songs at all, or to stay in the room while songs 14-17 are on? There's no benefit to anyone from Bjorkman trying to split the perceived 'favourites' (based on WHAT, Christer?) and putting them in the same slots all the time. There's also no benefit to having countries like Albania send songs that suit their own culture every year only to repeatedly get dumped into the #2 deathslot as sacrificial lambs. The power for producers to put their finger on the scales and affect results needs to end.

(For the record, the non-randomised slots given to Bjorkman's home country of Sweden under his control: 13, 10, 24, 20, 9, 25, 20, 9.)

8. Ditch the 'United by Music' Slogan

It's clearly a lie. Just look at this year.

To be more specific, United by Music was an absolutely perfect slogan for 2023, a contest that had to be held outside the country that won the right to host for safety reasons. It is not a slogan that works as a generic branding phrase that can be kept every year instead of making a new one for each contest. Each year, the contest's slogan – usually some sort of vapid 'why can't we all get along?' platitude like 'Come Together' or 'Building Bridges' is used to develop the contest's visual identity, making it feel unique and tailored to its home country. This year, when that option was not available to Sweden, we got the most bland contest in decades, both visually and in terms of everything going on.

It's true that a lot of this year's problems were probably due to production's first choices not wanting to be associated with Israel (for more on how the gormless corporate scuzzballs at the EBU could have done literally anything to fix the situation, please refer to Point #2), but... in 2021 we got a unique version of the typical 'past acts sing a medley' interval that was perfect for what they were able to do under Covid restrictions at a time. In 2022, we had peak Italian content with one of the hosts singing some of the country's greatest musical hits and another singing some of his own. In 2023, the BBC had the unenviable task of trying to do something celebrating two countries in very different circumstances on opposite sides of the continent, while also showing they'd finally learned what modern Eurovision was, and nailed it by having six past acts with very different styles return to cover iconic songs from the host city of Liverpool, ending with all of the interval performers, the hosts, backup dancers, a group of locals with former winner Ruslana in Kyiv, and a packed stadium singing the city's unofficial anthem You'll Never Walk Alone in solidarity with Ukraine. It was always going to be tough to top that, but when you've been saddled with a slogan that doesn't fit what you're trying to do, a production that's utterly devoid of character, and an EBU that was actively and repeatedly undermining even the little positive impact that slogan could have had, having a brief appearance from Alcazar and constant appearances throughout the week from 1999 winner Charlotte Perrelli and sketch character Lynda Woodruff just do not cut it. It was atrocious, and we expect far better from any country hosting Eurovision, let alone one like Sweden that loves Eurovision so much they did a parody song during one of the semi finals titled We Just Love Eurovision Too Much.

If the EBU does still insist on an overarching slogan, though, I have a suggestion:

Music Speaks.

Maybe it's time for them to start listening.

We Have A(nother) Challenge For You

Not really anything to note here, but the The Mole challenge guide (PDF, 1 MB; I'd suggest downloading it rather than using an online PDF viewer) has been updated to include both the mediocre nineteenth (!) Dutch season and the simply marvellous seventh Belgian season. There's been a couple of other minor changes to fix typos and such that jumped out while I was skimming through (and I'm not guaranteeing the rest of the guide is error-free), but the rest of the guide aside from these two seasons is otherwise identical. Still, it's done.

Also HOW HAS IT TAKEN SO LONG FOR A MOLE FRANCHISE TO GO TO VIETNAM.

We Have a Challenge For You

Otherwise known as 'the updated guide to The Mole's challenges' [PDF, 976kb].

It's been way, way too long since I wrote a challenge guide. I've been working on them pretty constantly since the last one (released in 2014, holy shit), but trying to design a format that worked with enough consistency to use for multiple shows was a nightmare, and trying to do shows that were just too big to get through at any reasonable speed was draining (spoiler: a Big Brother guide will probably not be happening any time soon), and several other excuses, I'm sure.

I've tried to make the formatting for this one reasonably simple compared to the last guide I did for The Amazing Race. I do like the tables of brief explanations better and I do think they're more adaptable than blocks of text, but at the same time over the years this has been reworked and rejigged so many times that I kind of just threw my hands up in defeat a little bit here. Which sounds terrible, but last time I did a Mole guide I used this commentary space to say that Americans sucked at making reality television (they still do) and subsequently asked a winner of the American version of this show to tweet about it, so. Moving up, I guess?

