It’s a far cry from those adverts for weak lemon drink featuring sweaty tennis players sat at the side of the centre court at Wimbledon mopping their brows. Now Robinsons have opted for a eye-catching and charming little piece for their new push featuring a bird returning to his pad from a busy day of … well, being a bird. Keep an eye out for the criminal cat on the TV news bulletin especially for birds. The avian take on the cuckoo clock is especially classy. Quality work indeed.
Update: It seems that the first posting had an embedded YouTube video which was subsequently removed by the user. Shame. It was a quality piece of work. Somebody must have complained. Boo. So, if this one gets removed and I haven’t picked it up, please be sure to let me know. Lots of fluff. Jon.
Chiara’s was one of the better performances in the semi-final but the song itself still didn’t leap out at me. I’ve not been terribly big on this from the beginning and I can’t see the final performance changing my mind particularly.
REHEARSAL NOTES
SECOND REHEARSAL
Lovely song although I’m beginning to feel a little bit uneasy about those octave leaps and the sometimes strained voice the lovely Chiara suffers from. I know she’s mic-ed up so in some senses it shouldn’t make much difference, but it feels pinched from time to time and makes me wriggle uncomfortably. She’s right to be concerned about the “fog” in her second rehearsal. Not because it goes all over the place but fundamentally because it ain’t necessary. It would be overkill to have it (and actually, it does make me think of the steam which ascends from excretement and I really don’t want to be thinking about that during your performance love). So Chiara, make sure you pull it from the dress rehearsal and then the semi, only don’t be too diva-rish about it when you do communicate your wishes to your producer. No Eurovision fan likes a diva. Some of us didn’t like Dana International you know.
FIRST REHEARSAL
Dear God. Doesn’t the stage look fantastic when you haven’t got the stroke inducing graphics flying around on the screens behind it. That’s what we want more of Malta. Simplicity. And even though I didn’t really rate the song and I know you lot really want to win maybe letting on to the other countries that a relatively blank canvas carries more weight with TV viewers would be shooting yourselves in the foot. It’s a nice working of the song too. Do be sure to lose the architecture projections. They’re not really working. Chiara has got trouble with the top notes however. Make sure she gets to bed early between now and the semi.
SONG REVIEW
It’s semi-final night and you’re finding yourself flagging. It’s work tomorrow (or school) and enthusiasm is waning. Ahead of you stretches responsibility. There’s Malta’s song to hear and then after that, Bosnia and Herzegovina. The initial thrilling prospect of having almost a week of Eurovision related activity before the main event has worn of. Tiredness has set. Despair quickly follows.
This is a common experience. It’s the dead time in the running order. Those last two songs have to do much to remind the viewer why he or she is watching. We’re there to vote, after all, and before we can vote responsibly we need to have done our research.
Chiara, Malta’s singer this year, will perform “What if we?” She has an advantage over the final act from Bosnia & Herzegovina in that she has a following from that hardcore unit of fans referred to as “The Community”. Us Euro-fans love a fighter. We love someone who has remained true to the cause, who dusts herself down after defeat and comes back to fight another day. In our heart of hearts we’d applaud like mad things if two times previous Eurovision participant Chiara (1998 and 2005) got to snatch that Eurovision crown and take it back to Malta.
She’ll definitely go through to the final and will almost certainly hear a massive cheer when she sets foot on stage if she does. But does the song truly stir the heart like it promises to do in the opening verse? Does it stir the heart enough to scribble down the phone number and commit the vote with blind passion in the semi-final and then the final? I fear not.
So, come back another year Chiara. We’ll still cheer you.
Portugal’s song did everything I thought it might during the semi-final, providing yet another antidote to the cliches cavorting around the stage at other points during the evening. Think warm summer evenings with a large glass of red wine, sat in a bar in the centre of an old village in the middle of the Portuguese countryside. Somewhere in the background Daniela sings this song. (And yes, I realise what I’ve just done. I’ve provided a cliche to sell a song which I had begun by saying provided an antidote to all the other cliches in the contest. Eurovision is complicated. Get over it.)
REHEARSAL NOTES
SECOND REHEARSAL
Not only is Daniela singing an adorably refreshing song for Portugal, but it continues to retain its freshness during her second rehearsal and she seems equally absorbing when interviewed too. She also seems mightily proud of her Vivienne Westwood shoes too. This obviously deserves to go through to the final and in a post-Norwegian / Greece PR overload moment, I’m inclined to say I wouldn’t mind seeing Portugal win with this just to annoy everyone else across Europe. The flower in her hair might be traditional but it does need to go however.
FIRST REHEARSAL
The girl has a gorgeous smile and is devoid of the gaunt TV look so many other seasoned Eurovision contestants have this year. The set is elegantly simple and refreshing as a result. It’s a cosy sounding song with an engaging lilt and she has an adorable voice. Just make sure you don’t have her dressed in traditional costume (keep her away from the hair braids and flowers and such) and this stands a good chance of getting through. It makes me think of the PS3 game Little Big Planet – and maybe that’s the point.
