EUROMOMENTS

So, all of a sudden we find ourselves in that funny "no-man's-land" between the National selections and the contest where you might think there's no need for a blog. But that would be sad for Carlytime, so I'll soldier on whether you like it or not. During this phase of Euroseason there's traditionally a lot of attention given to discussions of the different countries' relative chances, the running order, placing bets etc. I don't think I can tackle (or you can bear to read) an analysis of potential qualifiers/winners/top 5s etc. Instead, I'm going to offer a few snapshots of opinion now and then, where I say a little something about which songs I'm enjoying, which make my teeth itch and how I think things might pan out for both categories of song in May. Volume 1 - Female soloists: Latin vs. Lordi? HOT: It could just be my hormones this week, but I'm thoroughly enjoying the angst-rock offerings in this year's line-up. Finland's Han

“There are not words to speak of There are not words to say There are not songs to sing on News days like today There’s only time to carry These darkest doubts away There’s only hope to cling to On days like today Should hang our heads in shame What we’ve done in (Carola's) name Should hang our heads in shame Only ourselves to blame” I am only just now coming round from my weekend rage. I hadn’t been that angry since the invasion of Iraq. For quite a while after I had that horrible exhausted feeling that you get when you’ve had a really bad argument with someone. Horror as Scooch make the final two. Joy as Cyndi is announced as the winner. Confusion. Horror. Despair. Darkness. Should we blame Wogie for this emotional battering? Many Eurofans have wanted him publicly burned for a lot less than this. I have a deep (some would say unhealthy) love for this man and would consider myself a TYG. In spite of all the recent flack, I’m not giving up on you Wogie. However, this is the sort o

quick addendum - i think i might have judged the ukranian entry a little hastily. After accusations that the demented chacken was heard chanting "Russia goodbye!" during the winning performance, the tinfoil encased babushka refuted the accusations immediately. "You doozies! I was singing 'Lasha Tumbai'" she cried, claiming it was OF COURSE Mongolian for 'whipped cream'. Worried NTU execs were temporarily assuaged, but cynics at diggiloo.net were not to be fooled, and on consulting mongolian scholars on the matter, discovered that- shock horror!! - whipped cream is actually called something else in Mongolian. Dame Verka, meanwhile, remains resolute to the point that she has changed her song title to "Dancing Lasha Tumbai". Brilliant.

According to my nice black marks and spencers diary, tonight is the eve of the vernal equinox on which day, according to said source, spring begins. Sprang! Could have fooled me, for whoever "they" are, they seem to be making a pretty damn good job of it so far. HOWEVER, the line "the archipelagic icicles have melted like the cage" has provoked debate in come circles (ok, one circle... well, actually triangle) and i was delighted that my favourite communist newsletter the guardian G2 yesterday enlightened me. The line is a reference to "The Gulag Archipelago", the seminial work by nobel prize winner Alexandr Solzhenitsyn who was sentenced to eight years in the gulag or Soviet labour prison camp after he critised Stalin in private correspondence with a friend. Of course! Like, duuuh. Meanwhile, the United Kingdom's entry provides a comparable showcase for lyrical subtlety: " Care for some salted nuts sir ?" No i damn well wouldn't, you rep

I'm doing my best to compose myself...but it's not easy. The men, women, boys and girls of this nation in which I reside have, in their infinitesimal wisdom, chosen Scooch to represent the British Isles in Helsinki. Four 30-something never-has-beens, dressed as airline trolley dollies, making innuendous interjections about "something to suck on while you land, sir?" over a backing track that probably once nearly made it as a Steps B-side. Thanks guys. I initially felt encouraged by the huge studio, the modern set, and by the general standard of presentation. I got into the spirit of things, feeling a little sorry for Brian Harvey as I watched his mum wipe his mouth for him in the postcard VT (someone tell me you saw this too - tragic), and even when he subsequently strained his way through the 3 minutes of his constipation-station ballad I felt uncomfortable, but safe. I thought the studio panel of 41 European neighbours was a nice touch. And I was delighted to see my

Honest to God though. Seriously though… Last but (not?) least. After remaining silent on the carry-on that is about to occur in Maidstone (recently voted fifth most exciting place in Kent) I thought I should say something. I had originally noted some short reactions and was going to blog them, but then thought that a moment’s silence might be a better reaction. Here is what I first thought on first hearing the 30 second clips: Big Brovaz: ‘Big Bro Thang’. One of the only songs to have any impact on me, it may be too credible for Eurovision. Hard to believe, I know. If we were going to send the sainted Morrissey though… Cyndi: ‘I’ll Leave My Heart’. Sounds like ‘You Raise Me Up’ which sounded like ‘Oh Danny Boy’ and that had taken its melody from the ‘Derry Air’. My concentration didn’t cover the full 30 seconds: I had clicked on a youtube clip of an i-pod being blended before Cyndi had finished. Brian Harvey: ‘I Can’ Too earnest and too high, even for Eurovision. Liz McClarnon: ‘

UK citizens, what I am about to write below demands your full attention. It may make for difficult reading, but I genuinely have your best interests at heart. I honestly (to God, though. Seriously, though) believe that you should VOTE FOR CYNDI in the UK's "Making Your Mind Up" national final (BBC1, 7.30pm). And, in the words of my dear Simon Cowell, "I'll tell you why": 1. Dignity - This is something that goes more than a little way in the voting when the Eurovision final comes round. Many people are deluded into thinking that the sparklier and slaggier the performance, the bigger the score. This is incorrect. If your song is slaggy, it also needs to be good to climb the scoreboard. Go figure - it's not called the Eurovision Song Contest for the craic. And having listened to the songs on offer from MYMU 4, none really display this critical combination. Cyndi's ballad might seem too safe, but I'd rather be wearing sensible shoes in a Volvo est

This is my moment. This is my Euromoment. With you. Not so long ago, I hit the wall. Eurofriends, you know what I mean. That moment when you've seen so many MP3s and YouTube clips, quarter-finals, semi-finals, second chances and wildcards that you can't see how you're going to make it through, but you know that there's no way back. So, I took myself across the pond to the place that gave birth to 1970's Eurovision victor - she who is known as Dana Domestic - to seek solace and inspiration. I made it. The breakthrough happened when I stood atop the Cliffs of Moher at sunset, with the ice cold coastal winds practically whipping the skin off my face. My first thought was not concern for my complexion, or my safety at the top of a 200m sheer drop in gale force gusts. All I could think of was how spectacular it would be to have a gold lamé outfit with a 5x10m blue satin cape and a set of 5 backing dancers with flags. I then experienced what I can only describe as an epip

Various serveral weeks later after a deluge of national finals, semi finals and a spanish selection which had massiel declare live on set that they better pay her more or she was going home to her bed (rumour has it TVE executives stuck their fingers in their ears and went la la la), battered and bruised my musical sensitivities may be but we almost have a line-up... And the good news is that the moments of brilliance:silly mistakes ratio is in the black, and that bold statement comes prior to my indoctrination phase. I feel there is a bit of an imbalance with a lot of strong stuff in the semis with some unworthy ingrates cruising into the final without so much as a wind machine, so undoubtedly there will be some wailing, grinding of teeth and gnashing of bones come semi final night. But it would seem a timely moment to focus on some highlights (not justin's, the attention would only encourage him, naughty step for erm... 34 minutes... NOW) and the worst cretchins. The earliest b