Saturday 7 June 2008

# 39 Zemrën E Lamë Peng



I'm wondering whether I'm a little biassed when it comes to this song. Zemrën E Lamë Peng is a potent reminder of a time when in the run up to the 2008 contest when I found myself working on a special Eurovision-related project myself. I had this track playing in my ears morning, noon and night.

The song is a convincing one, with a heart-wrenching set of chord progressions which communicate pain and suffering even if I haven't looked at the English translation of the lyrics or even bothered to go and look at them now. (I know .. that's shameful isn't it, but I'm going on how it sounds). The bottom line is that when I listen to this I don't immediately think it's a Eurovision song. That means it has a spot of integrity in my book.

Sixteen years old when she participated in the Eurovision semi-final in 2008, Olta Boka was the youngest representative for Albania. Perhaps it's this combined with the inevitable lack of experience relative to her predecessors which means her live performance lacks a bit of punch. There are certainly some intonation problems from time to time.

Those problems to one side, this is still a great song with a satisfactory performance as well but its ultimately disappointing to see it did relatively badly in the final scoreboard coming a surprising 17th place on the big night.

# 38 Hear my plea



If there was an eastern Europe bias in the results from the 28 country strong semi-final this year, Albania didn't benefit from it.

This was to be the second year running Albania had failed to get through the semi-final stage ending up with a disappointing 17th place. A shame really as "Hear My Plea" sung by Aida & Frederik Ndoci is, based on a very simple comparison with their previous efforts, by far the strongest contribution Albania has made.

The song's anthemic chorus has a simple melody and is the just desserts for what starts off sounding like a slightly alienating opening melody. The overall sound and the stage presence makes for a solid statement to boot.

There's no doubt either that singing couple Aida & Frederik Ndoci show their obvious ability at delivering a punchy performance. They, like previous Albanian representatives, obviously have the necessary competence for singing in these kind of situations, something I might even go so far as to say is something of a trait of Albania's. Naturally such a wild and unsubstantiated claim may well be disproved when I cast a critical eye over Albania's 2008 entry.

Final place: 17/28
Final score: 49

# 37 Zjarr E Ftohtë



Oh deary me. Every time I watch this video I feel terribly sorry for Luiz Ejlli singing Zjarr E Ftohtë for Albania in 2006 whose performance to get the country through the semi-final that year.

Don't get me wrong, the boy can sing and doesn't suffer from any obvious on-stage nerves in terms of his voice production (quite possibly the result of having participated in the "Albanian" Idol equivalent. But, sweet jesus, he really can't dance to save his life.

True, it's not the most scintillating of songs. It was never going to be a winner given that it doesn't actually do very much or go anywhere. That said, it is representative of a culture (or at least it sounds that way) and, on a lightly geeky level, I do rather like the shuffle-style rythmn in the track.

Ultimately though, this song proves one scary truth about today's Eurovision. Participation isn't risky for an artist because of the quality of the song as much as it is the extent to which that artist has to place his trust in TV producers, choreographers and directors. When the song is chosen to represent a country it's those TV people who are charged with the task of putting that act on the Eurovision stage in such a way that people across Europe will sit up and take notice.

I can't bear watching the instrumental breaks. I can't quite wipe the idea from my mind that Luiz could quite easily be at the back of some wedding reception bobbing up and down uncomfortably to the beat, his mother and grandmother joining in the dance. He just looks like a teenager in his white suit and matching shoes. It's not particularly big and it's certainly not cool. But seeing as Luiz is reasonably easy on the eye, it is forgivable.

Final placing: 15/24 (semi-final)
Final score: 58

Wednesday 4 June 2008

# 36 Tomorrow I Go



As the Thoroughly Good Eurovision bus makes its long and windy journey through the myriad of offerings, there are one or two things are slowly becoming clear to me. I am beginning to enjoy this massive process rather more than I thought I would. And I'm beginning to remember useless facts, useless scores and random song titles. I am, at last, embracing the inner geek.

Take Albania's efforts, for example. I know little about Albania and can recall even less about the last few years output from the Eurovision machine. That's why listening to some of the songs from the Thoroughly Good thirties I've found myself pleasantly reacquainted with some forgotten joys. Sure, they probably won't meet the exacting standards of some who read and consume this (there's only a handful - don't be misled) but some of these numbers do strike up some interesting memories.

Not so with this one. I don't really recall Albania's entry from 2005, quite possibly because it was lost in what I imagine I regarded back then as a sea of quite similar sounding tracks.

Whilst "Tomorrow I Go" starts off pretty well (in my book at least), it's not long before my attention is waning. The melody doesn't hold up against the whistling criteria I tested it against this afternoon (it just sounds crap when I whistle it - even the builders on the second floor of the office gave me funny looks when I passed them) and it's clear that gorgeous singer Ledina Celo struggles to deliver a strong enough performance.

But there's one thing which sticks in my mind the most about this little parade and that is the inexplicably dull and ultimately pointless choreography. I can forgive the balloon pants passing as ethnic dress but why on earth have six dancers on stage leaping around with fake violins ? It just don't work love. Sorry.

Ultimately however, every time I listen to the song (don't get me wrong, I have watched this video a few times as well) it's also painfully close to My Number One from Helena Paparizou which as we all know now won for Greece the same year.

Poor old Ledina never stood a chance. No surprises she came 16th with a grand total of 53 points. Still, she could have done worse. She could have come lower than the UK that year. But let's not go there. At least, not yet.

Final place: 16/24
Final score: 53

Tuesday 3 June 2008

# 35 Image of You



The Albanians certainly went to a great deal of effort selecting their artist to represent the country at their first ever Eurovision in 2004. Seventeen year-old Anjeza Shahini beat twenty-nine other hopeful representatives in the RTSH (Albanian TV) song festival (Festivali i Kenges) with her song "Imazhi yt".

What makes the Albanian song quite interesting is that it began life as something a little different from the usual Eurovision entry. The version of the song Anjeza won the Albanian national final with was a non-EBU compliant four and a half minutes long, inevitably demanding a certain amount of rehashing on the part of the composers.

The result was the song translated into English with the title "The Image of You", one verse jettisoned and the whole sung at a faster tempo. (Liking the detail? Don't think I've absorbed this into an especially reserved area of my brain marked "Eurovision" - I just went trawling around on the internet.)

Having listened to the different versions on the internet today, I'm still certain that the original comes out on top in comparison.

Come the Eurovision semi (above video) in 2004, the performance had already gone through quite a drastic change too. Gone was the dubious choreography seen in the preview video, replaced by a group of singers who remained relatively static behind their microphones.