SONG REVIEW
Isn’t she a little smasher? For me, Portugal’s Daniela and lead from band Flor-de-Lis meets the required standard for this crusty old Eurovision fan. She can sing, she can communicate and she can enthuse an audience with an infectious personality. There are no over the top dramatics on stage, just a simple performance from an engaging performer to an enthusiastic crowd. Nice.
Flor-de-Lis’ song – entitled “All the streets of love” – ambles along quite nicely and raises a smile although it’s not necessarily memorable. Perhaps it wasn’t intended that way. It’s a song drawing on traditional styles, rather than a means to a Eurovision end in itself.
Maybe they didn’t want to win, just put in something heartfelt. In that respect that makes me love the Portuguese for their integrity and pick up the phone and vote for the country in the first semi-final. I’ll be the first to admit that such an assessment is based on low levels of research and is incredibly patronising.
The key question however is how it will translate to the massive stadium in Moscow. I fear it may just feel a little bit lost.
Not only have they remained stubbornly attached to that dubiously thought out medieval theme but Krassmir now appears in a cloak. It makes him look like he’s doing a school play. He’s also not coming across as especially excited to be there. Obviously he’s just finished rehearsing so we shouldn’t be too hard on the poor flower. Even so luv, if you want us to vote for you you’re going to have to look a little more convincing than you did in this interview.
FIRST REHEARSAL
SONG REVIEW
My mother always used to say “Honesty is the best policy, my boy.” Thus with this advice bouncing around in my head, I reassure myself before I committing my thoughts about Bulgaria’s Eurovision entry this year.
One question is uppermost in my mind as I watch Krassimir Avramov sing “Illusion” sat Bulgaria’s national selection programme. What on earth is going on on stage?
I see a wannabee Knight of the Round Table plucking random notes out of the air and sliding up and down and all around them to his heart’s content. He’s accompanied on stage by two larger ladies dressed in black swaying aimlessly from side to side. Then there’s this other lady on the other side of the stage who wanders in and out as and when the mood takes her.
Upstaging the lot are the two shabbily dressed circus acts behind them who, at one stage, must have seen a string of TV producers stand in front of them, shake their heads and say “You’re presenting a risk assessment nightmare for me. The answer is no.” The point where the guy picks up the other stilt walker and swings her around in front of him, isn’t exactly the first shameless attempt to draw attention from what should be the main focus of the performance – the singer – but it demonstrates the most spectacular failure in doing what it set out to achieve.
What’s reasonably very interesting is how the TV set for Bulgaria’s national selection (not to mention the predictable camera angles which must now surely have their own dedicated adjective – The X-Factor angle) looks almost the same as nearly every other Eurovision set. That might sound one geeky observation too far for most, but it does at least indicate how Bulgaria’s 3 minutes may look on the Moscow stage. It will have to through a massive development phase before the first semi-final. It has to.
For all the negativity here, there’s something reassuringly Eurovision about this which does make it endearing in a slightly patronising way. Disco club beats are tired sounding, so too the ethnic sound, but when something is eye catching and seemingly incomprehensible that’s when you know the old Eurovision style is alive and well.
In pursuit of securing some votes for the UK I attempted to persuade a Finnish work colleague to persuade her family and friends in Finland to vote for us. I’m not entirely convinced this worked as I had minutes before taken her to task for the quality of the song Finland put forward to represent the country. Not surprisingly she held up her hands defensively saying “It was nothing to do with me, I was here at work in London when that decision was made.” She declined to comment whether or not her family and friends would vote for the UK.
That aside, this will almost certainly be the lowest point of the Final for me – I didn’t enjoy it in the semi.
REHEARSAL NOTES
Flame-throwing circus performers stripped to the waist, a tired dance-club sound and an increasing desire to see the performance come to an end almost as soon as the song begins. The rehearsal footage identifies the song’s major weakness: it only comes alive with jaunty camera angels and fast cutting between shots. Without the all-important TV view this song feels lost.
SONG REVIEW
I loathed Lordi and their song Hard Rock Hallelujah – Finland’s moment of crowning Eurovision glory in 2006. I just didn’t like the masks. I found myself screaming at the television screen, “If you’re so bloody good and enthusiastically received, leave your costumes backstage and come on as yourselves. Don’t be shy.”
Now I watch Waldo’s People sing “Lose Control” for Finland this year, I find myself warming to Finland’s 2006 winning song from Lordi in a shameless retro fashion. Lordi’s effort was (even though it irritated the hell out of me at the time) far more convincing. Finland’s song this year however isn’t.