With a new Mole season literally premiering in less than 48 hours and another following in a couple of months, I'll be doing a quick update after they both air, but don't expect a total revamp of the guide like I did for this version. Likewise, I'm 90% sure what show I'll be doing next (at the moment, it'll be a show that's new to this blog and pretty small by comparison to the 40 seasons I covered here), but... you know, look at all the times I said I knew what I was doing before. Doesn't it seem fitting that this is about a show where trust is bullshit now?

Eurovision Revision IV: Another Time, Another Place

Following the Netherlands' win in Frankfurt, the responsibilities for hosting the 1958 contest went to the Dutch, and in an era when the show was still mostly a radio event it made sense to stage the contest not at a stadium or a theatre but in a well-resourced television studio in the town of Hilversum, hub of basically all major Dutch media organisations and perhaps ironically the least famous venue this side of Millstreet. The cast of competing countries was basically the same as in 1957 - minus the UK in their only post-debut absence, with Sweden substituting and popping their Eurovision cherry - and the entries very much had a going-through-the-motions feel to them for the most part, not helped by four separate performers (previous winners Lys Assia and Corry Brokken, plus Margot Hielscher and poor Fud Leclerc) all representing their countries again. On the other hand, one of the most well-known songs to ever come out of the contest was introduced to the world in Hilversum, so who's to say whether this year's contest is truly as dull as it feels? Shall we begin?

#25. Nel Blu Dipinto di Blu (Domenico Modugno, Italy 1958, 3rd)

What is there to say about this song, better known as Volare, that has not already been said? I mean, it's one thing to win the contest. It's another to finish third but go on to be not only the only Eurovision entry to win a Grammy, but for that win to make it the first ever Song of the Year. Over sixty years, there have been so few songs to transcend the contest and become major successes in their own right - really it's just this, Congratulations, Waterloo, and Ooh Aah... Just a Little Bit, plus Riverdance - that for one of these songs to happen so early in the contest's history, in a contest (the second and last) without any songs performed in English, is remarkable. I mean, it even got performed on Quantum Leap of all places. Endlessly listenable, and if you're not throwing your arms up with Domenico at the start of the chorus there's probably something very wrong with you. Italie, DOUZE POINTS.

#26. Heel de Wereld (Corry Brokken, Netherlands 1958, tied for 9th)

It had to happen eventually. A Dutch entry I can't get wholeheartedly behind. Don't get me wrong, I really do like most of it. But every so often Corry Brokken has to break with the tempo of this slow ditty (about wanting to reveal a secret, for those of you playing along, just as Nel Blu Dipinto di Blu was about gettin' high on love) and run through about six syllables in a second just to get to the end of the line in time with the music. If the rest of the song was faster, or if the Dutch language wasn't so gloriously guttural, it could have worked. But it's not, and it isn't, so it doesn't. Pays-Bas, cinq points.

#27. Dors, Mon Amour (André Claveau, France 1958, Winner)

It may be that I'm listening to this shortly after listing to one of the true classic songs of the 1950s, but... eesh, this WON? I don't know what to say about it because it's such a blah song (its theme of being about sleeping to enjoy the future is, how shall we say, more than appropriate), relying pretty much entirely on Claveau's deep-but-not-too-deep voice to sell it. And failing. France, trois points.

#28. Un Grand Amour (Solange Berry, Luxembourg 1958, tied for 9th)

Move over, Imitation Beyonce, I have a new favourite Solange. It's not a particularly spectacular entry to Eurovision canon, but it's a good song sung well, and at this point in the contest's history that should be all you need to do well. Unfortunately, this is right around the time the visual performance is about to become important (as early as next year, it will play a huge role in deciding the winner), and we just don't have anything exciting to see here. Luxembourg, sept points.

#29. Lilla Stjärna (Alice Babs, Sweden 1958, 4th)

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. The thing with Swedish entries is that I often find myself either really digging them or being completely bored by them, and this one, in which poor Alice Babs finds herself having to act like she routinely asks objects that can't hear her for romantic advice,  finds itself wedged firmly into the latter category. And... like, it's not that it's a bad song, and I can see how they finished fourth, but I know Sweden can and will do much better. Suede, cinq points.

