Euro Idiot Box
Created | Updated Jun 1, 2010
Reaping the Whirlwind
In a week when there was much talk of the failure of the UN, much discussion of the UK government's attitude to the Euro, and much controversy over the proposed draft constitution for the EU, it was nice to see that at least one international decision-making body continued to prosper. Yes, folks, it's Eurovision Song Contest time again! Dah-dah-diddle-ah-dah-daah-da-dah, de-dah-diddle-ah-dah-diddle-iddle-ah!
This year's contest was broadcast live from Riga, following last year's slightly suspect win by statuesque exhibitionist Marie N, and the question on everyone's lips was - would the Baltic block vote swing it again? As I explained this time last year, the actual quality of song and performance normally comes a distant second place to whether or not it's sung by someone from your geographical region, or with whom you have strong economic or political ties (the UK's habit of insulting and/or occupying all our neighbours inevitably works against us). Some people were arguing that this kind of blatant vote-rigging and bias would ultimately destroy the integrity and credibility of the contest. (At which the rest of us thought: the contest has integrity and credibility?!?)
Song-wise this year it was a bit of a mixed bag. Since the rules were changed to allow entrants to sing in any language they like, there's been a bit of a moral dilemma for most of the entrants - should they retain national pride and sing in their native tongue, even though its unintelligibility to most of the audience will inevitably cost them votes? Or should they surrender to Atlantic cultural imperialism and sing in English?
Well, sad to say this year most of the countries swallowed their pride and sang in English, after a fashion. A few clung on nobly to their own languages, among them - of course - the French, whose singer strongly resembled a cross between Tracy Emin and a bricklayer. A clever tactic adopted by several nations, including Poland, Portugal, Bosnia and Israel, was to sing half the song in their own language, breaking into English for those all-important choruses at the end. This seemed only reasonable as far as the Bosnian entry went, as it was a thinly disguised cover of Tom Jones' 'Sex Bomb' with new lyrics. A stroke of genius by the Belgians saw them short-circuiting this whole vexed question by singing in gibberish - yes, made-up words - accompanied on the bagpipes and accordion.
More traditional accompaniment was favoured by this year's celebrity contestants, Tatu, who were representing Russia. There's a long and honoured tradition in some countries of fielding a credible, well-known artist to sing the song. Here in the UK in the past we have, on occasion, deployed Cliff Richard, Katrina and the Waves, and - er - Sonia. Entering Tatu (if you'll pardon the expression) seemed like a shrewd move by the Russians, as their existing European fanbase was bound to be inclined to vote their way, despite the fact their song was rubbish. Unfortunately some diva-ish behaviour from the lesbians-in-training rather exhausted the goodwill of the locals and they were getting booed by the end of the evening.
Another fine Eurovision tradition is the 'bat's arse' entry, where one country enters a deliberately ridiculous song for reasons best known to itself. In the past we've seen the striking song 'Lazy Bums' from Israel, the demented Guildo Horn from Germany, and last year's transvestite air hostesses from - I think - Slovenia. This year the bearer of the torch was Austria's Alf Poier, who sang a charming song about rabbits and dromedaries. One year everyone will decide to enter a bat's arse song - that, my friends, will be Euro-geddon.
As people with long memories and empty social diaries will recall, last year I rather cynically observed that Latvia mainly won because Marie N engaged in a spot of inoffensive but attention-grabbing pseudo-striptease in the course of her act, and predicted this would be widely copied. Well, guess what: Turkey, Croatia, Israeli, and Romania all spent a hefty chunk of their costume budget on velcro, and the air was filled with flying chemises for much of the night.
After two hours of this sort of thing it was time to tally up the votes and see where the circus would be pitching up next May. The Awix scorecard, which operates on a system that incorporates such factors as lyrical flair, musical originality, and how nice the singer's hair looks, put Belgium top ahead of joint-second placers Turkey and the Netherlands, with Bosnia and the UK close behind.
As the early votes came in it was clear that a rich vein of lunacy had been uncovered in voters across the continent as the bizarre Austrian and Belgian entries scored heavily. As time went on, though, Alf Poier and his dromedaries fell away and it turned into a three-horse race between Belgium, Turkey, and Russia. In the closest finish for some years, Turkey eventually pipped it by a handful of points.
This victory really was testimony to the importance of dedication and pragmatism when it comes to a successful Euro-song bid. Clearly stung by their rotten showing last year, this time the Turks were not messing about. Performed by the ferociously toothy Sertab Erener, 'Every Way That I Can' was a vaguely Holly Valance-ish percussion-heavy stomper - sung, controversially, in English, to guarantee wide appeal and extra votes. Sertab was backed up by an eyecatching squad of formation belly-dancers - the cynic in me says this was to keep people's attention off the song - and she herself was equipped with a flyaway corset in order that she could deploy her own navel near the end of the song. They probably deserved to win on grounds of sheer determination.
And what of the UK? Well, ahem, wouldn't you know it but we came an extremely convincing last, with no points whatsoever. Let us be kind and put this down to a pan-continental backlash, following our recent legally-dubious military adventurism, rather than the fact that our act made the interesting choice of singing flat for most of their song. And if nothing else, it gives us a chance to be smug: most other countries would be looking at relegation following a disaster like that, but not us. No, 'cos we pay for the thing, and if you don't let us play we're going to take our ball away.
Ah, well, I suppose it's a stern message to us all about the importance of keeping in with our European neighbours if we want to prosper. At least the threatened Baltic stranglehold on the contest has been broken and we can look forward to sunny Ankara next year, while we plot the best way to get back into the contest. It's a pity the Cheeky Girls are Romanian, isn't it?