I’ve heard this beat and this style before and I don’t want to hear it again. The pyrotechnics can go – I’m always a little dubious when we see performance art on stage – and there is a certain amount of screaming in the vocals which may need to be ironed out before their big moment. Even if they do this, I fear I will be sniggering like a schoolboy when we get to the line “Is this my reality?”
Surprisingly, this song is beginning to grow on me. The rehearsal footage featuring the lead from The Balkan Girl looks good and she can clearly reliably deliver the song despite leaping around all over the place. And she definitely has to leap around quite a bit. A competent song of an equally competent song which, if it gets through to the final, will do OK but ultimately will be forgotten when the likes of Norway and Greece hit the stage (assuming of course they get through too).
SONG REVIEW
The Balkan Girls are quite possibly the only act in this year’s line up of semi-final acts who I would actively not like to see get through to the final.
Such a vile statement at the beginning of a blog post may well be interpreted by some outside of the UK (and ultimately those I as a British resident be angling to keep sweet in the run up to the big night) as a nasty if predictable case of xenophobia. It’s not. I’ve never been to Romania but the pictures I’ve seen of the country make it look very pretty.
There will be some members of the audience who will no doubt find Romania’s Balkan Girls very pretty. They are very leggy after all, something we’re reminded of by the various acrobatics carried out by the backing dance team. And there’s the first problem. The dancers seem like a bit of an afterthought, asked to be on stage to fill in a gaping hole but now they’re there they could probably tone it down a little bit.
The occasional forays into glamour model poses are slightly uncomfortable (possibly because I always assume the only people who engage with Eurovision are either gay men or thirty-something single women) and the ripping off of skirts is a bit of a tired shortcut.
And the payoff? Well, the song isn’t bad, but having written this drivel for the past ten minutes, I can’t say I recall anything of the melody. Sorry Romania.
Let’s cut to the chase. This song won’t win. Sorry FYR Macedonia, but it won’t.
However, despite the poor quality of the video and the almost laughable (whilst largely successful) attempt to turn the lead singer into a Jon Bon Jovi clone, this song isn’t really all that bad. If Belarus’ song is the kind of cock-rock I can’t stand, then FYR Macedonia’s effort is the kind of entry level rock with a hint of Bruce Springsteen I’m prepared to accept without getting all childhishly grumpy about it all.
FYR Macedonia’s song “Nesto Sto Kje Ostane” is performed by Next Time. And it will be next time too. Well, possibly.
A convincing plausible song delivered by a lovely looking lady with a fantastic voice. This song eclipsed Sweden’s Malena in the first semi-final as the best song of that particular evening. It’s a shame about the dress although in the final camera angles you don’t get to see too much of it. Could turn out to be a good performer in the leaderboard without people even realising it.
REHEARSAL NOTES
SECOND REHEARSAL
There’s a sure fire way to put me off a song I formerly quite liked. Stick the singer in a frilly dress. It ain’t working. Which is a shame because the song itself is really quite nice and she can definitely deliver it.
SONG REVIEW
There’s one thing worse for a smug Eurovision fan than a poorly crafted song for the annual competition: a song which is actually quite good sung by a singer who looks good. The latter makes writing easier, the former a whole lot more difficult.
So it is with Iceland 2009 song “Is it True?” sung by Yohanna. A simple and effective song with just the right amount of melancholy without the whole thing tipping into a syrupy mess. Oh .. and she’s naturally gorgeous too. OK, so she’s got a bit of make up on in the video but if you were a postman knocking on her door at stupid o clock in the morning with a parcel to sign for, you just know she’d look a million dollars woken up with a start.
With all the Eurovision boxes ticked on the more discerning Eurovision fan’s checklist you’d think the only thing left to say would be “Well done her.” Not quite. The only question is, come the first semi-final will the qualities of the song shine brightly enough to secure Iceland a place in the final ahead of the acts with more notoriety ? Don’t spend all night worrying about it, but do give it some thought if you are able to vote.
I didn’t go for this in any way and yet everyone seems to be talking about it.
REHEARSAL NOTES
What’s interesting is that I didn’t even watch their rehearsal video because I was so not taken by the song.
There was a point in the UK’s shameful past when we put forward a young and slender young lady called Javine to sing a dubiously titled song “Touch My Fire“. I’m sure I don’t recall then nor understand now what that “fire” she was referring to. But I do certainly recall feeling desperately underwhelmed by the song and a little amazed at how her perfectly formed right breast had popped out of her skimpy outfit during the UK selection show.
I only mention this because Turkey’s song this year Crazy for You sung by Hadise bears more than a striking resemblance to Javine’s poorly effort from 2005.
So, is Turkey imitating us from 2005 (and if so, in God’s name WHY?) or is it imitating itself. And if it’s the latter, didn’t anyone tell Eurovision people in Turkey that self-obsession isn’t generally becoming? I should know. I’m an expert where that’s concerned.
