Troubled Twat, or My Boyfriend Is A Diva.

I once received a very pleasant and thoughtful e-mail from a passing stranger, which critiqued this site to a comfortable level of detail (just enough to show that he had been paying attention; not so much as to raise my Stalker Alarm), and in agreeably favourable terms (i.e. at a suitable mid-point between dutifully polite and queasily sycophantic). Then, right at the end of the e-mail, he revealed that he had stumbled across my site by typing “tony parsons is a twat” into Google.

Never having used this phrase – such brutally derogatory invective not being my usual stock in trade – I was initially a little taken aback by this. (Besides which, my views on Tony Parsons are not a matter of public record.) However, since the phrase “is a twat” occurs on every one of my archive pages, I could hardly be too surprised for too long. Sometimes, you get the Google traffic you deserve.

All of which is a very roundabout way of letting you know that I’m currently guest-blogging on Zoe’s site, along with fellow guests anna, vitriolica and auntymarianne. One can only guess at the sort of Google-trade she has to contend with – but I bet it ain’t pretty. Anyway, HELLO BELGIUM! Your Top Ten’s rubbish, your Eurovision entry was worse, but who cares! Luvyatabits anyways!

Land of Too Many Effing Drums: Stylus Does Eurovision 2005, Part One.

Still suffering from Eurovision withdrawal symptoms? If so, then here’s a chance to relive the glories of Saturday May 21st all over again, as Stylus magazine’s panel of observers (including myself) offer a blow-by-blow “as live” commentary. Part Two Three follows tomorrow.

Also on Stylus today: this week’s UK Singles Jukebox, in which you’ll find my comments on new releases from Faithless (brutal desecration of lovely old album track), MC Lars (clever-clever music biz satire), Groove Coverage (I *heart* crappy low-rent Euro-dance cover versions!) and Ben Adams (former boybander strives for “maturity”).

Because I abhor waste: here’s a fifth review, which didn’t make the final cut.

Blue Orchid – White Stripes [8]

The yardstick against which this must be judged is, of course, “Seven Nation Army”. Does it have the Big Riff? Oh yes. Is the riff big enough? Potentially – but with its arena-filling potential as yet untested, it is difficult to say for certain. That aside, the familiar Jack/Meg dynamic is as engrossing as ever, and the overt Led Zep-isms (with Jack cast as a screeching Page/Plant hydra) are pulled off with aplomb.

The most linked UK weblogs, May 2005.

In May 2004, I compiled a Top 50 chart of the most linked UK weblogs, using data culled from Technorati. A year later, I’ve decided to do the same thing again, with the list expanded to a Top 60.

As you’ll see, there has been a lot of movement, with 19 new entries in the Top 50 and some significant climbers. Inevitably, the bar for inclusion has also been raised. A year ago, the #50 blog only needed 114 links to qualify; this year, it needs 218. As a result, all of the blogs which have dropped down the chart have actually gained significant numbers of new links.

The usual caveats apply. Links are only counted if they come from other weblogs, so there is little indication of popularity in the outside world. A high number of links does not necessarily mean a high amount of traffic, and vice versa. As “political” weblogs tend to have much longer blogrolls than other weblogs, the chart is therefore weighted in their favour to a certain degree. Blogs which have changed their URLs in the last year lose all their old links, and have to start again from zero. (Like this one, in fact.) Blogs with two completely different URLs suffer, as I can only include one of them. (If I added the two figures together, then there would be too many duplicates.) And – most importantly of all – there is not necessarily any meaningful correlation between popularity and quality. So no tears before bedtime, OK?

My definition of a “UK weblog” – which might well differ from yours – is that its author should be currently resident in the UK. If it’s a group weblog, then the majority of its authors should be living in the UK. Actual British citizenship doesn’t come into it; residency is all that’s required. This also means that I’ve excluded weblogs written by ex-pat Brits who are living abroad.

As always, there are bound to be some omissions. If you know of a blog which should be included, then please let me know.

(This was partially inspired by a new site called Blogebrity, which has attempted to codify the whole A-list / B-list / C-list thing for real, but which – so far as I can detect – has only included two UK weblogs on its lists. Apparently, there’s also a glossy “blog celebrity” magazine in the pipeline. Yes, that’s what I thought.)

Continue reading “The most linked UK weblogs, May 2005.”

“Bored now. Next craze please.”

No sooner do I say this, than Timothy pops up in my comments box to tell me what it is: namely, a web-based project entitled 40 artists, 40 days.

This blatant, blatant hijacking of my pioneering and celebrated 40 In 40 Days Project is a wheeze cooked up by The Tate Gallery, in support of London’s 2012 Olympics bid. Working rather like an Advent Calendar, a brand new artwork will be revealed on the Tate website each day, from today until July 6th. (There’s more information here.) Today’s first work is a portrait by Sam Taylor-Wood, with future contributors including Antony Gormley, Mario Testino and Norman Foster. My kind of thing, if you ignore all that sporting nonsense.

Oh, that goes in there. Then that goes in there. And then it’s over.

Two weeks ago, I was still struggling with them. Some would end up in the bin, scrunched into cross little balls, messed up beyond redemption. The others would go to a proud little trophy pile at the edge of the desk, too perfect to chuck.

About twenty minutes of concentrated graft would generally do it – providing I swapped to “large” before printing, as I had a strict, sequential system which necessitated a lot of minuscule scribblings and crossings out along the way.

Today, faced with a supposedly hard one, I found myself abandoning the system for a looser, more holistic methodology. In not much more than ten easy minutes, it was done; tossed onto the pile with a triumphant flick of the wrist. Hard my arse.

The lesson – that an experientally acquired holistic approach will beat a painstakingly applied sequential approach, once the necessary leap of faith is made – is one I could do with bearing in mind, linear thinker that I am. But enlightenment has its price. Today, that flick was triumphant. Tomorrow it will be casual. Soon it will be indifferent. And then my fun will be over.

Bored now. Next craze please.

Umlauts: we like the Europop and we’re not afraid to say it.

Umlauts is the new music-blogging venture from Edward O, who was responsible for last year’s widely admired Enthusiastic but Mediocre. As before, Edward will be running a regular feature: The Cross-Europe Chart Challenge of Death, in which fifteen different European countries have their singles charts evaluated by a panel of pundits.

Ever eager to trot out a pithy capsule review or two, I have now joined the panel, whose verdicts on the current Top 10 singles in Belgium are now available for inspection. Having spent the last few days immersed in Belgian pop (when I’ve not been immersed in Eurovision), all I can say is that I will never complain about the UK singles charts again. Take it from me, kids: we just don’t know how lucky we are.