#30. Jeg Rev et Blad ud af Min Dagbog (Raquel Rastenni, Denmark 1958, 8th)

No, Denmark. I don't forgive you for this mediocre regret-inspired song. Especially when the big note at the end of the song winds up being the smallest of all. The era of actual performances can't come quick enough at this point. Danmark, quatre points.

#31. Ma Petite Chatte (Poor Fud Leclerc, Belgium 1958, tied for 5th)

As excellent as this generic love song is - and fast-paced swing is a very difficult thing to get right at Eurovision, as demonstrated multiple times over the years until finally Electro Velvet almost killed the genre for everybody - it does seem like Poor Fud Leclerc isn't entirely comfortable with singing it, even though he sells the heck out of the performance better than any other performer this year (yes, even more than Modugno). There's just something kind of wooden to his act that detracts from its tone, and I'm not sure that can quite be explained away by the social standards of the 1950s. Belgique, huit points.

#32. Für Zwei Groschen Musik (Margot Hielscher, West Germany 1958, 7th)

In a contest that so far has pretty much been filled with soulful funeral dirges and Volare, an upbeat piece of social commentary on the ridiculous of corporate beauty pageants that changes after the first verse into a jazzy little number about the power and importance of jukeboxes is... a bit of a departure, it must be said. But it's not an unwelcome departure, in spite of its switch and in spite of it, you know, being jazz. It's easy to see why it didn't win - it's not a particularly European song or a particularly Eurovision song and is, still, jazz - but that doesn't mean it's hateable. And bonus points for being the first song to try and do something with the staging. Allemagne de l'Ouest, sept points.

#33. Die Ganze Welt Braucht Liebe (Liane Augustin, Austria 1958, tied for 5th)

Look, it's perfectly adequate. But with the previous two songs being solidly above average, adequate isn't going to cut it right now. There are times when it will. But this isn't one of them. I don't necessarily need every song to be spectacular, but I'd like to at least realise the song has ended and looped around before the third run-through, you know? Autriche, trois points.

#34. Giorgio (Lys Assia, Switzerland 1958, 2nd)

Or as I like to think of it, "Bambi Raps In Italian". And yes, it really is that bonkers to listen to, full of overly fast lyrics and the repeated use of the words Chianti, Risotto, and Polenta, almost as if you're trying to communicate with a waiter who speaks another language without having to do the ultra-slow slurred speech thing. Or you're just Marco Pierre White. Suisse, sept points.

===

NEXT TIME: The 1950s come to an end. And not a moment too soon.

Eurovision Revision III: What's Another Year?

The year is 1957. Following the logical selection of Switzerland as inaugural host for this festival of peace, and with the original plan of having participants take turns hosting, there were two choices for the sequel without randomly going to a country that wasn't present in Lugano - either go to a country that was pretty recently invaded by the Nazis and deal with the uncomfortable subtext of having to invite West Germany, or stage the contest in West Germany itself and use it to show how the country had grown up in the previous decade or so. Naturally, the latter was deemed a better choice, and the contest headed to Frankfurt with the understanding that in future years winning countries would be given the honour of hosting to avoid the drama.

For the contest itself, the format was much closer to the format we know today. We're still in the "show in a TV studio" era of the contest and won't move to a concert hall until 1959 (with the move to stadium spectaculars full-time not happening until the new millennium), but this time each country only sent one song and we got to see the full voting in the interests of filling time transparency. The voting also won't change to the current format for a while, becoming the first of many changes to the contest brought about by the Swedes, but for this year the format is simple: Each country had ten jurors from outside the music industry, who each cast a single vote for their favourite song. Most votes wins. What could be simpler?

#15. Straatdeuntje (Bobbejaan Schoepen, Belgium 1957, 8th)

This one's a tough one. I think it's a perfectly fine song on its own, but... honestly, everything about it has been done significantly better elsewhere. A Dutch-language song about relaxing street music? The Dutch themselves will do it better in the 1970s. Obnoxiously catchy whistling? Thank you, Switzerland. A chorus that's basically just "la la la la la la la"? Many, many times, and it doesn't commit itself to the gimmick for long enough to make it worthwhile. The singer isn't even reality TV's best Bobby Jon. The one thing it does have, however, is that it sets into motion the tradition of Belgium alternating between French and Dutch entries at each contest they attend, one that will continue (with only one exception) until 1998. But still: adequate but not remarkable. Belgique, six points.