Switzerland’s last appearance in the Eurovision final was back in 2005 after impressing the voting public across Europe with their cock-rock number self-consciously named “Cool Vibes” and sung by a bunch of largely female Elvis wannabees. Since then, the country has struggled to make a good impression.
In 2006, a six-man/woman group graced the stage with three minutes of saccharin, sanctimonious schlock promising “We can make this a world for everyone”. The rest of Europe weren’t quite so sure and, as a result of the country’s sixteenth place in the leaderboard that year, spent following Eurovisions competing for a place in the final.
So surely things would be different for 2008? The intention was there and no doubt, the hope too. But the musical identity crisis present in the ironically named “Wasn’t it wonderful?” was all too evident. This too failed to get through to the final.
This year Switzerland appears to be keen to demonstrate lessons learnt and offers up Lovebugs to represent the country with a song from their latest album The Highest Heights.
It’s credible, plausible and has a familiar instrumental sound … but the crucial thing about this is that I don’t like U2. So basically, I don’t like it.
Susanna is lovely – just look at those smashing teeth she’s got there. What’s really come as a massive surprise is how jettisoning her guitar and that god awful glove has transformed it from something irritating to something just about passable. Obviously I’m not that self-absorbed, but maybe somebody’s reading this blog after all. Maybe she’ll scrape through to the final.
First Rehearsal
There’s little difference in the stage performance compared to the video below. I still see a single leather glove, only now I also observe a tired look back display a, some wide belts from the 80s and some illuminated numbers on guitar straps Sorry Mr Siegel, I should be more loyal, but this one ain’t for me.
SONG REVIEW
OK. So the only thing I can focus on in this particular song is the glove Susanna Georgi is wearing to strum her not-plugged-in guitar.
Obviously, she’s not the first person to don a single glove and she won’t be the last to attempt a mild early Madonna look. But the thing is it just looks like a bit of a cliche luv.
It does little for me. The song trips along, doesn’t build, doesn’t deliver and leaves me feeling like I need a cup of tea or a glass of wine or possibly a bottle.
Have fun in Moscow Susanna. Safe journey. I wouldn’t want you to have a miserable time out there. But really. I think you’ll be coming home early.
The odd staging makes sense now I’ve seen it on the TV screen. But regardless of how it looks on stage this is still a great song. The two of them can really belt and most interestingly it did rather feel as though they were the only performers who had succeeded in communicating with the audience sat seemingly miles away from the stage. Definitely one to watch and if you do, be sure to tap your foot along to it too.
REHEARSAL NOTES
SECOND REHEARSAL
Just so I’m being completely above board here, you need to know I’m reviewing this second rehearsal of Armenia’s song directly after Norway’s bubblegum firework from Alexander Rybak. I’ve grown to dislike Norway’s in the space of 24 hours (because I’m a miserable bitter arsehole whose happy to admit it a the risk of annoying a nation or at the very least going against the tide of opinion).
It might be this which contributes to a palpable sense of relief when I hear sounds which are by now inextricably linked with Armenia.
This song improves with every listen and the reasonably simple yet sincere presentation makes the two plucky girls real stars. The song in itself is a strong one, starting from a seemingly unusual beginnign with an infectious rhythm track which builds in intensity to quite possibly the most effortlessly executed of key changes in the entire contest. Both ladies ever reliable voices are impressive and a welcome relief after what feels like a marathon week spent listening to bubblegum pop. You’d think it would be the kind of quirky pop song which sold itself on the back of a studio production and yet their abilities and a reasonably simple stage presence proves it transfers well to stage.
The only slight criticism is down to the introduction of the lasers by the dancers but frankly it’s such a minor point I’m liable to spend the rest of the evening kicking myself for being such a miserable bastard as to even mention it.
FIRST REHEARSAL
Every year I find myself loving something in the early stages (ie when we see the song from the selection show) and then going through a moment of intense disappointment when it transfers to the main event. So it is with Armenia’s classy song combining a range of appealing styles which in the selection show (see below) looked simple, plausible and engaging. Now the dancers are at the forefront. Now there’s additional staging. Now there are arms waving all fver the place and now I’m beginning to worry.
SONG REVIEW
Ticking the Eurovision boxes marked “ethnic” and “slightly odd” sounding is Inga & Anush delivering Armenia’s little contribution entitled “Jan Jan”.
Maybe it’s the hint of the Eurythmics in the backing track or the shameless 80s beat which makes me feel included in this particular entry. Yeah, sure there are moments of absolutely bizareness but if you’re looking for a spot of boldness exemplified in the most unusual combination of sounds and styles look no further than Armenia this year.
Definitely one to watch on Tuesday 12 May. And frankly, if it doesn’t get through to the final on Saturday 16 then it’s time to amending those all important Eurovision rules or (alternatively) for me to find another obsession.