Having said that, I can wholeheartedly recommend a wonderful piece of Schlager-pop by Laura Lynn, called Je Hebt Me 1000 Maal Belogen. How reassuring to know that stuff like this, which I thought had died out years ago, is still being produced and enjoyed. Interested? Then take a good look at the end of the article.

Continue reading “Umlauts: we like the Europop and we’re not afraid to say it.”

Eurovision 2005: I don’t really do post-match reports…

…previews being my particular speciality, but I’d be interested to know what you lot made of last night’s contest. But while I’m here, some quick-fire observations:

1. The best songs on the night were mostly placed at the start of the draw, which made for a spectacular opening salvo. Indeed, several members of last night’s gang in front of the telly swiftly declared it to be the best contest ever.

2. However, there was a distinct tail-off in quality after the bangin’ granny of Moldova, followed by a dramatic slump after Serbia. This could only spell good news for Greece, whose entry shone out from the herd by comparison.

3. Although the level of chat in the room drowned out most of Wogan’s commentary, I did catch his lament that many of this year’s songs sounded indistinguishable from another. That would be the BOWEI (Blend Of Western & Eastern Influences) factor, then. It’s an Issue, isn’t it? And honestly, if I ever clap eyes on one more Big Sodding Drum, I’ll… I’ll… well, I don’t know what I’ll do. But it won’t be pretty.

4. The voting went on far, far too long. It was fine in the old days, when only the couple of dozen participating countries on the night voted – but come on, thirty-nine separate juries? Something needs to be done. Watching numbers float about on a screen for the thick end of an hour and a half is not many people’s idea of good prime time entertainment. Two of our lot fell fast asleep. Hell, even I started wilting a little.

5. I’m a bit worried about the potential fall-out from the “big four” countries (UK, Germany, France, Spain), who customarily stump up most of the dosh in return for automatic entry to the finals, finishing in the last four positions. Will they get the hump and start withdrawing their funding? Because the alternative – corporate sponsorship – would be a grisly prospect indeed. As I’ve said before: the day the event turns into the Pepsi Max Eurovision, hosted by Beyoncé, is the day I’ll lose interest.

6. There is, however, an obvious solution to the UK’s continuing dismal record in the voting. (All together now: POOR Javine!) And that is… devolution! If we adopted the football approach, fielding separate entries for England, Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland, then we could all block-vote for each other, and everyone would be happy. And why not throw in Lundy, Rockall and the Isle Of Man for good measure? Ker-ching! Sorted!

7. Nevertheless, and despite all the above grumbles, my ardour for Eurovision remains resolutely undimmed. So much so, that after two years of watching the contest on the telly, I find myself ready and eager to re-enter the fray. So, Athens 2006, then? I am like so there already. Try keeping me away.

Still hungry for more? Than why not gorge yourselves upon Anna Pickard’s live running commentary for Guardian Unlimited? (I’m involved in something similar, which will be appearing on Another Web Site in the fullness of time.)

Alternatively, you could check last night’s results on the official scoreboard – where you’ll notice that the UK’s only votes came from Ireland (English speaking), Malta (ditto), Cyprus (army bases) and Turkey (where Touch My Fire has been a hit).

I am now officially Eurovisionned out. Is there still a world out there? Maybe it’s time to step outside and smell the flowers.

(P.S. I am rubbish at making predictions. Worse than last year, in fact. See below for proof. Eight out of twenty-four? And I try to pass myself off as an expert? Pathetic.)

Eurovision 2005 finals preview.

God, but I’m a glutton for punishment. Here we go again, folks!

(Note: the performance pictures linked below to were all taken at full dress rehearsals, for maximum verisimilitude. More links will follow once the next set of dress rehearsal pictures become available. Nope, sorry: can’t find any fully costumed dress rehearsal photos anywhere. Guess we’ll have to wait and see on the night after all.)

1. Hungary – Forogj világ – Nox. (photo)

Artistically (ahem) speaking, the Magyar Riverdance will make a splendid start to the contest – although in terms of vote-gathering, being drawn first has probably scuppered its chances of landing inside the Top 10. Nevertheless, the clappity-clappitys and the tappity-tappitys still sound great, and the choreography is… well… Oh look, just forget the song and its earnest cultural aspirations (“ancient Hungarian pentatonic scales” be damned!), ignore the singer, and feast your eyes on the campest dance troupe this side of Bangkok. Particularly Madam down the front, who starts the whole thing off. (As Paddy O’Connell said in his semi-final commentary on BBC3: “I’m sure I’ve seen some of those boys out in London on a Saturday night”.) Who knew that hanging-out-the-washing day in Hungary was such a ritualised event?

Points: 84. Prediction: 11 to 15.
Actual result: 12th. CORRECT.

2. UK – Touch My Fire – Javine.

So, it’s the old Slot Of Doom for Poor Javine, then. (No song drawn in second position has ever won Eurovision, you see.) There’s also the awkward matter of her chosen idiom, as that whole Blending Of Western & Eastern Influences schtick has been comprehensively done to death this year. So much so, that to save me repeatedly typing the whole thing out each time, I’m going to coin a new acronym: BOWEI. Do you think it will catch on?

Earlier in the week, I was loyally predicting Top 10. Now I think it’s fairly unlikely. (Don’t worry: we can still blame our continued unpopularity on that warmongering Blair fellow, just like last year.) No, what’s needed to save the day is another Nipplegate incident. Come on, Javine! Be a sport and pop ’em out, love!

Points: 77. Prediction: 11 to 15.
Actual result: 22nd. INCORRECT.

3. Malta – Angel – Chiara.

The full-figured and radiantly lovely Chiara came within inches of beating Dana International at Birmingham 1998; it was quite literally down to the very last vote of the night. In the event, she finished third – and ended up spending a few years in a bit of a career wilderness, before bouncing back from obscurity with this equally sweet old-fashioned ballad. Although the song itself may not be the greatest, I’m anticipating a warm, sincere performance from Chiara, who does have an enviable ability of connecting with her audience. And there’s the nub of it: for all the gimmickry on display, most winning Eurovision performances retain an irreducible sincerity at their core. Pure showbiz cheese never does it, no matter how flashy the costumes. So I’m sticking my neck out, and predicting Top 5 for this one.

Points: 79. Prediction: 2 to 5.
Actual result: 2nd. CORRECT.

4. Romania – Let Me Try – Luminita Anghel & Sistem. (photo)

In a contest stuffed brimful with Big Drumming, Romania’s answer to Stomp wins hands down for the Biggest Drumming of the night. Big huge f**k-off yellow oil-drums a-go-go! Even on the feet! Plus, in a possible homage to the avant-garde German metal-bashers Einstürzende Neubauten, angle grinders! Yes, the “sparks will be flying” in the hall tonight, with this “explosive” performance! (I shall refrain from passing comment on Luminita’s extraordinarily globe-like orbs, as I have already mentioned bosoms once, and you might start to get the wrong idea.)