In a slightly gay-way I can't help thinking that the backing singers general attire on the night of the final looks like they'd just been pulled from an office somewhere to take part. They were, in fact, a collection of singers who had also competed national final Anjeza had won. There's a strange spirit in their performance which combined with Anjeza makes it seem like I'm watching a Eurovision from sometime in the 1980s. That isn't necessarily a bad thing, I hasten to add.

I wasn't absolutely convinced about the rehashed version in the final when I heard it again today for the first time in nearly four years. It doesn't really feel like it goes anywhere before eventually just grinding to a halt.

Anjeza gave an undeniably perky performance and could clearly belt out her song. The semi-final performance clearly showed what a hit she was in the hall and won through the semi.

Come the final, her obvious popularity and what by then seemed like a reasonably good song saw her and Albania finish in seventh place with a very respectable 106 points. In the final analysis it's just very difficult not to like it although it doesn't make me want to love it.

The ultimate indicator of a popular act must surely be a spot of imitation, courtesy of one obvious fan in Germany who shows himself as a potential performer himself. Don't deny it, each and every one of us has done a spot of this. Although, really and truly, I usually stick to doing it in front of the bathroom mirror.

Monday 2 June 2008

# 34 Fight



At last, a vague sense of self-satisfaction as I complete a smallish chapter in this riduclously unwieldly Eurovision-related blog. Yes, this is the final contribution from Moldova (until some time in 2009) and on that basis I am feeling a little bit smug.

Natalia Barbu performed for Moldova in 2007 with "her" song Fight, a vast improvement on Loca from the previous year, but something which leaves me a little cold. There's more than a strong reminder of Ruslana with that skimpy leatherette number she's wearing.

The tub-thumping rock track reminds me just a little of Lordi's Hard Rock Hallelujah which won the previous year, although obviously Natalia looks considerably easier on the eye than Lordi did.

Having said that she does carry off a pretty good performance especially considering she has to hit quite a high note at the end something reflected in an equally good performance in the voting.

OIKO Times however carries a story post-Eurovision 2007 that Natalie would not put herself forward to represent Moldova in Eurovision again. It seems it's quite a costly exercise.

Soult.com: "Prediction for the final: Unlikely to qualify"

Je T'Adore Eurovision: "Moldova for me were one of the shockers this year, and I can’t decide as to whether or not they were a prime example of political voting at it’s best or if it simply did strike a chord around Europe..."

Not sure I'd necessarily go with what EurovisionLive.com concluded, "Natalie Barbu came 10th in the final with “Fight”. Maybe this proofs that new and innovative styles are very much appreciated at Eurovision."

MishaEurovision07 provides an account of Natalia in rehearsal in 2007.

Was it really innovative?

Final place: 10/24
Final score: 109

Sunday 1 June 2008

# 33 Loca



One of the problems with setting myself the challenge of listening to every Eurovision song and then blogging about them, is that I do have to write about the ones I don't like. That's quite a challenge when the damn blog is prefaced "Thoroughly Good". After all, in a way, what's the point if I don't like them? (It's about being "thorough", that's what it's about. Geddit?)

Still, in pursuit of a vague feeling of accomplishment, I might as well get Moldova's Eurovision contributions out of the way as quickly as possible. Where the previous act from 2005 set me alight, this one from 2006 performed by Natalia Gordienko and the dubious-sounding Arsenium leaves me cold.

I can't even bear to look at the video to be honest, the sound of the song is enough to make me think of 80s Lilt adverts with partying twenty-somethings bobbing up and down beside a casually parked Volkswagen Beetle on a sun-kissed beach.

Moldova came 20th in the final in 2006, hence why they had to participate in the semi-final the year after. Strangely, it's not unlike the UK's Teenage Life from Daz Sampson which came in at 19th place in the final ranking the same year.

Final place: 20/24
Final score: 22

Friday 30 May 2008

# 32 Boonika Bate Doba



Talkon's correct. Moldova does have an impressive past when it comes to Eurovision (or at least their first contribution stands head and shoulders above the rest at least) as this, their debut performance in 2005 clearly demonstrates.

Boonika Bate Doba - translated as "Grandmama beats the drum"- is edgy and fresh and sufficiently different from anything else heard in the contest without alienating.

In fact, listening to this after a great deal of Europop makes me feel young, hip and trendy. Imagine the kudos at parties when people say "Who's your favourite band?" "Oh," I'd reply, "Zdob Si Zdub from Moldova. They're a fusion of hip-hop, rock and traditional Romanian music". People would be impressed, I'm certain of it.

The band, Zdob Si Zdub, had an impressive pedigree. Ten years playing together including tours all over eastern Europe as well as Germany and the Netherlands. This bunch were a real band and as a result looked like a real band on stage. It comes across in the performance, something which makes their sixth place in the final well-deserved.

Every now and again good stuff seaps through the Eurovision net. This is one of them. Love it. Zdob Si Zdub's website is pretty good too.

Final placing: 6/24
Final score: 148

Thursday 29 May 2008

# 31 Century of Love



Whilst I'm still able to look at the 2008 contest without breaking out in hives, take a look at Moldova's splendid little effort from this year, Century of Love sung by Geta Burlacu. The version above is the one from their national selection show.

I'll confess that I fell for this song big time the moment I saw the national selection video but, just as with quite a lot of acts this year, the experience was entirely different come the actual semi-final.

Gone was the intimate, basement-jazz like feel and in was a strange stage performance comprising a teddy bear and lost-looking sofa. I winced when I saw it.

I was disappointed it didn't get through to the final but will happily play it from time to time. This will be a survivor from 2008, no mistakin'.

Monday 26 May 2008

# 30 Even If



If ever there was a song to continue my self-indulgent stroll through the endless hours of songs which graced the Eurovision stage, it's this one.

Forty-eight hours after Andy Abraham gave a sterling performance in Belgrade of a song I loved the first moment I heard it in rehearsals nearly three months before, I like a lot of people am left feeling bereft. Watching the video back now I'm still convinced the boy did good for the UK and the boy most definitely deserved more than the 14 points and last place he ended up with.

Not only that, he's one of the few people I've seen do Eurovision in recent years who clearly displays his commitment to the three minutes of doom so many UK artists shy away from.

OK, so it may not have been a winner, but I listened to it a lot on my iPod thingy in the run up to the 2008 contest. That's makes it a goodun for me.

And yes. I'm biassed.

See shots of Andy and the other competitors in the UK's Eurovision:Your Decision rehearsals here.

Monday 10 March 2008

# 29 Ding Dinge Dong



Today saw quite a startling discovery in terms of Eurovisionness (if that's a word).