Oh dear God. It’s cock-rock sung by a man with a mop on his head, a dodgy looking jacket delivering a fairly credible impersonation of last year’s winner (discount the colour of both parties’ hair) and supposedly your-average-gay-man’s-dream Dima Bilan. There’s more than a hint of overblown cock-rock about this little number.
Obviously I realise I am being more than a little dismissive of Belarus’ effort and that it could well be the case that there are a great many bloggers in Belarus who feel the same way about the UK’s song.
Still, I must remain true to my core Eurovision values and ensure I make an almost immediate judgement. As a relative sensitive little flower brought up on a diet of Rodgers and Hammerstein musicals, cock-rock isn’t for me. Thus, neither is Petr, his song or Belarus this year or next.
Sorry Petr. Better luck next time. And be sure to get those awful cuffs sorted out.
What’s clear about a first listen to the Czech Republic is that group Gipsy.cz are meeting the brief of “we need something eclectic” in the Eurovision to prove it’s worth. The kind of song to satisfy those oh so critical hard-core Eurovision fans who still naively believe that the annual song fest really can find new musical talent.
Gipsy.cz have a pedigree, of that there is no mistaking. First they’ve already performed at Glastonbury (I know that – they must be reasonably highly thought of to go there).
Not only that, according to the BBC Eurovision website (a reasonably reliable source I would suggest) …
“Gipsy.cz has significantly helped the mutual understanding and better communication between minorities and “mainstream society” in the Czech Republic. In 2007, Radoslav Banga became the Czech national ambassador for the European Year of Equal Opportunities for All.”
As highly regarded as Gipsy.cz obviously are there is one problem I have with their song “Come on Gipsies”. I can’t bear listening to it.
Gracious me, she’s not terribly keen being interviewed after her rehearsal is she? She’s trotting out all those tired old responses about her song not realising she’s casting an image of her, her song and her chances. I see little enthusiasm (or the results of an disatisfying rehearsal / lots of stress / feelings of antagonism at the interviewer). I may well have lost interest in this although like that man with the lanyard says, it will be an OK opener to the semi. Chin-up love. It will be OK – just get those dodgy notes sorted and you’ll be home in a few days.Make sure your dancer wears the white shirt – the fitted black one looks a little tacky.
First Rehearsal
Safe, plausible and convincing.
SONG REVIEW
Here’s a song you need to be terribly, terribly careful with.
Here’s how it works. You listen to it once and you roll your eyes at the shameless use of ripped torsos and short shorts. They’re only there for the target audience. It’s shameless. You might almost say those Montenegrans are exploitating the oh so precious “community”.
You’re about to click on the button marked “stop this arrant nonsense immediately” if only you could find the damn thing when you’re swept into the chorus. You tut at your own incompetence of clicking away from another time-wasting effort around about the time the high tempo disco beat kicks in. You snigger meanly when singer Andrew Demirovic sings the line “Just Get Out of My Life” and think to yourself how predictably dull the whole thing is, when something happens.
Without even realising it, you’re actually quite liking it. Suddenly the sun is shining. There’s a fresh whiff of spring on the air. Summer awaits. There’s the very real possibility that a Eurovision win for Montenegro might just make the world a better place. Then the song is over and you’re left wondering and subsequently remembering exactly what the melody in the chorus was. Swiftly after that a palpable sense of shame descends.
You now feel dirty and want to move away from your computer keyboard. You don’t of course. You end up refreshing the page and listening to the damn thing again. Montenegro’s song is a danger. A very serious danger. And it could secure a great many votes. They’d better get rid of the short shorts, however. Eurovision is good old fashioned family entertainment don’t you know.
It seems Belgian Patrick Ouchene is feeling a little sick – always a tried and tested way of preparing your country for a potential failure – so the Belgian delegation has rolled out its gimmick for the world to see: The Cat. That animated treasure is cute it has to be said. Being a crusty old Eurovision fan I should technically be averse to such shameless techniques to liven up the stage. The thing is however is that the whole package is convincing. It looks good on screen even if the song now is pressing the wrong buttons for me.
The set looks suitably Las Vegas to accompany this shameless Elvis imitator . It’s got a pleasant little reminder of Making Your Mind Up, the stage presence is suitably low key and straight forward and it’s a perky little song to boot. Patrick Ouchene may not necessarily be terribly easy on the eye, but it has definitely secured its place in the final. Quite how the great unwashed will react to the number the first time they hear it remains to be seen. Quite what the expert jury of industry experts will judge it as is unclear. At 12,500 views at the time of writing however, this one is a song everyone appears to be keeping an eye on early on in rehearsals.
SONG REVIEW
In a desperate bid to sound like I know what I’m talking about, Belgium’s entry maybe one to watch. Cast aside any notion that Patrick Ouchene’s song Copycat has a passing resemblance to Dire Straits hits of the late 80s. It’s that brass line which inserts itself into your brain every now and again and that shuffle/rock rhythm which makes you start tapping your feet and swinging along to the beat.