Points: 73. Prediction: 6 to 10.
Actual result: 3rd. INCORRECT.

5. Norway – In My Dreams – WigWam. (photo)

Well, what else is there left to say about these four spandexed hod-carriers d’un certain age and their fantastically exciting brand of 1980s stadium rock, other than WINNERS? (No, that’s really not Jessie “Kat Slater” Wallace on vocals. That’s a Norwegian fella called “Glam”.) Despite an annoying dip in sound quality during their performance, WigWam sailed through the qualifiers, increasing their popularity in the hall ten-fold by attaching a large orange flag to the singer’s microphone stand. (Orange being the colour of Ukraine’s popular revolution last December, you see.) Gesture of solidarity, or cheap stunt? I know which way I’m leaning. But still: WINNERS!

Points: 92. Prediction: WINNER.
Actual result: 9th. INCORRECT.

6. Turkey – Rimi Rimi Ley – Gülseren.

I’m going to have to quote Paddy O’Connell’s BBC3 commentary again: “There can be no ley without rimi rimi”. Will Wogan attempt a similar cheeky crack? Methinks not. No, he’ll probably stick to the tried and tested “whiff of the souk”, as per usual. For we are back on BOWEI territory here, as served up by the country who won the contest two years ago, thus kicking off the whole craze in earnest. Expect some seriously florid choreography here, along with some (yawn) very Big Drumming indeed. (Believe me, you’ll never want to look at a Big Drum again after tonight.)

Points: 69. Prediction: 16 to 20.
Actual result: 13th. INCORRECT.

7. Moldova – Bunica Bate Toba – Zdob si Zdub. (photo)

I knew this was going to be good at the semis… but I didn’t know it was going to be ABSOLUTELY BLOODY FANTASTIC. Hell, even my long-suffering Europhobic partner K liked it. That’s a first! The promised “thrash-folk” turns out to be about eight parts thrash to two parts folk, with proper pogo-ing and everything, and as for the rock-a-beatin’ Granny herself… well, you’ll see. As the band themselves say: “I smile, I cry when I see that crazy baba, dizzy tempo dizzy, let’s go my music-mama!” (Oh, and is it me, or are they really singing about knickerbocker glories in the chorus?)

Points: 95. Prediction: 2 to 5.
Actual result: 6th. INCORRECT.

8. Albania – Tomorrow I Go – Ledina Çelo.

BOWEI time once again, with most of the usual elements: the strings, the skirlings, the wordless chanting (“di di da, di di da”), the power, the passion… you should know the drill by now. Lyrically, this tells the tale of a trepidatious young bride bidding farewell to her tearful mother on the night before her wedding, in a manner that hints that she might not be entirely thrilled by the prospect. So much so, that you’d think she was being led to the guillotine rather than the altar. Although reports from the rehearsals have been fairly dismal, we should still at least try and offer some encouragement to plucky little Albania, who have only entered the contest once before.

Points: 50. Prediction: 21 to 24.
Actual result: 16th. INCORRECT.

9. Cyprus – Ela Ela – Constantinos Christoforou.

My persistence is outrageous, you’ll be mine cause I’m contagious.” In other words, he’ll be all over you like a rash. We’re already onto the fourth BOWEI of the night, and what more can I tell you: same tempo, same ethnic skirlings, same Big Drums (if a little more muted than some), same wordless chanting (“ela ela ela la”)… so far, so formulaic. However, the Cypriot entry spells good news for those of you who have been impatiently awaiting the first appearance of that evergreen Eurovision rhyming couplet: fire (FYE-ya!) and desire (diz-EYE-ya!). Rest assured that it won’t be the last.

Points: 63. Prediction: 16 to 20.
Actual result: 18th. CORRECT.

10. Spain – Brujería – Son de Sol.

Brujeria shares a producer with Las Ketchup’s The Ketchup Song – and my God, can’t you just tell, as this is to all intents and purposes Son Of Ketchup. And why not? The relentless jollity has been cranked up yet another notch, and the whole thing is enlivened greatly by the rambunctious brassiness of Son de Sol, whose vocals have an appealingly fishwifey quality: you’re not so much being invited to have fun as being nagged into it, and if you don’t jump to your feet this instant, then they’re not above getting the rolling-pins out. Besides, how could you not warm to an act whose spare time pursuits include “going to the beach, having drinks with friends, buying nice shoes and not worrying about the time when it comes to putting their make-up on!” My kinda gals!

Points: 74. Prediction: 6 to 10.
Actual result: 21st. INCORRECT.

11. Israel – Hasheket Shenish’ar (The Silence That Remains) – Shiri Maymon. (photo)

One of the major surprises of the semi-finals was Glennis Grace’s failure to qualify for the Netherlands, despite a fine performance and some top-notch Big Arm Movements. (I had a great time mirroring them at home, and was going to suggest that you did the same; what fun we would have had together.) However, the biggest and best ballad of the night came instead from Shiri Maymon: a singer with the somewhat artificial look of a Mariah Carey, but with a vocal performance that comes straight from the heart. Proper singing, in other words; a scarce commodity in this section of the contest. As for the song: it’s an old-fashioned ballad with a desolately bleak lyric (you can read it in translation here), which describes the suffering at the end of a relationship almost in terms of a junkie going cold turkey. I voted for this on Thursday, and shall probably do so again tonight, as this deserves a strong placing which I fear it will struggle to earn. Philistines, the lot of you!

Points: 86. Prediction: 11 to 15.
Actual result: 4th. INCORRECT.

12. Serbia & Montenegro – Zauvijek Moja – No Name.

Serbia surprised many people by finishing second last year, with a song whose title translated as “Lovely Fawn”. Which just shows that you should never discount the power of Balkan bombast (and, OK, a little bit of neighbourly block-voting) – especially when it’s served up with this degree of class. Sounding like a Slavic Walker Brothers, but looking like the fresh-faced kids next door, the incongruously youthful No Name deliver a splendidly brooding ballad, backed up with a fine orchestral arrangment, full of swelling strings, thundering kettledrums and gruff yelps of passion. “I’ll reach out for you across the Rocky Mountains, take you to my old stone house, and the sound of bells will rise above us and will meet the sky.” Ee, that’s poetry, that is. Two classy joints in a row? It can’t last, can it?

Points: 85. Prediction: 6 to 10.
Actual result: 7th. CORRECT.