I reckoned the time had come to reveal a seminal Eurovision song to the world. It is Teach-In's Ding Dinge Dong (or is it Ding A Dong? I really can't be sure even though I have researched it in three different places) from the 1975 Eurovision Song Contest which saw my interest in Eurovision reignited.

Around about ten years ago the ex of my long-suffering partner Simon came round one evening for a spot of socialising. It could have been that he was making sure that Simon's new chap was up to the required "standard", I'm not sure. That aside, it was one of my CDs which Simon played to fill in the gaping silence which descended over the room from time to time.

Ding Dinge Dong was one of the tracks Simon played from my "Eurovision Winners Double CD of Joy" and which which sparked the interest of our guest for the evening. "I forgotten all about this. This was my favourite." It turned out our guest hadn't really consumed any Eurovision stuff since 1975.

Up until that point I thought I was pretty much the only person who confessed a love of this much-maligned event. Most people cast me a confused eye when I admitted to having "a number" of contests on video. Now, someone else with an otherwise healthy interest in the show had given one of it's winning songs some kudos.

Now I come to search on youTube for Teach-In's performance in 1975 contest I realise that there are a number of versions which amuse and entertain for a variety of reasons.

Shocking revelation number one is that until this afternoon I had absolutely no idea that the Netherlands pre-selection show featured three (possibly more) different performances of the same song. There was Teach-In's, power-singer "Debbie" and - by far the grooviest affair - one by Albert West.

As I delved deeper however, I discovered a brass band arrangement , a souped up (but no less satisfying) version by Russian blokey Alexey Glyzin and by far the best remix accompanying a slightly uncomfortable video by "Jane et Moi"

But by far the most entertaining is the simplest rendition of all. Included thus. Sometimes you don't need all the bells and whistles to deliver a punchy tune.



Thursday 6 March 2008

# 28 Macédomienne



Chris clearly understands what this week has been about. And his suggestion was a song I'd forgotten all about. Listening to it did, at first, raise a smile if only because I recalled how I'd rather taken to it's solitary tone so quickly when I heard it in 1990. A couple of minutes in however, it did rather tap into the dark side.

That's the thing about this song. As marvellously indulgent the sumptuous strings are in the live performance there's a deep melancholy about it which can, for those who could probably do with a few more carbs in their system, push certain individuals over the edge.

As sad as it sounds, there is a sense of hope about it. I don't say this with any deep understanding of the lyrics. My rather paltry research has only revealed that the title means "My Macedonian Woman". It's the sound of the music which is melancholic and hopeful all at the same time.

Eurovision songs used to help me recall what was going on around late spring in the year each particular song made it's appearance. Given that this is the first time I've put out the feelers for a song to review on what must seem quite a bizarre Eurovision blog, I'm in no doubt that this song will forever remind me of what has been quite possibly the most difficult week in a long time.

Please resist the tempation for sympathy. Macédomienne is full of hope ... I think.

Oh .. and I'm aware that the clip above isn't the live performance from the actual Eurovision. That's because the video clip I've found isn't the greatest quality. But, if you're a purist and you want see his live performance, watch the version below. Go on .. you get to hear it a second time that way. ;)

Tuesday 4 March 2008

# 27 I can't live without music


Maybe it's because I am in a spectacularly foul mood today and ready to hit out at anyone who dares to come near me that I've picked out this shameful example of Eurovision hideousness. It's a cautionary tale about what happens when people start letting their woeful lack of understanding about tv performances spiral out of control.

Just imagine it. What we need is someone singing this song whose affliction (Corinna is blind, if you didn't know it - most will) will make the lyrics all the more poignant. She's going to find it difficult to jig about on stage so we'll thrown in some dancers and backing singers who can do that as well.

The result ? A terrible looking performance eclipsed by one of the particularly bad acts in Eurovision that year (Russia and Cyprus were even worse) although nowhere near as excrutiating as the UK's now infamous appearance the year after when Jemini suffered their humiliation. The backing singers literally scream into their microphones, the intonation is all off and even the gratuitous key-change doesn't improve things either.

Little wonder Germany came close to bottom of the pile that year in 21st place with a measely 17 points. A real shame, as its clear that May has the power to deliver a punchy melody. She is clearly an able singer, just not in these conditions.

But the cherry on the cake, every time I listen to this song is the penultimate line of the lyrics. "Music makes me feel like flyin', gives me hope when I'm a cryin'" Pass me the sick bucket, quickly.

Should anyone feel the need to ease my troubled brow with a suitably calming suggestion of the next Eurovision song you think I should listen to, then please let me know using the handy comments box below.

Friday 29 February 2008

# 26 Invincible





I look at this video of Carola singing "Invincible" for Sweden in 2006 and think only one thing. Let's throw as much as we possibly can at the lighting budget and pour the rest into the rental of the wind machine assuming, of course, there's something left over from the costume work.

It should come as no surprise that this particular song actually makes my skin crawl.

Don't get me wrong. It's punchy. Carola (Eurovision stalwart and one time winner for Sweden) gives a very polished performance and proves beyond any doubt that her singing abilities are totally reliable. She owns the stage and more importantly shows how comfortable she feels singing in such large arenas. Carola is made for television.

But that's also my problem with it. The song, the performance and the act feels packaged. It feels like the same kind of factory driven output I detect when I pick up a packet of supposedly "freshly made in the capital" sandwiches. It's like the people behind the thing know exactly the recipe for what the niche audience wants - ie tub-thumping, anthemic choruses delivered by a relative Queen of Eurovision - and delivers it time and time again.

Carola is lovely - the hour I spent with her in her hotel room accompanied by her entourage was an absolute joy. She was interested in answering my questions and what ever preconceptions I might have had regarding her personal beliefs and how they fitted in with her love of Eurovision seemed irrelevant at the end of the interview she participated in.

Still, I can't bear listening to this song. It's horribly cliched, more so than many other Eurovision songs.

Wednesday 27 February 2008

# 25 Better the devil you know

As requested by Chris, stalwart commenter on this still relatively new blog, I am indeed moving on from Italy 1974 to something slightly more predictable and a little more recent.

Well, I say recent I do actually mean from fifteen years ago. Sonia, bounced up and down on the Eurovision stage in 1993 singing her perky number "Better the devil you know" and coming in a marvellous second place in the final tally. (Second place is really not a bad position to be in, especially as I did rather warm to the first place song that year from Ireland.)

Sometimes I reckon on the bare facts of a Eurovision song being cold and uninteresting. That's why, for the majority of these posts, I leave such matters to those who know more or whose encyclopaedia is a little closer to hand than mine. (In truth, my particular book is actually at the bottom of a pile of papers to the right of my desk. To be honest, I really can't be arsed to bend down and retrieve it.)