Whilst Patrick does display evidence (to me at least) that in an entirely different setting he may be a man who enjoys dragging up, it is no doubt the cartoon character – the Copycat if you will – which makes all but the most cynical of Eurovision fans conclude this really is quite a perky song. Don’t think for a moment there won’t be a chance to include that animation on Tuesday 12 May. There are big screens on stage in Moscow (I should imagine) and they’ll be desperate to fill them with something interesting to look at.
Israel’s pair turned a surprisingly engaging performance – quite possibly because like Lithuania’s soul effort “There Must Be Another Way” was a refreshing alternative from all the other mediocre pap we’d heard during the first semi-final. Despite my earlier protestations about this song being bland, I’m now thinking it’s got quite a bit of integrity to it. Not entirely sure why they insist of playing the bongos for a brief moment during the song. I don’t get that at all.
REHEARSAL NOTES
SECOND REHEARSAL
It’s sitting easier in my mind but it still fails to entertain me. The sequence where they stand and the back and drum seems a little odd. Sounds better though even if by now all objectivity has been lost having listened to it so many times. It just feels like one of those crappy fairground rides for the kids where the parents have to stand at the side watching their nippers pass by excitedly. It begins and it ends and that’s all.
FIRST REHEARSAL
Israel’s worthy song does as I expected it would and fails to sparkle on the Eurovision stage quite possibly because there’s little material there to exploit in terms of a stage presence. The message maybe strong and the call to action admirable, but this will I’m afraid sink without a trace. By far the trickiest moment will be the opening exposed harmonic introduction between the two singers. The slightest hint of nerves and you’ll hear it in the opening fifteen seconds of the song.
SONG REVIEW
It may be a worthy cause, a global consideration and ever so slightly political (note the small ‘p’ please people) but Israel’s passionate plea “There Must Be Another Way” sung by Noa & Mira Awad has one fundamental flaw: it’s a bland song.
Just as I sit here consuming nothing more than a video version of the song on YouTube with little or no desire to run off to the BBC website and read the long biographies of the singers, so too viewers on Tuesday 12 May will sit and hear No and Mira sing their song for the first time and (I would wager) cross their names off the list.
Sorry ladies. It’s just not my bag, regardless of what you’re singing about.
My notes from the first semi-final clearly state that both me and significant other regarded Malena’s efforts for Sweden as very good. We might even have gone as far as to say that we had by that point (five songs in) heard the best song by far. The song – La Voix – is still filler for me. But Malena can belt and its a perfectly agreeable thing to listen to.
REHEARSAL NOTES
Second Rehearsal
Not for the first time I find myself conflicted watching Malena’s interview and the snippets of her song. She’s in no way “white trash” carrying herself off in an interview situation effortlessly. She’s been to Vienna to rehearse Purcell’s Dido and Aeneas, thus she’s want to emphasise her musical integrity. Then when I see her back on stage with her relatively safe moves singing Classic FM-esque track I can’t help thinking one thing. This is a shameless example of cross-genre production. “Let’s go for a classy act with someone who’s groovy enough to straddle both the serious and the kitsch. It will make her a superstar! And when she becomes that superstar she’ll have her own classy backing track too.”
Sorry Malena. You’re no longer on that Eurovision Gravy Train. However, you do look good giving an interview and you’re pretty good at self-deprecation too.
First Rehearsal
Sweden’s rousing anthemic number sits well in the apparently vast interior of Moscow’s Olympic Arena and the appearance of the set and the low-key choreography from the backing singers definitely makes this a song worth watching. The melodic range still makes for a dissatisfying verse, but it’s secured it’s place in the final without doubt.
SONG REVIEW
There’s something about the chord progressions in the opening gambit of this little number which fill me with fear and dread. It’s like those opening few bars promise something truly moving and awe inspiring. Then the club beat kicks in and then my suspicions are confirmed. This song ticks every Eurovision box it’s not true. I can see oceans of crazy fans leaping up and down to the beat as though their lives depended on it. A small army of dancers does little to lessen my irritability over this one.
In her defence however, singer Malena Ernman does have quite a melodic range to cover in her song La Voix (as demonstrated in the last chorus and final syrupy chords). Let’s just hope she delivers those top notes on Tuesday 12 May. I’ll have my HB pencil sharpened especially.
If there is a political message in Bosnia & Herzegovina’s song (and to be honest I’ve had to ask a friend because I can’t be bothered to go and read the lyrics right now) it was lost on me during the semi-final performance of this song largely because the presentation of it had me climbing the walls with fury. There’s a great deal of self-conscious and ever so slightly overly intense staring into the middle distance. Fundamentally however, it’s the costumes which spectacularly direct attention away from what sounds like a reasonable song towards a place roped off and signposted “Period Drama”. The chords right at the end are nice, however.