13. Denmark – Talking To You – Jacob Sveistrup. (photo)

No, I’m afraid it can’t. Denmark’s success in the semis was another big surprise – and try as I might, I just cannot fathom the appeal of this utterly routine piece of reggae-tinged jaunty pop. I can only suppose that it made a nice change after all the Big Drumming, gaudy costumes and over-egged dance routines on Thursday night. Anyway, special needs teacher Jacob seems like a nice guy, and as allegedly the first “out” gay singer since Paul Oskar in 1997 – married to his husband for the past five years, with an an adopted child – one feels a certain tribal kinship. But really, this is pants. Toilet break!

Update: Er, hang on. All that “out” gay/husband/adopted child stuff was actually in relation to last year’s Danish entrant, wasn’t it? That will teach me to recycle information from Saturday’s Guardian, then.

Points: 38. Prediction: 16 to 20.
Actual result: 10th. INCORRECT.

14. Sweden – Las Vegas – Martin Stenmarck.

And you can take your time as well, because this is scarcely any better. Did it really knock out Alcazar, Shirley Clamp, Nanne Gronvall, Bodies Without Organs and Pay TV in the “Melodifestivalen” national qualifiers? Why, Sweden, why? Because this is pure cornball cheese: a showbizzy homage to Las Vegas, which tips a stylistic nod at Tom Jones along the way. Martin Stenmarck’s performance is slick and energetic, and is not without its supporters, but this just ain’t doing it for me. If you’re back from the loo early, then go and grab yourself something from the kitchen. And once again, there’s no hurry…

Points: 40. Prediction: 16 to 20.
Actual result: 19th. CORRECT.

15. F.Y.R. Macedonia – Make My Day – Martin Vicic. (photo)

…because this equally baffling qualifier from the semis makes it three duds in a row, I’m afraid. Apparently, this is the one which really set tongues wagging in Kyiv throughout Friday, the question “WHY Macedonia?” practically bouncing off the walls of the press area. The usual arrangement of BOWEI clichés, basically. You can probably draw up your own list by now: gypsy flutes CHECK, nasty skirling indigenous pipe thing CHECK, invisible lesbian drummers CHECK, dramatic key change CHECK. Anyway, it’s the one about cuddly toys, sung by the “grandson of a famous bagpipe player”. Let’s hope he ditches that awful pink jacket, at least.

Points: 53. Prediction: 16 to 20.
Actual result: 17th. CORRECT.

16. Ukraine – Razom nas bohato – Greenjolly.

Right, how long have you got? There was a lengthy article in Thursday’s Guardian about this, which tells you all you need to know about this song’s background as the popular anthem of December’s “Orange Revolution”. Basically, this is just one endlessly repeated rock-rap chant – “razom nas bohato, nas ne podolaty” – which translates as “together we are many, we cannot be defeated”. The overtly political lyrics, which originally mentioned President Yushchenko by name, have since been toned down, following a proclamation from on high that Eurovision songs should not be political in content. Nevertheless, they’re still pretty damned direct: “We won’t stand this – no! Revolution is on! ‘Cause lies be the weapon of mass destruction!” Hang on, didn’t Faithless sing something similar last year?

It goes without saying that this performance will cause flag-waving hysteria in the hall, and it therefore seems churlish to point out that the song itself is rudimentary at best, and therefore not destined to do well in the voting. But as emotionally charged moments go, these three minutes will take a lot of beating.

Points: 51. Prediction: 11 to 15.
Actual result: 20th. INCORRECT.

17. Germany – Run And Hide – Gracia.

If this year’s Eurovision has one new musical trend, then I guess it has to be rock, with exactly a quarter of this year’s finalists being rock tracks of some description. Having said that, Run And Hide is basically Schlager-pop in rock drag, co-composed as it is by that irrepressible old hack Bernd Meinunger, hiding behind the newly adopted pseudonym of “John O’Flynn”. This will be the 13th German Eurovision entry in which Meinunger has had a hand, including 1982’s winning song for Nicole (A Little Peace) – and that’s not counting his work for other countries, including this year’s entry for Switzerland (see below). The man is an unstoppable force, basically.

The other German/Swiss co-composer, one David Brandes, has found himself in the centre of a hyping scandal involving this song, as a result of which he has been officially banned from travelling to Kyiv with the German delegation. Which is somewhat immaterial when you consider that he’ll be there with the Swiss delegation anyway. Ooh, I bet there’ll be tension in that Green Room tonight.

You’ll notice that I haven’t said much about the song itself. There’s a reason for that. Shall we just say “uninspiring” and leave it at that?

Points: 44. Prediction: 21 to 24.
Actual result: 24th. CORRECT.

18. Croatia – Vukovi Umiru Sami – Boris Novkovic. (photo)

And back to the Baltic bombast we go. In 3/4 waltz tempo. With a man blowing into a haggis. And a deeply annoying “I’m mad, me” Big Drummer, who all but wrecks the entire mood of the song by coming to the front of the stage during its climax and doing a handstand. Ours not to question why. Not as good as the Serbian entry, but that choral work towards the end is really quite something.

Points: 65. Prediction: 6 to 10.
Actual result: 11th. INCORRECT.

19. Greece – My Number One – Helena Paparizou.

It’s the bookies’ favourite! Helena was last seen in 2001, coming third with her band Antique, and the dare-I-say-classic (I Would) Die For You. Her performance was a bit on the sulky side that night, so let’s hope she cheers up for this infectious slice of prime-cut BOWEI goodness. Of the night’s six BOWEI songs (the others being the UK, Turkey, Albania, Cyprus and Macedonia), My Number One is the last and the best, tweaking that well-worn formula to perfection. Assuming you can bear to hear one more sodding gypsy fiddle, that is. Most importantly of all, its impact is immediate; none of that “grows on you” nonsense here.

This also marks the second FYE-ya! diz-EYE-ya! rhyme of the night – but where Cyprus was happy to leave it at that, Greece goes one better, tacking on a cheeky take me HYE-ya! for good measure. It’s little touches like that which make all the difference. To say nothing of rhyming delicious, capricious and vicious in the first verse. Take that, Cyprus! Not that any of this will affect the ritual swapping of the Greek-Cypriot douze points later on, of course.

Points: 78. Prediction: 2 to 5.
Actual result: 1st. INCORRECT.

20. Russia – Nobody Hurt No-One – Natalia Podolskaya.

It’s Avril Lavigneski! Hang on, weren’t we cracking the same joke last year? Ah well, no matter. There’s virtue in consistency. Lyrically, this is a relatively high-minded attempt to discuss the American gun control situation, particularly in relation to the recent spree of high-school killings – an attempt which is somewhat undermined by its choice of “little Erica” as the song’s young heroine, purely because she rhymes with “America”. I started off hating this. I’ve softened up a bit since then, but Eurovision and “meaningful” still make uneasy bedfellows, and I can’t see this attracting more than the usual neighbourly block votes.