Consequently, in the run up to the UK's opportunity to choose it's song in the Eurovision: Your Decision final I ask you to click the play button (if you haven't already), sit back and enjoy some good honest pop.

A competent performance, a marvellous set, a smashing combination of purple and ginger and a rapturous applause at the end of it. What more could you ask for? *

* That's a rhetorical question.

Monday 25 February 2008

# 24 Si



Another confession needed for the latest Thoroughly Good Eurovision video. This isn't something I'd actually heard that many times before, still less realised it originated from the 1974 contest. I didn't stumble on the song trawling the internet either.

My attention was drawn to Gigliola Cinquetti singing "Si" for Italy solely because of a meeting I was in with a new colleague in which I ended up talking about the projects I was working on. Inevitably - for professional reasons I might add - Eurovision came up.

"Si, 1974. It was brilliant," said Sally, her eyes clearly lit up by the prospect of either discussing Eurovision history or by the opportunity to test a supposed fan's knowledge.

I was running on empty at that moment in time so the idea of talking Eurovision history filled me with fear and dread. I confessed I knew little of the song title she was talking about but went straight to youTube and searched for it.

"That's it! That's it!" said Sally pointing at the small thumbnail on the page. "That's the one."

I recognised the set instantly. "Oh!" I said clicking on the link and waiting for the video to start, relieved I could clutch on to something I knew and at least attempt to sound as though I was in some way knowledgeable. "That was Brighton. The year Abba won!"

"Fuck Abba!" replied Sally, "Italy should have won that year."

As we listened to the song and Sally gestured with her arms in time with the soaring melody, I had to agree that Italy's effort that year was something very special indeed. This wasn't fluff or handbag music (both of which is acceptable and encouraged in equal measure) but instead a considered melody with a fair amount of passion delivered in a suitably understated fashion.

I can't say that I have ever heard anyone say "Fuck Abba!" before. Up until the other day Abba were, in my eyes at least, the god's of Eurovision. Abba were the people who had demonstrated how it was possible to win Eurovision and come out the other side.

Mind you, it's always nice to have a totally left-of-centre opinion come at you like a freight train.

(And yes, for those of you with an encyclopaedic knowledge, I know that Gigliola Cinquetti won for Italy in 1964. We'll get on to that later.)

Gigliola Cinquetti came second at the 1974 Eurovision Song Contest with her song "Si".

Thursday 14 February 2008

# 23 Eighties coming back



Bless this bunch of laid back Estonian representatives from 2003. Their's was a good song, with a fresh sound (possibly imitated from other bands I can't quite put my finger on right now) that offered something of a relief from all the others on offer in the 2003 Contest.

Simple, yet effective. Well executed. In tune and a tub-thumper to boot.

Shame it came 14th that year.

Wednesday 13 February 2008

# 22 Go



Here's an example of something the UK does best. The recipe is really quite straightforward.

1. Get a good song with a convincing sound. Keep the idea simple. Don't let it get out of hand.

2. Get a reasonably low-key singer who can carry a tune. He may not necessarily immediately appear young and hip or, indeed, made for television. The key thing here is making sure he can deliver the song.

3. Make it clear to any hopeful choreographers that their services are not required for this particular act.

5. Sing the song. Get off the stage. Maintain credibility at all times. Don't let anything get out of hand.

Love it.

Poor old Scott Fitzgerald. He sang a beautiful song and did unexpectedly well in the 1988 Eurovision. The UK and Swiss acts made this particular event one of the most nail-biting in the show's history. There were genuine roars of disappointment when Celine Dion finally clinched her lead over Scott Fitzgerald in the final vote.

If only Scott had got his hair done. Maybe things might have been different.

Friday 8 February 2008

# 21 Boogaloo



I've got guilty pleasures on the brain, clearly. So, seeing as I have, now seems to be a good time to reveal another one. Ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats for Sweden's contribution to the European pop music canon. A song called Boogaloo sung by the adorable, if colour-blind, Ms Lotta Engberg.

The song didn't do badly in the ranking (it came twelfth the year Johnny Logan won with his power-ballad Hold me now), but didn't exactly get loads of points. It mustered only 50 when the final bell tolled.

Maybe it was the costumes. Maybe it was the tropical sound which clashed with the fact that the singer came from and represented Sweden. Or maybe it was the sight of bright yellow again lurid pink which acted as the final nail in the coffin.

Whatever the cause, I do still rather like this song. It makes me smile. And I reckon that's acceptable in Eurovision land. It certainly beats any act who considers its artistically vital to step on to the stage dressed as ugly aliens. But more on the 2006 Finnish win some other time.

What's "reasonably" interesting about this little ditty is that in the national selections on Swedish TV Lotta Engberg sang about (I think) "Four pieces of gum and a coca-cola" (listen out in the chorus in the video at the bottom of this post).

This, not surprisingly, was deemed a step too far by the powers that be at the European Broadcasting Union. It is they who, quite understandably, have to bear such considerations in mind as regards product placement. And yes, singing about a Coca-Cola might be seen by some as just that. Consequently, the lyrics were changed for the Eurovision final.

In addition to the difference in lyrics evident in the video below, there's also an interesting parallel to be drawn about the atmosphere of the national event compared to the European one. Yes, I know it sounds sad and dull, but if you're looking to win this contest it is all now about performance. The smaller the venue, the closer you are to the band and the audience, the better and more convincing the performance is going to be.

Not only that ... If you're an eagle-eyed viewer (and one who appreciates geeky references) you may possibly recognise some elements of the TV set from the Luxembourg song a few posts back. The Swedish national final below was two years after Sweden hosted the Eurovision in 1985. I suspect there was a spot of tv-set "recycling" going on. Jeeze, these broadcasters are tight when it comes to money.

(Oh and by the way .. the lyrics "knowledge" wasn't down to me. No, I have to come clean. That was down to mailto:eueurodave2000@yahoo.co.uk. Email him and tell him what a geek he is.)


Thursday 7 February 2008

# 20 Ka' Du Se Hva' Jeg Sa'

I make no apology for the fact that this song, sung by "Hot Eyes" in the 1988 Eurovision does much to stimulate the over-production of serotonin in my simple, naiive mind. It has nothing to do with the fact that Denmark ranked 3rd at the end of the contest behind Celine Dion and the UK's Scott Fitzgerald.