The semi-final or qualifier or whatever you want to refer to it as looks set to close in a spectacularly understated and ever so slightly confusing way with Bosnia & Herzegovina’s 2009 entry “Bistra Voda” performed by rock group Regina.
Fair play, it has a simple anthemic melody but that military rhythm fails to kick start my senses. Having heard it once I can’t say I’m particularly inclined to click on the play button and hear it again. Mind you, I’m sure they’re very nice gentlemen and will – given that I am totally out of step with the Eurovision cognascenti and at the time of writing I notice their YouTube version has reached a collosal 163,000 views – do very well in the first semi-final on Tuesday 16 May.
I’m not normally tempted to sit through two hours of relentless back-slapping in the hope I might have something to write about, but the 2009 Bafta awards seemed like the perfect stuff to watch on a Sunday evening.
From a personal perspective, I found some of the decisions a little surprising largely because a lot of the stuff which did get an award was either something I didn’t agree with or hadn’t watched. Had it not have been for Dawn French and Jennifer Saunders getting the Fellowship award I may well have ended the broadcast feeling like I was owed two hours of my life by BAFTA and that I was seriously out of touch with the rest of society. Now I come to think of it I suspect both things still apply this morning.
Graham Norton hosted the event staged at the atmosphere-less Royal Festival Hall. Don’t get me wrong, the Festival Hall is a gorgeous venue. It’s just not made for TV.
Drama – Wallander (BBC)
Factual – Amazon (BBC)
Entertainment – X-Factor (ITV)
Sport – F1 (ITV)
Continuing Drama – The Bill (ITV)
News – Chinese Earthquake (ITV)
Entertainment Performance – Harry Hill (ITV)
Single Drama – White Girl (BBC)
Comedy Programme – Harry and Paul (BBC) – Geoffrey Perkins
Specialist Factual – Life In Cold Blood (BBC)
Feature – The Choir: Boy’s Don’t Sing (BBC)
Situation Comedy – The IT Crowd (Channel 4)
Best Drama Serial – Criminal Justice (BBC)
Special Award – Jane Tranter, Controller of Drama, BBC (BBC)
Single Documentary – Chosen (Channel 4)
Philips Audience Award – Skins (Channel 4) – a little taken aback
Comedy Performance – David Mitchell (Peep Show, Channel 4)
Actress – Anna somebody (Channel 4)
Actor – Stephen Dillane (Shooting Thomas Hurndall)
Fellowship – Dawn French & Jennifer Saunders
Current Affairs – Saving Africa’s Witch Children (Dispatches, Channel 4)
Interactivity – Embarassing Bodies Online (Channel 4)
International – Mad Men (BBC Four)
News that Bea Arthur has died hasn’t gone down very well in this particular gay household. She was after all a bit of a legend, quite possibly one of those icons highly thought of but not often thought about and yet still sadly missed when her departure was announced a few hours ago.
There’s plenty written already about what the Golden Girls star achieved during her acting career. In fact, most of the online news stories share similar key facts. It’s almost like they’re all writing from the same press release. I hope to God that one of the journalists who wrote up the stories actually remembers the woman performing or watching The Golden Girls when it first went out. The idea that some whippersnapper who has no appreciation of Arthur’s identity is writing up the story fills me with fear and dread.
I reached for my laptop as soon as I heard and searched for the opening credits of The Golden Girls. One last chance to listen to Andrew Gold’s hauntingly melancholic melody. “Thank You For Being A Friend” seemed self-indulgently appropriate in light of the death of such a star.
What do I find? YouTube returns various results featuring the opening credits of the show which most know Bea Arthur from. This is the cut down version however. It lasts only 42 seconds.
The full version – the full song recorded by Andrew Gold – has been pulled from the YouTube network because publishers WMG have requested it.
Leaves a bit of a sour taste in the mouth for those of us who look for any excuse to shed a big gay man’s tear.
It’s not the most appealing exterior, is it? Greenwich’s other Mexican restaurant The High Chaparral does suffer from an image problem in that respect (its the narrow doorway next to the Desperados bar with a stairway leading up to the first floor) and yet word of mouth has been considerably more useful in securing it’s place in Greenwich’s list of eateries. We always go there and we’re rarely disappointed.
It’s not the kind of place you’ll see written about in magazines. In fact, I’d worry if I found it reviewed by the likes of Matthew Norman. He’d be bound to rip it to shreds. He can be so very scathing.
I’m reckoning the first floor restaurant has gone through a management change. If not then there’s been a sudden change of heart over the layout.