Points: 49. Prediction: 21 to 24.
Actual result: 15th. INCORRECT.

21. Bosnia & Herzegovina – Call Me – Feminnem.

Right then. If your idea of a good Eurovision song is still “one that sounds a bit like Abba”, then this is the moment you’ve been waiting for. There are also strong echoes of 1999’s winning entry for Sweden, Charlotte Nilsson’s Take Me To Your Heaven, in this frothy, upbeat, happy-go-lucky confection. Yes, I suppose you can say that it’s “camp” – but I prefer my camp to be less clinically calculated than this. I know, how curmudgeonly. What am I, the gate-keeper of kitsch?

Still: full marks for calling yourselves Feminnem, I guess. Naturally, they’ve all got nicknames: Sexy, Baby and Fancy. See if you can work out which is which! And are they really singing “united in the song that fornicates”? Ladies, really!

It’s perhaps worth mentioning that a “leading musicologist” has been dredged up from somewhere, to run some sort of detailed “comparative analysis” on the Eurovision entries from all fifty contests. (And you thought I was a glutton for punishment?) His considered verdict: that Abba’s Waterloo is the most perfectly constructed Eurovision song of all time, and that Feminnem’s Call Me is the most perfectly constructed of this year’s entries. Academics, eh? What do they know?

Points: 70. Prediction: 2 to 5.
Actual result: 14th. INCORRECT.

22. Switzerland – Cool Vibes – Vanilla Ninja. (photo)

How are you holding up out there? Chins up! The end is in sight! And here are Ver Ninje, come to lift our spirits with a little touch of neo-Goth in the night. “Why don’t you kill me?“, they chirrup. “Can’t you see we’re free to die?“, they trill, no doubt echoing the thoughts of thousands of long-suffering spouses and partners who are wondering why they didn’t go down the pub instead of staying in to watch this load of old nonsense. Could this pick up the protest vote from the silent majority? Or will it simply do well because Ver Ninje are actually an Estonian band, and will therefore unite both the powerful Baltic and Germanic blocks of voters? There are some shrewd tactics being played out there.

Points: 56. Prediction: 11 to 15.
Actual result: 8th. INCORRECT.

23. Latvia – The War is Not Over – Valters & Kaža. (photo)

Good grief, Europe! What is wrong with you, that you should have voted this dismal dirge through from the Thursday night semis? Were you really charmed by the use of sign language in the middle – which, as the great Paddy O’Connell pointed out, ended up looking less like sign language and more like a Steps dance routine? Come on Europe – they’re playing you for fools! Listen to the lyrics! They don’t MEAN anything! It’s just a load of old twaddle strung together, that sounds vaguely “deep” if you don’t actually stop and analyse it! Trust me! I research these things so that you don’t have to!

Hmm. I think cabin fever might be setting in. This is, after all, the 58th “capsule review” that I’ve written for this year’s contest, if you include 10 for Time Out magazine and 25 for the semi-finals. I can hear the birds singing outside, the catmint in the garden needs cutting back, and I’ve not even shaved or brushed my teeth yet today, so great is my desire to get these things posted on the web before lunchtime. But hey, enough about me. Can I just point out that the young chap on the left is a dead ringer for Brie Vanderkamp’s not-gay-after-all teenage son on Desperate Housewives?

Points: 34. Prediction: 6 to 10.
Actual result: 5th. INCORRECT.

24. France – Chacun Pense a Soi – Ortal.

With few natural allies to count on, France rarely do well in the contest these days – and it is therefore to their credit that they never attempt to play any of the more obvious vote-grabbing games, instead submitting worthy ballad after worthy ballad, year after year. This is more uptempo than most, with alleged Berber/Andalusian influences, and a lyric which wags a disapproving finger at the selfishness which undermines so much of today’s society. Unfortunately, the moral high ground is rather snatched from under France’s feet, as the distinctive Berber/Andalusian vocal inflections does make it sound as if they’re singing about shagging a man. Listen carefully, and you’ll see what I mean.

Points: 55. Prediction: 21 to 24.
Actual result: 23rd. CORRECT.

My ten favourites:
1. Moldova (thrash-folk Granny-bashing)
2. Norway (slappers in spandex)
3. Israel (classy Carey)
4. Serbia & Montenegro (Balkan bombast boyband)
5. Hungary (clappity-tappity)
6. Malta (big and beautiful)
7. Greece (vicious, capricious, delicious)
8. UK (JaVIIIIIIne!)
9. Spain (Son Of Ketchup)
10. Romania (post-industrial angle grinders)

My predictions:
1. Norway
2. Moldova
3. Greece
4. Malta
5. Bosnia & Herzegovina

22. France
23. Germany
24. Albania

And that’s your lot for this year. Overseas readers can stream tonight’s contest, or via the BBC, or – and I gather that this is a good strong reliable stream, if you can handle the Dutch commentary – at Hey, you’d be mad not to.

Anna Pickard, she of the, will also be providing a live, minute-by-minute commentary on the Guardian Unlimited site – I’m not sure precisely where, but it should be easy enough to find. I dare say that there will also be a live rolling discussion thread over at I Love Music, which should be entertainingly snarky – “mach’ mit!”, as they say in Germany. I’m going off to shave and brush my teeth now. Six hours to go! Whoop!

Eurovision 2005 semi-finals preview: Part Three.

It’s been pretty good up until now, hasn’t it? Comedy metal, formation scratching, big brassy Bassey-eque belters, rockin’ grannies, oompah salsa, and more invisible lesbian drummers than you could shake a stick at. Unfortunately, things take a marked downward turn from this point on, and never really recover until… well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. So pour yourself another extra-large glass of whatever gets you through, and brace yourself for… The Boring Bit.

19. Switzerland – Cool Vibes – Vanilla Ninja.

Oh, how the mighty Ninje have fallen! Such delirious good fun two years ago, when Club “Kung-Fu”nearly qualified for Estonia, but just look at them now that they’ve defected to sensible old Switzerland: all grown-up and mature, and brandishing proper instruments like a Proper Rock Band, and coming over all “heavily influenced by Incubus” in their press releases, and… well, this isn’t the Ninje that we knew and loved way back when. As it is, Cool Vibes is a moody mid-paced rocker; not without merit, but far from what the girls are capable of. (Incidentally, the song’s two composers were also responsible for the German entry, which you’ll be hearing on Saturday.)
53 points.

20. Croatia – Vukovi Umiru Sami – Boris Novkovic.

Actually, this isn’t so bad. It’s high time we had some full-blooded, hairy-chested Balkan bombast, and this is a fairly respectable example of the genre. It lilts along in 3/4 time, with a chorus that fairly begs you to sway from side to side en masse, and is accompanied by the usual curious selection of indigenous instruments (including, unless my eyes deceive me, a man who looks like he’s blowing into a haggis). Nice open-throated choral work towards the end, as well.
65 points.