Quite apart from being one of the most difficult song titles to pronounce, Ka' Du Se Hva' Jeg Sa' epitomises everything which is simple, naff and shamelessly bright and perky. The performance is nothing but pantomime - just look out for the shameless amateur dramatics at the end involving the guitar and the conductor - and yet despite that I find it charming. Post-modern irony or people stuck in a time warp? It's very difficult to say. I do, however, have a recording of it on my phone and listen to it often, sometimes daily.

It was in fact the very song I was listening to when this smashing little picture was taken. Earlier on that morning, shortly before I ran off to catch a train to Manchester for a meeting, I learnt I'd be working on a website I've always rather fancied the idea of being involved in. It would be no exaggeration to say that I had a spring in my step all the way down to the station. I was one seriously happy bunny.

And if you're wondering which website I'm talking about it, I'd suggest you just have some kind of random stab in the dark. Your first guess will almost certainly be correct (and no, it's not a porn site).

Friday 1 February 2008

# 18 Ole Ole

Israel's song from 1985. The perfect little Friday night party song. High octane, tight skinned drums and simple but colourful dance routine.

I defy anyone who listens to this not to feel their heart rate increase just a little bit when the string players do their stuff in the final few bars of the song.

And, in case you didn't already know, the lead singer, Izhar Cohen, had previously won the Eurovision in 1978 with Abanibi. He didn't win this time around. That treat went to Norway.


Wednesday 30 January 2008

Interval Feature # 1

Not for the first time over the past five years do I find myself asking the question “Why is the Eurovision so terribly important to me?” It’s a question I unexpectedly found myself asking a week before the 2002 Eurovision in Tallinn, Estonia. It was a moment which left an indelible mark.

I remember exactly where I was sitting and what I was doing at that moment. Sat at my grey desk, overlooking a typically messy IT support department somewhere in the City of London, I poured over the emails in my inbox.

Email after email listed IT problems demanding immediate attention. Bold red messages rung out with tired inevitability as I scrolled down the screen. I remember looking down at my keyboard and then at my hand clamped to the mouse and then letting out a sigh. I can always be relied on for a spot of self-induced melodrama.

Predictably, I ended up getting distracted by the contents of my own personal email account. I checked it. Then I checked it again. Then I checked it a third time. Surely something would arrive which would allow me to coast through the remainder of the day before my journey home.

A few months before I’d been working on writing some articles for a website I had built. The website was nothing particularly exciting – just a place where members of a social group could post their adverts and find out where and when their next get together was – but for some reason I reckoned what the website needed was a series of articles. I got friends to write some pieces and, inevitably, I threw one into the mix about the Eurovision.

That very process prompted me to review that year’s songs. Pictures I’d grabbed from the internet accompanied what I thought were fairly dull assessments of each act’s presentation. “It will do,” I thought, “I like the layout and I like the fact I’ve made it look like a BBC webpage. It will do.” Up it went on my website for all to see.

What I hadn’t anticipated was an email from someone managing a Eurovision fan website based in the Netherlands. I can’t remember his name nor the website address but it seemed from even a cursory glance over his work that his efforts had been considerable, mine somewhat paltry in comparison. Despite that, his email was charming, flattering even, complimenting me on what I’d written and promising to include a link on his website to that very page.

We conversed via email over a couple of days about this and that until the point he announced that he and his partner were going to be off email for the next few days as “We’re leaving for Tallinn this afternoon! So very excited.”

“He’s going to Tallinn?” I thought, “Why on earth would anybody be going to Estonia to see the Eurovision when you can watch it on TV? What’s the point in going to the Eurovision a full week before the actual show?

It’s true. Back then I had absolutely no idea. It seemed utterly bizarre to me. And yet, at almost the same time, the strangest feeling came over me. Without any warning and certainly no immediately explicable reason, I suddenly began to feel incredibly jealous, incredibly lonely and incredibly left-out. Everyone else was going to Tallinn to see the Eurovision. The thought hadn’t even crossed my mind. How could I feel I was missing out when I didn’t know what I was missing out on?

I still can’t come up with a reason, even after five years. It’s one of many aspects of this bizarre event which leaves me wondering one fundamental question. How on earth a television programme can provoke such strong emotions in a 30 year old man? If you think you could hazard a guess, please let me know.

Saturday 26 January 2008

# 16 No estas solo



Roll up, roll up for my most favouritist song in the Eurovision Song Contest ever.


No estas solo, sung by Patricia Kraus', represented Spain in 1987 at a contest which oozed visual style both in it's presenter Viktor Laslo and the set. It makes me tingle watching it. And yes, I do watch it in its entirety from time to time even now.


Kraus' performance is powerful, even if her make-up is a little alarming close up, and this is no way understated by her choice of body morphing outfit which grips her waist like a vice.


I remember pouring over the video back in 1987 and somehow marvellous at the way she strode on to the stage with a green chiffon scarf across her shoulders. "She's not going to be able to sing with that on her," I remember thinking when I watched the contest and, sure enough, off she tosses it almost as soon as she's perched on her stool.


There was one other reason this particular act caught my eye and it's still the case now. I seem to recall thinking the miming guitarists were quite cute at the time. It's one of the few Eurovision opinions I had then I still have now.

But if there's one thing about this particular song which drives me wild every time I hear its that falling chord in the chorus before Kraus sings "radio" and does the twirly-mad action with her finger. That one chord turns me to jelly every single time.

Kraus came a miserable 19th place with a miserable 10 points in 1987. Frankly, I don't care about the score or the placing. Not really, anyway.

# 14 Poupee de cire, poupee de son

If ever there was a song which defies the Eurovision stereotype most people thrust upon the television show. You might listen to this for the first time and think "What the bloody hell is this nonsense?"

This "nonsense" was the song which won for Luxembourg in 1965, sung by a 17 year-old understated glamour-puss France Gall and written by none other than Mr Serge Gainsbourg himself.

I always forget that all important fact - the composer's name. So whenever I'm reminded I nearly always end up thinking it's hardly surprising the song sounds as unusual musically as it does.

The racing rhythm section is daring for a pop song, so too the relatively short verse. Look at the entire song and you'll see it only last two minutes eighteen seconds (a full forty seconds short of the three minute limit imposed on all composers for their songs in the Contest) - if you're looking to make an impression on judges you'd think everyone would want to maximise all of the time available to them.

The sound is evocative, the lyrics ironic. But perhaps the most striking thing to me looking at it now is the way that Gall doesn't have to leap around the stage in order to make a distinct impression. This is intense musical writing delivered by a girl with a sparkle in her eyes. Like Dansevise, Poupee de cire poupee de son gave Eurovision an unexpected musical integrity even if it wasn't immediately obvious then or still perceptable now.