Gone are all but one of the cosy cocoons situated at the top of ladders for those of us late to the restaurant or in need of an intimate meal. Instead the restaurant has now been totally opened up, all of it’s tables on one level providing a far more flexible eating area. At first it felt as though the place had lost it’s charm, but the change may well have seemed considerably more stark because we were there in the light of early evening in late spring. The opening out of the restaurant area proved itself however when a large group of 16 turned up and were instantly accommodated after judicious rearrangement of the tables. Far from interrupting the atmosphere, the large group contributed to it.
The margheritas are overly sweet but the food reliable. The refried beans are probably best avoided – they were a disappointment – but the sizzling chicken satisfying. Staff are in no way authentic but reassuringly attentive nonetheless.
They’re also keen to ensure your stay is a happy one: when I inadvertently knocked over my glass of wine with my elbow, they were quick and happy to replenish me with another. I didn’t ask and they didn’t know I was intending to blog about our visit either.
Good reliable food and good service too. Mexican food is always expensive, but if you pass on the margherita (the only decent margheritas are the ones made by next door neighbour’s ex-boyfriend, believe me) then the total cost is comparable to any tired pizzeria.
Word to the wise, however. Don’t go there if you’re intending to order pasta. If you do, you may run the risk of being scorned at by a couple of cynical old queens sat in the corner, in the same way me and the significant other passed judgement on one lady’s order during our visit.
Peter Andre and Katie Price joined Jimmy Carr on the sofa for an edition of the Graham Norton Show illustrating how reality television needn’t be a car crash.
Andre and Price (aka Jordan) are the epitome of celebrity. OK, so one time Aussie hunk may have have a pop hit with his single Mysterious Girl and yes, he may possibly have had a good body (and who knows maybe he still does now). But what exactly does he do now? And does he deserve his media appearances ? What exactly is the man famous for now other than being married to Katie Price?
Andre’s wife Price may have justifiably established her presence with a large bosom and a jaw-dropping nerve to try anything once (just take a trip down memory lane and observe her appearance on the UK selection programme for Eurovision in 2005) but what exactly has she done recently to warrant an appearance? I can’t remember and I can’t be arsed to look at Wikipedia either. Go do your own research.
What they have is a discernible on-screen chemistry, one which makes their off-screen implicit and undeniable. Having met on ITV’s I’m a Celebrity Get Me Out of Here, the pair have remained together for six years. That’s some feat for a couple most dismissed as getting together for the reality tv cameras.
In the episode, keep an eye out for an interesting series of exchanges between the couple and Jimmy Carr. First Katie is in total control over her husband almost belittling him, then the next moment Carr is cracking a crude joke which seemingly only Andre gets. Price has all the visible signs of someone laughing whilst not quite understanding why.
If you’re looking for a shining example of a genuinely happy married celebrity couple then look no further than Mr Andre and Ms Price as seen on Graham Norton’s Show. Despite both their shiny faces, they’re pretty real too.
I can hear my harshest critic as he casts his eye over this blog.
“Jesus. Yet another platform for that Jacob bloke to get his face on. How very tiresome.”
I agree. At the same as the new service Bambuser (live streaming from mobile phone to internet) excites me, it does make me think twice about being carefully just what I do on it. Over exposure is a bad thing. People do very quickly grow tired.
Still, it’s a wonderful thing. At least it seems that way. With my Nokia N95 installed with a special downloadable application, a login to the Bambuser website and either a wireless connection or 3G connection to the internet I could (if I subsequently found sufficiently interesting to talk about) broadcast something live to the internet. The resulting clip is encoded by Bambuser’s infrastructure and subsequently offered on my own profile as an archive clip.
It’s like shooting video and uploading it to YouTube without having to upload it to YouTube. It’s using my mobile phone as nothing more than a camera and storing the results on a server on the internet. It’s cloud computing (sort of) although my phone does store a copy of the video movie at the same too. God only knows how it does that.
By far the best execution of live broadcasting can be achieved by keeping the camera device still, setting the audio quality to high and ensuring you’re utilising a wireless connection although even in my test I did notice that the further I moved away from the wireless router, the jumpier the resulting video became (inevitably). Mind you, the outdoors stuff over 3G was reasonably OK (in my humble opinion). What would make things better is if I had a Mac, no doubt. A Mac with a webcam embedded.
The most exciting thing about Bambuser is its relative ease of use and the fact that it delivers on what it promises. It’s also available for a variety of different platforms.
X-Files star Gillian Anderson and irritatingly young looking Chris Addison joined a soberly dressed Graham Norton in a welcome return of a show which has now successfully secured its place as a Thursday night treat.
Sinead O’Connor took us down (a slightly distressing) memory lane with a live performance of Nothing Compares To You , sparking a debate on performance techniques employed by a variety of former popstars. Lovely to see a special appearance from a mini-Graham (pictured).
Special mention must surely be given to the apparently necessary Japanese translator who sat on the front of the audience. She look lovely.
If you’re inside the UK you can watch it again here. If you’re outside the UK, I’m sorry.