21. Bulgaria – Lorraine – Kaffe.

Not. A. Hope. In. Hell. Look, I don’t want to ruin all the surprises here, but guess what they’ve chosen as the key rhyme for “Lorraine” in the chorus? (Apart from “sweeter the pain” and “again and again”, that is. They’re a given.)

Answer: “the rain”. As in: “I can still remember Lorraine… in the rain.” Genius!

Marginally redeemed by some passable smooth-jazz inflections in its arrangement, I dare say this might have gone down well at a Rotary Club dinner-dance in 1978. As for the fast-paced international milieu of Kyiv in 2005… forget it.
33 points.

22. Ireland – Love? – Donna & Joseph McCaul.

All these years on, and the Irish television authorities are still terrified of fielding a song which might stand even a ghost of a chance of winning, just in case they get saddled with the expense of hosting the damn thing next year. (For those who might have forgotten, Ireland won the contest four times in five years during the 1990s.) Aren’t those credit card bills paid off yet? Couldn’t they hire Bono to front a Drop The Debt campaign? Because the grisly alternative is inflicting us with yet another bunch of fresh-faced provincial hopefuls, barely able to believe their luck, mining the same “enthusiastic amateur” seam as our own dear Gemini in 2003.

Oh, just slap me, will you. I’m being far, far too mean. The song itself may be dire, but you can’t help loving the two chirpy siblings for their eager, up-for-it, “we’re going to have the time of our lives, no matter what happens” attitude. Proper Spirit Of Eurovision, that is. Long may it continue.
47 points.

23. Slovenia – Stop – Omar Naber.

Speaking of enthusiastic amateurs, our next contestant has a day job as a dental technician – so he’s sure to put a gleaming smile on millions of faces tonight! (Sorry – I’ve been reading more press releases than are strictly good for me.) Penned by the writer of one of my favourite Eurovision entries ever, Nusa Derenda’s storming Energy (7th in 2001), this is stylistically very different but almost as dramatic, starting as a typical Balkan Bombast ballad before exploding in a hail of yowling rock guitars about halfway through. Although initially unimpressed, I’m slowly coming round to it. Or maybe it’s just that prolonged exposure to all thirty-nine tracks has warped my normal sense of aesthetics out of all recognition. (This usually happens. Hazard of the profession.)
57 points.

24. Denmark – Talking To You – Jacob Sveistrup.

From a dental technician, we move next to a teacher in a special needs school for autistic children. Which we applaud, of course. But sadly, our applause doesn’t extend to this unexceptional mid-tempo pop-reggae effort, which passes straight through us without leaving any trace of its existence behind. Rather like tofu, in fact. Buck up! Only one more to go!
41 points.

25. Poland – Czarna Dziewczyna – Ivan and Delfin.

If for no other reason, this deserves to qualify for the final purely so that Wogan can trot out that evergreen line: “Ah, the old melodian!” And qualify it should, as this has more life in it than the previous seven songs put together. Melding the aforesaid melodian with a breakneck gabba-techno tempo, a twanging Shadows-esque guitar break, lashings of gypsy campfire chanting, and a chorus which consists entirely of the word “laj” (pronounced “lye”), this is topped off by a camp-as-tits performance, equally camp pink and white outfits, and a final flourish of strategic costume shedding from Ivan himself. What more could any self-respecting Eurovision fan possibly want?
70 points.

My ten favourites:
1. Norway (comedy metal)
2. Estonia (formation scratching)
3. Hungary (Magyar Riverdance)
4. Moldova (rockin’ Grandma)
5. Lithuania (polished Scandi-pop)
6. Romania (drummers from Stomp)
7. Monaco (orchestral flourishes)
8. Israel (classy ballad)
9. Austria (arriba-oompah)
10. Poland (laj laj laj laj…)
(Not forgetting Glennis from The Netherlands and her Big Arm Movements: a certainty to qualify.)

Don’t forget: BBC3, 20:00-22:15 tonight. See you back here tomorrow for the next set of previews, in which I shall be coining a helpful new acronym: BOWEI.

Eurovision 2005 semi-finals preview: Part Two.

12. Estonia – Let’s Get Loud – Suntribe.

Long-standing readers will remember the excitement round these parts in the Spring of 2003, when the Estonian girl-band Vanilla Ninja came tantalisingly close to representing their country with the mighty Club “Kung Fu”. It therefore gives me great pleasure to report that the song’s composer, one Sven Lõhmus, has more or less re-created the magic with his latest bunch of young protegées, the wholly delightful Suntribe. Once again, Let’s Get Loud is a riotously rockin’, deliriously uptempo, “all girls together” slumber-party of a tune – but with the added gimmick of, wait for it, formation scratching. Yes indeed! Five crazy ladies + five turntables = one crazy-happy party! And you were thinking of escaping to the pub on Thursday night?

You know how with every Eurovision, there’s a Good Bit somewhere in the middle, containing many of the strongest contenders? Well, we have just entered the Good Bit.
85 points.

13. Norway – In My Dreams – WigWam.

From formation scratching to comedy stadium metal, as the four members of WigWam – the somewhat misleadingly named Teeny, Glam, Sporty and Flash – blend the style of The Darkness with the sound of Bon Jovi/Def Leppard, to eye-popping effect. Which could have been frightful, were it not for the undeniable power of the track itself, and the sheer entertainment value of the band’s performance. Avoiding the off-putting smugness which can creep into parodies of this nature (Stefan Raab, I’m looking at you), there’s a decidedly endearing quality to the sight of this bunch of slapped-up old bifters, galumphing about in unforgivingly clingy spandex. An absolute dead cert for the finals – and the more I hear it, the more I think it could go all the way on Saturday night.
86 points.

14. Romania – Let Me Try – Luminita Anghel & Sistem.

Remember how last year’s contest was all about the Big Drumming? Well, the beat is most definitely back, as our crack team of invisible lesbian boom-thwackers is wheeled out once again, for the first of many similar excursions. Combine this with Ye Olde Hi-Energye Disco, Ye Olde Trancey Synthe Stabbes, and Ye Tyme-Honoured Key Chaynge At Ye Ende, throw in Ye Sounde Of Ye Gypsy Pan Pypes for good measure, and you have all the ingredients for success.

Sorry, sorry… HOLD the invisible lesbian drummers, as the Romanians have provided their own troupe of big yellow oil-drum bashing hunks, rather in the style of Stomp. Such spectacle! Whatever next?
75 points.