# 13 Dansevise

In Eurovision circles there's a massive question mark over the 1963 Eurovision Song Contest, which this song from Denmark sung by Grethe Ingman won.

John Kennedy O'Connor's Eurovision book raises the thorny issue again about whether the songs were pre-recorded by the BBC in the event they hosted from the then newly built Television Centre in West London.

Look closely and you'll not see any microphones in shot. Look even closer and you may, like me, wonder whether the singers are singing at all seeing as the breaths they take don't seem hearty enough. We don't see the usual shots of the orchestra. There's not shot of the audience during the songs. Historians love this kind of thing.

Is that paranoia? Is this Eurovision fandom looking for conspiracy and intrigue when it's not there?

Well, possibly. Today is the first time I've actually heard Dansevise. I haven't stopped playing it all day. It has an unusual style to it with an ingratiating lilt sung by a woman with a sparkle in her eyes, an enticing smile and momentary pout. It's a song with a melody so strong and catchy that I was able to whistle the tune as soon as I'd heard it. In that respect, this song transcends the Eurovision style as it was in those early years (very "middle of the road" in terms of pop and certainly not reflective of the Beatle's then success) and certainly transcends Eurovision now.

Musically, it's quite unusual too. Here's a jazz-based song with an unusual yet organic melody accompanied by a dizzying array of chords. The unusual orchestration is more reminiscent of the year it was performed in (unusual in Eurovision terms) and, because of its relative complexity stands up well to repeat listens. Who knew Eurovision songs could be so robust?

If there's a huge question over whether the BBC filmed the event then in 1963, listening to the song now makes that question of little import to me even though I'm the first to admit I'm a pendant when it comes to protecting the Eurovision traditions even if they're outmoded.

Quite apart from Denmark's strongest song in the entire history and a shameless love of nostalgia on my part, there is another reason I find this act and the 1963 contest as a whole one of the most appealing events in the Contest's history.

I walk through Television Centre nearly every day on my way to meetings. Sometimes I meet friends for a drink in the bar or take my lunch in the canteen a short walk away from the tower I have my desk in. These places and the studios I walk past are where Eurovision history in 1963 was secured and where I find myself indulging my shameless love of nostalgia. To most people the studios are vast ugly spaces situated in a relatively inaccessible part of London where few people want to visit. To me, they're places with a palpable sense of history, a sometimes overwhelming feeling.

I've deliberately included the reprise of the song at the end of the contest below. Before I'd seen the video of the contest I'd spent a week pouring over the files at the BBC's Written Archive Centre in Caversham reading what was discussed, what was planned, who was frustrated with whom, who wasn't delivering on their word and what plans the commissionaires had to follow to make sure the artists didn't get lost in Television Centre.

The names which croppped up in the letters and the memos and the minutes of meetings with frightening regularity were the names of the production staff in the credits at the end of show.

Those names almost certainly won't mean anything to anyone now. Despite that, I'm struck by one key thing which struck me back at the Written Archives Centre. In 1963 the Eurovision Song Contest was directed by a woman, Yvonne Littlewood. That was very, very unusual.

I could wax lyrical about 1963 but there's no space to here. Still, at least there are fifteen other things from that year...

Friday 25 January 2008

# 12 Give a little love back to the world

No offence to the composer (who was also the lyricist) Paul Curtis who wrote the UK's effort for the 1990 Eurovision Song Contest, but this song does meet the "dross criteria" spectacularly well.

It did do well and it struck a chord with many at the time. It hooked in to the concern being focussed on environmental issues - some things haven't changed really. It ended up coming sixth. And whilst there are some moments in this song which do rather make me tingle (like the soaring descant the lady on the left in blue is responsible for in the second and third choruses), the song as a whole makes me wriggle with embarrassment.

I can't quite work out whether it's the cheesy presentation on stage (the lead singer is dressed to make her look a lot older than she really is), the saccharin message of the song or indeed the crude attempt to reflect the message amongst the line-up of singers. Whatever it is, this particular doesn't stand the test of time.

Thursday 24 January 2008

# 11 Musik klingt in die Welt hinaus

Keen to meet the demands of the handful of people who read and comment on this Thoroughly Good Eurovision blog, I hereby offer up what I consider to be a terribly fine example of a Eurovision effort. And of course, by effort I really do mean "effort". I might even go as far as to say that this presentation from Switzerland at the 1990 Eurovision truly is utter dross.

I don't even know or care where they came in the ranking. I'd rather listen to the music bed Terry Wogan chunters over as he introduces the song.

Don't even get me started on that suit Egon's wearing.

# 10 No dream impossible

Lindsay Dracass sang for the UK in 2001. I remember watching it on the night and thinking it was OK. It struck a chord even though I didn't realise it. Her live performance was pretty good given the demands of the song and her relatively young age. She carried off the performance well. She did us proud. The crowd went wild at the end when she hit the top note. Just take a look at the video embedded at the bottom of this post.

But it's not the Eurovision performance which hits me like a freight train. It is in fact the video release available on the CD single. That's the embedded video at the top of the post. It's for a ridiculously personal reason I love it.

Five years ago (very nearly to the day) I went to the BBC's Written Archive Centre in Caversham. Back then I was working in an IT department depressed as hell about the work I was doing, yearning to do something challenging and something creative. It all seemed too impossible for me to imagine.

Then I hit upon the idea of researching the Eurovision. I was going to write a book. I'd need to find out about it. I had to go to the Written Archive Centre in Caversham and have a look around, see what I could find.

That was just the beginning. At every stage in the research process I was amazed about the chance things which happened. What started off seeming like the most ridiculous idea quickly gathered pace. Maybe this wasn't such an impossible dream after all.

Every time I hear Lindsay's song I do remember the moment I was on the train, the day I went to the Written Archive Centre the first time. Every line seemed to mean something.

Now, minutes before I go to a meeting about the Eurovision again, amazed that I find myself there, I listen to this song and feel the same way I did back then. Totally excited and utterly humbled by the experience.

Tuesday 22 January 2008

# 9 Don't ever cry

I remember this song well from the 1993 Eurovision. The Croatian band Put gave the audience a stylish performance with their song Don't Ever Cry.

It was terribly simple, terribly sad and terribly hopeful all at the same time. Given events in Croatia at the time, the song's title seemed the complete opposite to how I felt at the end of it.

I was certain it would win when I heard it for the first time a few weeks before. Consequently it's 15th place in the final tally was surprising and disappointing.

# 8 Bandido

No need to spend a huge amount of time introducing this. Terry Wogan does the job adequately in this clip from the 1990 Eurovision from Zagreb in the former Yugoslavia.

