# 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.

# 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.

# 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".

# 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.

# 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.

# 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.)

# 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).

# 19 Children kinder enfants

# 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.