15. Hungary – Forogj világ – Nox.

A Magyar Riverdance, that’s what’s next, as treat piles upon treat. Having done spectacularly badly at Birmingham 1998, Hungary promptly stropped off in a sulk for the next few years, only to return in 2005 with a serious contender that is certain to qualify. Unfortunately, with the rules of the contest dictating that no more than six performers are allowed on stage, Nox’s extensive dance troupe has had to be drastically trimmed down – but reports suggest that the choreography is still quite something. (If the vertical bunny-hops have been axed, then I shall be most vexed.) Anyhow, the song itself claims to “build a bridge between the ancient Hungarian pentatonic scale with the world of contemporary music”, and as such, its aspirations are to be applauded. Watch out for gypsy violins, genuinely exciting syncopated clapping and tapping, and those all important Big Drums.
84 points.

16. Finland – Why – Geir Rönning.

Whew, that was exciting. Do we all need the toilet now? Yes, I think we do. Now that the Good Bit is over and done, Finland are here to kill the atmosphere stone dead with this excruciatingly dull and “meaningful” ballad. Look, when has Eurovision ever successfully done “meaningful”, at least since Nicole’s A Little Peace swept to victory in 1982? Still, if you like your candles to be burning, while “winds of faith” are blowing and tears are “falling down like rain”, then this is the one for you. Just save my place on the sofa for when I get back, will you?
20 points.

17. F.Y.R. Macedonia – Make My Day – Martin Vicic.

When the best strapline you can think of for your singer is “grandson of a famous bagpipe player”, then you know you’re up against it. However, potentially the biggest problem faced by the Macedonians is the stylistic similarity between this song’s uptempo blend of Eastern and Western influences, and a whole clutch of others which are already through to the finals. And there’s the rub. Every key element of “Make My Day” – the gypsy flutes, the Big Drums, the Big Key Change, the ethnically skirling middle section – is more successfully deployed elsewhere, leaving nothing else to remember but some strange lyrical business involving cuddly toys.
55 points.

18. Andorra – La Mirada Interior – Marian van de Wal.

Jeezus, enough with the invisible lesbian drummers already! You’ve made your point! There’s the bar! This is only Andorra’s second year in the contest, but I’m sensing that the pool of available performers may already be running short, as they’ve roped in the owner of the local guesthouse to do the honours. From Saturday night after hours singalongs in the Lounge Bar, to a major international stage and an audience of millions, Marian has certainly come a long way – and one wishes her well, of course. However, I just don’t see this getting any further.
46 points.

That Time Out article (again).

If Time Out isn’t available where you live, then I’ve just discovered that you can have the whole magazine delivered to you electronically, exactly as it appears in print, for the paltry sum of just £2.35.

Having picked up my copy this morning (a surreal event in its own right – see below), I have to say that I’m delighted with the way that the Eurovision article has been laid out. It’s the lead article in the music section, spread out over a full page with no adverts, with little national flags for each country, and even the bookies’ odds for each song mentioned. Oh, and they’ve even been nice enough to leave in that all-important plug for Troubled Diva at the end. (Best get on with writing the rest of those previews, then.)

If you’ve seen the article, then maybe you’ll have noticed my adoption of the royal “we” in a couple of places (e.g. “Top Three certainty, we reckon”). Yes – my first ever article in Time Out, and already I’m trying to pass myself off as the collective voice of the magazine. Such presumption! (There was actually a sound original reason for this, but let’s not obsess.)

Buying my copy was, as I’ve just said, something of a surreal event. Just as I entered the newsagents, my iPod switched to the song which is currently Number One in the Belgian singles charts (again, there’s a sound reason for this, but let’s not dawdle) – a cover version of Irene Cara’s Fame, as recorded by the contestants of a Belgian TV talent show called Star Academy. And – I’m not exaggerating here, honest – at the precise moment that I opened the right page and found my name at the top of the article, the first line of the chorus kicked in. “Remember my name! FAME! I’m gonna live for ever!

Sometimes, I love my life.

Remember when weblogs just used to LINK to things, no messing, end of story?

In the continued absence of my sidebar linklog, which suddenly stopped working one day for no apparent reason (I didn’t touch anything, honest), here is a link to one of the best posts from my favourite new blog of 2005. Mimi, a Brit working illegally in New York and trying to make it as a writer, has just started working as a waitress in a strip club. Her vivid, unflinching descriptions of her new life in hotpants and heels make for compelling reading. Distinct shades of Belle De Jour here, but without the distracting “real or fake” controversy that came to surround it. Meaning that, as with Belle, this probably won’t be for everyone – but I have to say that I’m gripped.

Oh, and while we’re here: Snarky commentary on vintage knitting and sewing patterns. I howled. But then snarky always goes down well with me. As you may have noticed.

Eurovision 2005 semi-finals preview: Part One.

(Note that these aren’t the same as the previews which I have written for this week’s Time Out magazine. Because that would be cheating.)

1. Austria – Y Asi – Global Kryner.

And straight away, with the very first song of this year’s contest, we strike “only at Eurovision” gold. Forget all of that “Fusion Of Eastern And Western Influences” stuff for a moment – there will be plenty of time for that later – and prepare instead to welcome a brand new musical genre: Cosmopolitan Karawanken Beat. And what’s that? Why, it’s a bold new blend of Cuban music with Alpine folk, of the oompah variety. Yes! You’ll be yodelling as you salsa with this heartwarming tale of cross-cultural love, as performed by a cheerful bunch of beer festival busker types. Check their website for Cosmopolitan Karawanken Beat re-workings of Like A Virgin, Something Stupid and Lady Marmalade, and marvel at the consistency of their trombone player (“well buff” according to strategically placed local sources), loyally parping out the same two notes over and over again.
71 points.

2. Lithuania – Little By Little – Laura & The Lovers.

Smooth, sleek Scandi-pop with a gleaming professional sheen, as put together by a predominantly Swedish team with telling connections to the mighty Alcazar. As for the abilities of Laura herself, I couldn’t have put it better than this quote from one of her songwriters: “The nuances in her voice are like the colours of the rainbow, sparkling with colourful tones and shades.” Blimey! Laura & The Lovers have also quickly endeared themselves to the press corps in Kiev, by handing out free condoms at their first press conference. Apparently there was something of a scrum. Which tells you a lot about the much vaunted “international party atmosphere” of rehearsal week.
80 points.

3. Portugal – Amar – 2B.

Historically one of the weakest countries in the contest (can YOU hum any of their songs from the past few years?), Portugal have made a particular effort to choose a strong song this year, ditching the usual public vote and opting instead to rely on a panel of experts. Consequently, and in stark contrast to its predecessors. Amar has a naggingly insistent and memorable chorus, if nothing else. (“Happy pretty way, happy shiny day, happy place to stay, we can hold it together!“) Oh, OK, let’s be cheap: there is nothing else. Except for an onstage back-flip, apparently. (But if you think that a mere back-flip is going to swing it, then you are sorely mistaken. The stakes are so much higher than that.)
52 points.