Wogan wasn't in any way expecting what he and the rest of us had to see. This was one of those genuine Eurovision moments.

Yes, it's true. We might have been hearing the music but the dancers and the "backing group" couldn't hear a thing. Hence the confusion as they stood centre stage wondering what the hell was going on.

And of course, in case you're wondering, Bandido were singing for Spain at the beginning of the contest. This was one hell of a live TV mess.

It wasn't all bad. The two Spanish ladies (and don't be any doubt, they OWN the stage) came back fighting delivering a damn good performance and a well deserved 5th place.


The song has lived on in numerous remixes since then and secured Spain a well deserved place in Eurovision history.

Why Spain from 1990 today? Well, it would have been Spain from 1988 or 1992. But the final decision was made by EuroDave2000 who seems to be quite knowledgeable about these things. Many thanks to him.

If, like me you're not too taken with the quality of the clip above, you can always visit this version which, disappointingly, doesn't allow me to embed in this blog, the rotters.

Monday 21 January 2008

# 7 Toi, la musique et moi



Personally speaking, 1976 was quite a good year in Eurovision terms. No, I don't mean because the UK romped to victory with Brotherhood of Man's Save all your kisses for me. More, there were a number of smashing songs.

My favourite is, without doubt, Marie Christy singing Toi, la musique et moi. This song has gone through a rigorous test procedure this afternoon and come out good in all reports.

Quite apart from the conductor's smashing smoking jacket visible at the beginning of this clip, I'm especially excited to see the gracefully elegant Ms Christie shimmy effortlessly along to this shameless disco number. The high spot is, without doubt, the sight of Christie throwing back her head in advance of belting out the final note. Here's one performer clearly enjoying her job. As for hair? Stunning, absolutely stunning.

The backing singers have that 70s groove going whilst maintaining a stylish elegance too. Assuming the colours I'm seeing here aren't the result of faded TV, I especially like the two purple colours. Very nice.

Listen out for the bass player in the orchestra too. His is by far the most satisfying musical line I've heard during this Eurovision-research-thing I'm doing. And yes, that's quite a geeky thing to point out, musically speaking.

Sunday 20 January 2008

# 6 Where are you?

The UK didn't always used to be bad at Eurovision. We did churn out some quite good stuff every now and again as this smashing performance from Imaani in 1998 clearly shows.

Yes, I'm biassed.

# 5 My number one



Yet another confession to be made with this particular Eurovision song, one which won for Greece in 2005. It wasn't until a few days ago I discovered that Helen Paparizou actually sang for Greece in 2001. That lack of simple knowledge is really quite shameful. (Listen out for the hoards of "serious" Eurovision fans chase after me with rusty spears as a result.)

This is not the only confession here. The truth is that after having completed what is a very rigorous testing procedure where this particular song is concerned, I have to say that this isn't a song I'd necessarily want to hear again.

The song does tick some good Eurovision boxes however. The verse has an ethnic feel to it - there was a time when the aim of the contest was for countries to submit songs to the final which represented their cultural identity. The choreography on stage is considerably tighter than in the 2001 show and Helena shows the performance experience she's obviously gained over the years. How anyone is able to deliver a song powerfully and confidently like she does at the same time as leaping around the stage is quite impressive.

In those respects it's not surprising that Greece won with the song they did. Here was a plausible television act with a tub-thumping beat representing a country which was long overdue for a win. Who could deny Greece a win? No, not even me. I just don't think I particularly want to hear the song again.

Saturday 19 January 2008

# 4 Beg, steal or borrow

Heard this for the first time this evening.

Is that bad? I mean, this being the UK's song for the 1972 Eurovision and me being born in 1972 and everything? I mean, really? Is that bad? Am I a really shit Eurovision fan?

I really enjoyed it listening to it for the first time this evening. It seemed terribly me.

# 3 Die for You

Die for You featured in the 2001 Eurovision. I didn't actually realise that until only yesterday. Up until that point I'd known Die for You was a Eurovision song (and a surprising one at that) but hadn't known when it featured or who had sung it.

Somewhere after the UK last hosted the Eurovision (back in 1998) and 2002 I lost interest in the Eurovision for some reason. I still recorded it on video, convinced that having a library of videoed contests would prove useful in years to come, but didn't watch a single contest live until 2003.

Consequently Die for You was one of many songs I only heard on audio downloading it from the original Napster service. I did a search for Eurovision. "Antique - Die for You" was one track returned in the search.

It's an unusually satisfying track to listen to. It's flicks all the switches in the space of 3 minutes.

There are still some astonishing clichés in it. The chord progressions in the chorus crop up in lots of different songs and classical music. It’s short hand. Just listen to the instrumental break at the end of the first chorus.

The beat is fast enough to walk quickly to (very useful for listening to when running late for a meeting) which although not a cliché in itself, does afford the composer enough time to run through a couple of verses and choruses before racking up the tension and resolving with a good shameless key change before the end.

I can’t quite put my finger on exactly why I like it, but there’s a hint of the kind of excitement I get whenever I visit a forward thinking European country where the air is fresh and the skies are blue. I don’t quite know how I get that from the song, but I do.

What's surprising for me (having only just watched this video for the first time today) is what the singer went on to do for Greece only a few years later. The comparisons between the two performances are really quite surprising, at least they surprise me at any rate. Maybe I'll make that video the subject for the next post.

Die for You, sung by Antique, came third for Greece in 2001 with 147 points. And no, I don’t know that off the top of my head, I copied it from a book.

Thursday 17 January 2008

# 2 L'Amour de ma vie

Imagine yourself in her shoes. You’re Canadian, standing on a stage in Norway, singing a song in French, representing Luxembourg. A floor manager gives you and your backing singers a shove on to the stage. You’ve got to stride into position, stand upstage on your own, looking confident. For god’s sake smile.

In front of you, somewhere in the dark void, are thousands of people, smartly dressed, waiting for the show to begin. Between them and you is a massive gap occupied by television cameras and one or two people standing around with headphones on.

Who do you sing to? The audience or the cameras? Where are the audience? Where are the sodding cameras?

Oh, and don’t forget, you’ll need to hit the right notes, sing in tune, present a convincing performance bearing in mind the sedate tempo of the song you’re singing and the rather drab set you’re standing on.

Oh .. and your dress looks fine and for god’s sake don’t forget to smile.

Oh and in case you didn’t already know, you’re the first performance of the night, you’ve only got three minutes, this is a live performance and yes, I know we’ve got a recording of the dress rehearsal we did yesterday in case of dire emergencies but you’re never going to know whether we use that or not so you might as well treat this as the performance of your life. No pressure.

