Lessons that can be learned from Eurovision 2012
I am a firm believer in education for all, and that includes the artists of Eurovision. If they could only take something valuable away from their time at the contest, to pass on to their successors, their countries could potentially be looking at decades of improved results.
As Baku 2012 has just been and gone, and many of us are still scrubbing flags off our faces (I blame Sharpies) and trying to get all the popcorn kernels out of our shagpile carpets (I blame Jedward) I thought, why not start some lessons now? There’s plenty of time for Rona, Loreen, Engelbert and the rest of this year’s entrants to look back at their own successes/complete failures and learn from them so the artists of 2013 get to experience the same highs, or at least avoid the same plunge to the depths of the scoreboard. So listen up, Europe…
Dreadlocks will get you far in the contest (just ask Beth, Spain’s 2003 representative) so the more obvious you can make it that you have them, the better. Wearing one around the neck is a good start, but why not make an entire costume out of dreads?
If that is a little too out there for you, then just stick with the vampiress look, because that works just as well (just ask Kseniya, Mika Newton’s sand artist from last year). Don’t go completely Twilight on us though. You must vamp it up in moderation (just ask DJ Bobo and his Swiss bloodsuckers).
No matter how hard you try to ensure you won’t win Eurovision two years in a row – for example, if you hire someone to vocally drown you out for the last half of your performance – you will always find yourself challenging for the title. Just accept it. Even if you sent a baboon dressed as Verka Seduchka you’d make the top 10.
PS – please do not send a baboon dressed as Verka Seduchka to Sweden.
Estonian-language songs tend to get you more points, especially when they are sung by hot men with very expressive eyebrows. I suggest you continue to send both of the above, and feel free to try and upgrade the hotness of the man by year. There’s nothing quite as satisfying as bettering yourself (and giving pathetic fans such as myself someone to drool over).
You are not invincible. Just because you made the top 10 every year during the period of 2003-2011, 90% of the time with the same ethno-pop song (you just gave it a remix, a new title and a new singer with a clothing allergy) does NOT mean you’re a shoo-in. I have no idea why that is. It just…is.
There is only so much tin foil and Jahn Teigen air jumps a continent can take, particularly two years in a row, as evident in your disappointing result. If you must return to the contest in the future, give us all at least a decade to forget about you (that’s about how long it will take your costume designers to construct a new set of shoulder pads for you both, anyway).
It turns out that rhinestone-encrusted blindfolds are not as silly as they look.
Okay, maybe they are, but they also get votes – votes which may not lift you to a winning position, but get you commendably far. If you bring the blindfold back next year, you might want to go totally crazy with the bling. Why not add some feathers (I hear Joan Franka is selling them by the bundle) or fairy lights? The more tacky and garish it is, the more people will pick up the phone for you, and the more jury members will think to themselves ‘this person has to be blind to have picked out such a heinous accessory! I simply must give them douze points in sympathy.’
Never, ever tell anyone that you are going to come first. Trust me, if Loreen had insisted to some journalist that she was going to win, we would all be looking forward to St. Petersburg 2013 and wondering if all the grannies will be alive by then to give a reprise.
Speaking of the grannies…when sending someone to represent you who witnessed the discovery of fire, make sure you provide them with a posse of other advanced-agers. Plus a couple of spares in case of emergency.
Flesh-flashing does not guarantee you a place in the final, whether the flesh belongs to super-hot female twins or a twenty-something wannabe rock star in a Farrah Fawcett wig. Neither does performing your song five notes south of its original key, come to think of it…
Marija Šerifović is an evil witch who will place a curse on anyone attempting to bring a Molitva-esque song to Eurovision. She will never allow another uplifting but mystical non-English ballad featuring an uprising of coordinated backing singers to succeed in the contest, especially when it is co-composed by the man behind Molitva (her archnemisis). Not unless someone defeats her by forcing her to listen to the considerably more popular ABBA’s entire back catalogue, that is.
The 177464673910th time’s the charm. In the future, always find a songwriter who has sent a ridiculous amount of songs to the contest and its preselections, but never quite hit the heights, to mastermind your entries. If you can find artists who are willing to crab-dance in front of a live audience of thousands and a TV audience of 120 million, that helps too.
If you were going to dress like a ShamWow, you should have at least offered your services to Jedward after they’d soaked themselves in that fountain. You could have dried them off in a jiffy!
As mentioned under “Russia”, one geriatric singer = failure. Six to eight = success. No matter how much the fame of the former exceeds the latter. Also keep in mind that older men do not go down as well as older women (although neither of them go down well on their knees because they’re all riddled with arthritis).
What lessons did you learn from Eurovision this year?
NEXT TIME: Forget about the Marcel Bezençon Awards – it’s time for the annual EBJ Awards for Eurovision Excellence. In 2012, they’re going to be bigger and better than ever!