#16. Amours Mortes (Tant de Peine) (Danièle Dupré, Luxembourg 1957, 4th)

So I listened to this song about five minutes ago and it's already been completely forgotten, aside from the visual of the singer clearly being unsure what to do with her hands and ending up with her arms positioned awkwardly like she was some kind of a porcelain doll. Which is bad enough at the best of times, but from about thirty seconds into the video all we get is a tight shot on her head, so it's not like there's even anything to distract from how deathly dull the song is. Luxembourg, deux points.

#17. All (Patricia Bredin, United Kingdom 1957, 7th)

On the one hand, this is a surprisingly shrill entry from a country that usually at least sends decent voices, even if the stage presence and the songs themselves are now invariably awful. On the other hand, it's pretty much just a straight line from this to Electro Velvet, and at least the song is over quickly - the entire performance lasts less than two excruciating minutes. And while I'm definitely not a fan of the song, it's nice of people to realise the song is kind of terrible and to act accordingly. They won't always. Royaume-Uni, trois points.

#18. Corde della mia Chitarra (Nunzio Gallo, Italy 1957, 6th)

Clocking in at five minutes and nineteen seconds, this is the longest entry in Eurovision history... and, unfortunately, you can feel each and every tedious second. It's not even until a minute in that the acoustic guitar solo (which, despite the lyrics, is not magically playing itself) ends and the song proper begins, and by that point you're already hoping for the damn thing to be over already. It's not painfully bad, sure, but it just lasts far too fucking long. Italie, trois points.

#19. Wohin, Kleines Pony? (Bob Martin, Austria 1957, 10th)

I don't know about you, but I've always wanted to hear someone ask a pony for directions to the tune of the Married... With Children theme as performed in a spaghetti Western (a strudel Western?). I mean, I'm flummoxed that it finished last, but I'm not entirely surprised it didn't do well. There are definitely surreal moments throughout the history of Eurovision that work, but it's a technique that only seems to work for select countries. France can get away with it, because everyone expects them to think they're too good for this silly little fooferaw. Moldova can get away with it, because everybody understands they need to do whatever they can to help people find it on a map. But Austria is one of the countries where the technique never works, and it's always kind of embarrassing to see another attempt. Autriche, quatre points.

#20. Net Als Toen (Corry Brokken, Netherlands 1957, Winner)

So I know I'm genetically predisposed to love everything the Netherlands sends, but even then it's kind of astonishing just how much this song rises above the comparative chaff we've had so far in this year's contest. Brokken herself is one of the forgotten icons of Eurovision - as well as being a staple of these early contests, she's one of only two people in history to complete the "winner, host, spokesperson" triple play (and the two-decade waits between each is much more impressive than Marie N doing all three within the space of four contests) - and it's a real shame she's not remembered as well as many of the other important figures in the contest's canon. Especially with a song this good. Pays-Bas, dix points.

#21. Telefon, Telefon (Margot Hielscher, West Germany 1957, 4th)

For those of you wondering just what The Social Network Song would be like if transplanted into the early years of the contest, here you go. I kid, a little, but it's the same basic "love letter to glorious technology" concept (one which the West Germans would return to twenty years down the line) in the form of a 1950s chanson. This one has the added bonus of referencing the addition of the telephone voting to the contest, but it honestly doesn't need it. It's a good entry on its own, which is more than can be said for Poor Valentina Monetta's debut. Allemagne de l'Ouest, huit points.

#22. La Belle Amour (Paule Desjardins, France 1957, 2nd)

In the early years of Eurovision, France was basically an unstoppable force - at risk of spoiling events over half a century old, they're going to win three of the next five contests, and will only fall outside the top five once between now and 1970 - but unlike later times when countries would consistently do well (the mantle will get passed around from France to the UK, Israel, and West Germany before a brief open period that confuses everybody into endorsing Ireland's plan for world domination), there's not really anything about this ode to nature or ballrooms or whatever (it's not particularly clear) that makes it easy to see why France was about to be so successful. In this case, it isn't even that French was a literal lingua franca - with the specific countries here, the German songs were more likely to pick up the At Least I Understand It votes - so I don't know. Don't get me wrong, it's a perfectly solid entry, but it's not as good as it probably should be for a runner-up. France, sept points.

