Now that American Idol has fizzled out with a whimper — Hello! 2002 called! It wants its smash hit back! That and the cliche about things that are not people calling to ask for things back! — we can turn our undivided attentions to a real sensation: The 53rd Annual Eurovision Song Contest.
Like we have to tell you what we are talking about, but okay, we’ll humor the two of you who are under a rock: Countries in Europe vote a winner to face off with other national winners at a spring contest held in the capital city of the country that won the previous year. Got it? Here, the latest from our correspondent.
Since Serbia won last year, Belgrade (yay!) is hosting this year’s festivities. Eurovision is one of Europe’s most-watched annual broadcasts, a glittery, over-the-top, culturally unintelligible mish-mash of vaguely ethnic ditties and local musical styles that gives artists from countries tiny and massive alike a chance to show off to the entire continent.
This year’s contest features 43 entries from countries as far apart geographically as Azerbaijan and Iceland. At once, Eurovision is a sign of belonging to Europe, an opportunity to showcase local talent, a giant kitschfest, an unparalleled event on Europe’s annual gay calendar, and an opportunity to laugh at songs that either take themselves far too seriously or, very ironically of course, mock the entire phenomenon.
For me, what’s exciting about Eurovision is the absolute unknowability of what’s coming down the pike. Like the shirtless metal band from Finland that won on Tuesday night. Who could have predicted that?
Or Ireland’s unlucky Dustin the Turkey, a puppet singing a speedy trance jig that lyrically hangs on an apology to the world for Riverdance? Who could have dreamed Dustin up, and how on earth did he manage to win at the national level in the first place?
Of course, they say the same thing about England every year, which seems to mock the contest with the bands it sends out. (We are still trying to get last year’s miserable “Flying the Flag” ditty, sung by the inexplicable Scooch, out of our heads.)
In Belgrade, it is immediately clear that the Serbian investment runs a bit deeper. There’s a palpable excitement in the air. Hosting Eurovision is an opportunity for Serbia to demonstrate its European credentials, and, frankly, it couldn’t have come at a better time.
It has been three months after Kosovo’s declaration of independence and a few weeks since the country was offered a clear path to eventual EU accessionâevents that have summoned up very different domestic political motivations. And let’s not forget Serbia’s unusual recent history. The country, then the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia, was bombed by NATO in 1999.
There aren’t many lingering physical scars from the 1999 NATO bombing, and bombed out buildings are certainly not characteristic of the city’s landscape. Still, sitting as some do in the center of the city, they do jump out.
Tuesday’s Eurovision semi-final left us with ten songs destined for the final on Saturday night. A trove of traditional Eurovision tunes made it through. There was Finland’s metal mess, Greece’s bubbly confection (sung by Long Island-raised Kalomoira), Israel’s plaintive torch song, Norway’s Ace of Base sound-alike, Armenia’s ethnic dance pop, Azerbaijan’s falsetto-driven rock cocktail, Bosnia-Herzegovina’s utterly mysterious entry (whose stage act features backing singers pretending to knit and the use of a clothesline as prop), Poland’s gruesomely flashy ballad, Romania’s awfully plain ballad, and Russia’s Timbaland-assisted bit of R&B drama.
Notably, the Belgrade press poll, comprised of Eurovision press and fan club attendees, correctly predicted nine of the ten first semi-final songs to make it to the final.
Sweden’s Charlotte Perrelli is the fan favorite for the second semi-final tonight, with her unbelievably gay anthem “Hero.” Sweden’s Ms. Perrelli (who won Eurovision back in 1999 as Charlotte Nilsson) is a first-rate performer of the old school, with a real fondness for the wind machine and professional roots in Sweden’s superschmaltzy domestic “dansband” tradition.
In other words, bring it.
— Alex Robertson Textor