Sherisse Laurence opened the 1986 Eurovision Song Contest from Bergen with this song. After twenty years it’s still the reassuringly simple and ultimately beautiful song it was when I heard it back then. She carries off a confident performance on a stage which could have easily made the relatively static presentation appear bland and uninspiring.

It’s tough to sing too. It might sound simple but the melodic range is considerable – listen out for the octave leap right at the end – something which is bound to fill even the most confident of live performers with a certain amount of fear.

And how did it do? Well, if it the juries hadn’t been distracted by the thirteen year old girl from Belgium masquerading as a fifteen year old presenting her bubblegum pop to the rest of Europe, the gorgeous Sherisse may well have had a stab at the top slot. Instead she came in at a respectable third.

Wednesday 16 January 2008

# 1 Love is blue

Love is Blue may not immediately strike the passer-by as the most typical Eurovision song to feature first in this blog. The song sung at the 1967 Eurovision by a 14 year-old Vicky Leandros doesn’t conform to all the usual Eurovision stereotypes.

There’s no key change for a start. There’s no oompah-oompah sound. No eye-catching costumes.

That was all to come in later years. Some even consider it was signalled by the song which won the contest the same year Love is Blue was performed – the UK’s Puppet on a String.

In stark contrast, Love is Blue offers a strong yet hauntingly simple melody with an unusual orchestral accompaniment. There’s an earthiness to the overall sound in no small part down to the medieval sound of chord progressions and the switch to a major chord right at the end of the song. The seemingly endless repetitions of the simple melodic phrase which opens the song sucessfully permeates the brain making this song difficult to forget.


Was it a calculated move on the part of the composer Andre Poppe? It would certainly have done much to have cemented the thought of the song in the mind of the international juries at the time. That combined with the surprisingly mature sound of its singer and its undoubtedly simple yet stylish presentation would have made an impact.

It wasn't to be. Luxembourg didn't exactly languish in the final ranking, but it's fourth place at the end of the voting is a little bemusing looking back now. The song contains some ingenious writing.

But it's the subsequent commercial success of Love is Blue which secures the song’s place in Eurovision history. Paul Mauriat’s instrumental version released in 1968 secured five weeks at the top of the US charts in the same year. Featuring Mauriat’s trademark easy listening orchestral sound, it was this version which championed Andre Poppe’s melody even if the finished product sounds a little sanitised in comparison.

Should Love is Blue have won instead in 1967? I’ve been agonising over whether or not it should have done but have settled on an answer which mixes hindsight with a sense of superiority. The fact the song has become famous in it’s own right since Vicky Leandross’ performance gives it a kudos far weightier than a Eurovision win could have given it. And where Eurovision is concerned, kudos is everything.

The video below features the 1968 re-recording in a live performance conducted by Paul Mauriat himself.


Tuesday 15 January 2008

Setting a ridiculous challenge
















It's early. Well, earlier than I would normally get up, get dressed and start writing. The wind is blowing hard, rain hitting the window pane. The prospect of setting out in that weather is a grim thought.

Fortunately, I have a distraction. Late last night I started doing a spot of research. Referring to a well thumbed copy of John Kennedy O'Connor 50 Years Eurovision Song Contest The Official History (yes, the title really is that long) I started counting up the number of Eurovision songs there had ever been.

In truth I was in fact only able to count all the songs from the Contest's inception in 1956 up until 2004. The remaining contests (2005 up until the present day) aren't documented in this reasonably sized tome.

If I counted correctly - and forgive me, it was late, there is a chance I might have double counted some songs or missed some off with the blunt end of my pencil - there have been an astonishing 913 songs showcased in the Eurovision Song Contest over the years.

I turned to my partner in bed beside me and communicated my surprise. Nothing but snores emanated from his side of the bed.

I've always been strangely intrigued by the contest. As a small boy I'd position myself in front of the TV screen, scoresheet on my right hand side, comments sheet on my left hand side, a collection of sharpened pencils in the middle and and a pencil sharpener should it become necessary during the live TV show.

Eurovision was an event for me and, twenty odd years later as I started researching a book about the annual music fest which I still haven't got around to writing, I realised it was for thousands of others too.

If there was one message which rung out loud and clear during those two or three years of research it was that contrary to what my own friends reckoned about my knowledge of the Eurovision, there were many, many others who had considerably more knowledge about it than I did.

"Call yourself a fan of the Eurovision and you can't recall who sang for Portugal in 1972?" an acquaintance drip-fed on Eurovision minutae often berates me. "No," I reply, "it was the year I was born. I don't remember very much." Such defences have no weight in the Eurovision world.

It was with this in mind that I started counting up just how many of the songs listed at the end of John Kennedy O'Connor's book I actually knew from the index list. Considering my love of the Contest it was a shamefully embarrassing number.

So it is I set myself the challenge to increase the paltry total of 208 songs I know by setting about listening to every single Eurovision song ever performed in a contest and blogging about it here.

It seems like a simple task - a good deal more simple than when I began researching the phantom Eurovision book I was going to write. Five years ago youTube hadn't been started, the original Napster been declared bankrupt and there was hardly anything in written form about the Contest. Five years later there's an enormous resource available on the internet. Fans upload favourite clips from contests gone by, writers who are able to finish books they started researching provide useful historical resources and blogging systems offers people like me with an opinion a relatively straightforward way of getting stuff on the web.

Eurovision is littered with fine examples of concise pop songs. Every song which competes in the show has to conform to a 3 minute rule if only to keep the live television broadcast down to a realistic timeframe. Within that 3 minute constraint pop composers have demonstrated great ingenuity, shameless imitation and way too many key changes just to secure a vote from a jury or a telephone vote from a tv-viewer.

All of these efforts are nearly lost on those who pour scorn on the Eurovision year in year out. The Eurovision song is bubblegum pop, formed out of necessity to fill the time of a live TV show which reputedly brings Europe together for one night of the year. The idea of exploring all of those efforts day in day out strikes me as crazy, exciting and, possibly, just a little bit weird too. It's going to be Christmas Day every day. No wonder there's a smile on my face as I write this.

Don't expect great long posts (they'll never be as long as this, I promise) or great historical facts. Instead look on this as your daily Eurovision diet, a diet guaranteed to get you up and about, charged with enthusiasm and possibly a little bit happier than you were before you clicked on the play button.

The songs appear in no particular order. If there's video available, it will be available in the post. If I haven't been able to find an audio version the song will be listed in the archive. Each posting will have a tag with the year it was performed, the artist it was performed by and the country it represented.

I can hardly wait.