#23. Skibet Skal Sejle i Nat (Birthe Wilke & Gustav Winckler, Denmark 1957, 3rd)

Oh, hey. two singers. That presents problems here more than it does in other songs - Birthe has a Disney voice while Gustav's is almost comically deep and for the most part drowns her out when they sing lines in unison - but it's nice to get something to break up the monotony of yet another pretty young lady singing about loving where they live, and it makes sense to have two singers perform a song about one last afternoon of torrid outdoor sex before the man heads off to sea and explores life on the poop deck with his fellow sailors. Unfortunately, that's not why everyone mentions the couple. Because they share an overlong kiss at the end (spoiler?), the entry has kind of ended up with a disproportionate reputation, up to and including the Danish organisers of the 50th anniversary special having Birthe making a cameo to get kissed by Katrina minus the Waves. (I wish I was kidding.) And I just can't support that considering the song is actually kind of mediocre? Danmark, six points.

#24. L'Enfant que J'Etais (Lys Assia, Switzerland 1957, 8th)

Maybe it's just that the last four songs have been getting worse and worse, but I kind of adore this one? The annual "Look, Lys Assia is still alive! Let's interview her!" segment is pretty much my least favourite part of every year's contest, and the slow songs usually wind up in the like-but-not-love range for me, but somehow she manages to turn it out and make this work, which is especially tough since it's about growing old and she's not exactly elderly here. I'm pretty sure a decent amount of the poor result is jurors either penalising her for beating a song they liked more last year or not wanting her and Switzerland in general to win back-to-back in the first two contests, but frankly I wouldn't have wanted her to win back-to-back either. Suisse, huit points.

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NEXT TIME: One of the most successful Eurovision entries ever. And two songs that beat it.

Challenge Guide Update

Just a quick update - I was originally planning on releasing the first part of the updated challenge guide (which, as you'll no doubt remember from when I shoved the details in the blurb for the Amazing Race guide, is going to be a single-format with shows uploaded in stages rather than all at once) in the next week or so, but that's not going to happen.

Basically, the first batch of seasons I was planning on uploading were the civilian seasons of The Apprentice US, the first few years of Big Brother UK, and a section of The Challenge - three long-running shows I haven't really done anything with on this blog yet, and where better to start than with ABC? - but in keeping with the blog's updated subtitle (the reasons for which should go without saying), there's going to be a change of plans. I'll still be starting with some long-running shows, yes, but the line-up has changed somewhat. Instead:

• The first third of Big Brother UK (five seasons, plus four spinoff seasons)
• The first quarter of The Biggest Loser US (four seasons)
• The first third of The Challenge (nine seasons)
• The first third of Masterchef Australia (two seasons, plus two spinoff seasons)
• All of The Mole US (five seasons)
• The first third of Ninja Warrior Japan (eleven specials, plus two spinoff specials)
• The first fifth of Project Runway (four seasons)

The good news is I'm about half a celebrity season away from finishing the Big Brother section, and a lot of what's left just needs to be reformatted from old drafts on my computer. The bad news is it's still a lot of work, and it's probably still going to be at least another month or so away. Apologies for the delay.

Eurovision Revision II: Love Enough for Two

Having last time discussed the entries from all seven countries competing in the first Eurovision Song Contest, today we discuss... the entries from all seven countries competing in the first Eurovision Song Contest. Confused? Let me explain.

Essentially, Eurovision is the world's longest-running reality show. And much like basically every one of the bigger modern competitive reality shows is vastly different in its first season than it is from its second season onwards, the first Eurovision was very different from the contest we know and grudgingly watch each year to see which country in Eastern Europe Scandinavia gets given the trophy by default. In addition to being the only one of the sixty contests to date without a female host or cohost, and in addition to being the only contest where voting results were not revealed, this is also the only contest where each participating country sent more than one song, mostly to help fill the broadcast at a time when broadcasting simultaneously in seven countries was prohibitively expensive and thus needed to be justified. (By the following year there were ten countries, and voting was used to fill out the remaining time instead because the thought of a Eurovision with twenty songs competing would just be nonsensical.)

And now the stage is set, on with the show.

#8. Voorgoed Voorbij (Corry Brokken, Netherlands 1956)

Going into this marathon, I was expecting a lot of these early songs to be difficult to get into, just by virtue of being the sort of music even Eurovision doesn't bother giving exposure to any more. But in spite of being a pretty standard break-up song, this doesn't feel all too different to the sort of thing France would send to a modern contest just to be faux-edgy? Of course, the fact that it's good is an easy way to tell it apart from most recent French entries, but let's not split hairs. In fact, it's good enough that Corry Brokken is one of only three artists from this contest to return in later years (along with St. Lys Assia and Poor Fud Leclerc), and the first in a long line of singers to also be found guilty of Attempted Hosting. Not for twenty more years, but still. Pays-Bas, huit points.

#9. Refrain (Lys Assia, Switzerland 1956)

So... I'm supposed to love this one, right? Because it was the first winner, and that's supposed to be important or something? I'll work on it, I swear. But right now, I kind of feel like the lyrics (an old couple remembering when they were young and carefree) don't fit with the music? It's a fine entry, sure, but the reputation it has is a little overdone considering the actual quality of the song, which is really just a piece of background music from a 1920s silent film scene showing a love interest's introduction, with some lyrics over the top that feel a little too strongly-voiced for what it is. Or to put all of this another way, it's a good winner (and we'll have some truly awful ones in later years), but it's not one of the greats. Suisse, sept points.

#10. Le Plus Beau Jour de Ma Vie (Mony Marc, Belgium 1956)

Oh, Belgium. You're not going to make this behemoth easy on me, are you? Everyone else, you know how sometimes with old music the way the notes are held in that weird way that makes the voice sound distorted like you're literally listening to them through a foam cup with a piece of string attached? That's this song in a nutshell, even before you get to the story basically being a woman explaining how seeing her husband on her wedding day was the proudest moment of her life. Which despite failing the Bechdel Test on its own somehow manages to not be the most outdated Eurovision entry about weddings containing the words "ding dong" as a key part of the lyrics, so that's a plus for it. But it's pretty much the only one. Belgique, trois points.

#11. So Geht das Jede Nacht (Freddy Quinn, West Germany 1956)

Whereas Germany's first entry in this contest was something that would make you wonder just how big Shatner was in the country, this one's a bit more of an actual song. It's still not the sort of thing that would work at Eurovision - we've seen numerous times that swing is just one of those genres that never really catches on that well within the confines of the contest (rap and Motown have both failed in the past, and it took until the final song of this year's contest for someone to actually do well after trying to bring opera to the masses), plus the lyrics are pretty damn slut-shamey - and it's not even the best swing entry the Germans have sent, but taken on its own it's not that bad. That said, I'm not judging these songs in a bubble, and all of those things combine to give it a mediocre result. I'm sure Germany will wise up in future and send us a string of truly great entries, right? Right? Allemagne de l'Ouest, quatre points.

#12. Il Est Là (Dany Dauberson, France 1956)

In recent years, it's become common for the lesser singers to be overwhelmed by their backing tracks. And certainly this started in the same way, almost as if it was a deliberate attempt to lull you into a false sense of security like Dany's psychosomatic stalker seems to be. But then it kind of turned it around and became an adequate if unremarkable entry to the Eurovision canon. Unfortunately, by the time it did it I'd already zoned out. Sorry, France! France, six points.

#13. Les Amants de Minuit (Michèle Arnaud, Luxembourg 1956)

What I Thought The Song Was Going To Be About Before I Heard It: Consoling a premature ejaculator. What The Song Is Actually About: The 1950s version of a one-night stand, involving a late-night snack that isn't that kind of eating. So... close enough, but I still like my version better. And that's really the problem here - the version of this song I had in my head was much more interesting and involving than the song actually is. Especially compared to Ne Crois Pas, it just doesn't hold up. Luxembourg, cinq points.

#14. Amami Se Vuoi (Tonina Torrielli, Italy 1956)

And so we finally wrap up the first contest with... more of the same, really. I've been splitting hairs a lot of the time trying to work out how to analyse these songs since so many of them are pretty similarly slow and meandering, but this little ditty about how love never dies (or, if you prefer, only love survives) is among the best of those entries this time around. However, being the best of a mediocre bunch only gets you so far, and as it turns out that's somewhere around the upper-middle of the best-to-worst ranking right now. Italie, sept points.

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NEXT TIME: Austria. Also Denmark and the UK, but it's not like either of them ever produce notable Eurovision entries, so I don't know why I'm even mentioning them. (Also: video!)