4. Moldova – Bunica Bate Toba – Zdob si Zdub.

Remember that squiffy sounding trumpet player from last year’s winning Ukranian entry, who appeared to be playing a different “tune” (if you could call it that) from everybody else? Well, I find myself wondering whether he has jumped over the border to neighbouring Moldova (making its Eurovision debut this year), in order to join up with this bunch of Raggle Taggle Gypsy-oh mentalists. Thrash-folk is the order of the day here, with this barely comprehensible ode to a Rockin’ Grandma who can’t stop a-bangin’ on her big bass drum. (And yes, fear not: the Rockin’ Grandma and her big bass drum WILL be appearing on stage. In a rockin’ chair, appropriately enough.)

This is also notable for what must be Eurovision’s first ever unequivocal drug reference. “Drain a bottle of wine, no need to smoke the leaves, by the end of that show you’ll blow yourself to bits.” Absolutely. Because why bother wasting time with boring old leaves, when you were all clearly OUT OF YOUR BOXES ON ACID WHEN YOU WROTE THE SONG? Love it. A real highlight.
83 points.

5. Latvia – The War is Not Over – Valters & Kaža.

After a rollicking first four songs, the pace slows right down for this gently strummed soft-rocker, performed by a couple of young men who have been playing music together since the age of two. Its closest antecedent is 2000’s winning song for the Olsen Brothers, Fly On The Wings Of Love (before it was turned into a helium-voiced Dance Anthem, that is), and the performers in question are even known in their native country as “the young Olsen Brothers”.

So, will this come as a welcome gimmick-free respite from all the back-flips and banging grannies and arriba-oompah-ing and general arsing around? Not a bit of it! Because Valters & Kaža have pledged to perform the song in sign language, so that everyone can understand its “universal message”. Which would be fine IF THE SONG ACTUALLY MEANT ANYTHING, instead of just being a sequence of random platitudes strung together to no discernible purpose. (There is also a cheap jibe to be made about the hearing-impaired being a natural constituency for Eurovision, but I shall refrain from making it.)
44 points.

6. Monaco – Tout de Moi – Lise Darly.

Having stayed away from the contest for twenty-four consecutive years, Monaco seem to be labouring under the delusion that there will still be a full orchestra in attendance on the night, just as there was in their glory days. (Five top 5 placings in eight years during the 1970s; not bad for such a tiny principality.) However, with the house orchestra having vanished for good after Birmingham 1998, Lise Darly will have instead to rely on pre-recorded playback for this admittedly stirring ballad, whose arrangement – full of pleasing rococo curls and neo-classical flourishes – will have a notably lessened impact as a result. Which is a shame, as – in musical if not in performance terms – this is the most accomplished ballad of the night.
73 points.

7. Israel – Hasheket Shenish’ar (The Silence That Remains) – Shiri Maymon.

…although this lovely effort from Israel, which may suffer by comparison in the draw, does come close to surpassing it. Indeed, Shiri’s impassioned vocal performance clearly outstrips Lise’s, with only a certain old-fashioned staidness of approach letting the song down. However, such admirable class and restraint in the ballad stakes will all be forgotten about in two songs’ time, as… well, you’ll see soon enough. But first, get the amyl out…
72 points.

8. Belarus – Love Me Tonight – Angelica Agurbash.

…as it’s Big Fat Gay Disco Anthem Time! Woo! Tops off! Podiums ahoy! Now, time was when stuff like this would be packing out the Top Five – but times have moved on, as the dismal failure of Xandee’s One Life in 2004 all too clearly demonstrated, and so I fear that Angelica will be struggling for promotion with this one.

I also suspect that 35-year old Angelica (“a woman who never hides her age”) might be a little more sensitive about such matters than her press people would have you believe. Take this quote, for instance. “The most important element of beauty is your inner world. Beauty comes from within. My face is a mirror of my soul. When bad feelings control me, I turn plain, wrinkles appear, the lines on my face become sharper. When I feel this way there’s no make-up in the world that can help me out.” Come on, Western Europe! Never mind all that trendy Make Poverty History nonsense! We need airlifts of top-grade cosmetic treatments to Belarus NOW!
67 points.

9. Netherlands – My Impossible Dream – Glennis Grace.

Lise from Monaco? Shiri from Israel? Over here please. Lovely ballads, both of you – but you may as well pack up and go home now, because here comes The Terminator. Now, with a name like Glennis Grace, you might be expecting some washed-up Dorothy Squires impersonator from what remains of the Northern club circuit. Instead, what you get is a full-on, industrial-strength, Grade A Diva Deluxe, of the Whitney Houston school, with one hell of a set of pipes on her, a precision-tooled “striving through the wind and the rain to MAKE IT ON MY OWN” belter of a song to match, Big Interpretive Arm Movements by the truckload, and a concluding Triumphant Backwards Head Fling to die for. (“Yes! I made it through to the end of the three minutes! My struggle is complete!”) She’s gonna walk this round, or I’m a Belgian.
58 points. (Because, after all that, I don’t actually care for it much.)

10. Iceland – If I Had Your Love – Selma.

Another abiding Eurovision tradition: The Fan Fave That Flops. Happens every year, and mostly to over-ambitious, slightly worthy numbers that score high on “impressive”, but low on “lovable”. And so it is with Selma, who came second in 1999 with a lot of people’s Favourite Eurovision Entry Ever, the admittedly mighty “All Out Of Luck”, and who is now being hailed as this year’s home-coming queen. However, all the leading positions in all the online fan polls in the world still won’t help her on the night, as If I Had Your Love is – whisper it if you dare – actually not all that good. Taking Britney’s Toxic as its starting point, this is all intricate Eastern strings, tightly orchestrated swoops and stabs, and impossibly complex stop-start polyrhythms – but for all of this sound and fury, it never quite knows what it wants to be. Just bloody well stay the same for more than five seconds, can’t you? What is this, Squarepusher?
60 points.

11. Belgium – Le Grand Soir – Nuno Resende.

I received a registered item in the post the other week. Well, not the actual item itself – come on, when does that ever happen? – but one of those dreaded little “while you were out” cards, full of supposedly helpful advice that is actually of no practical use whatsoever. There was, as usual, only one solution: an early morning drive out to the sorting office at the edge of town, through the suburban rush hour traffic, with K muttering and cursing at the wheel.

“This is SO DEPRESSING!”, he wailed. “I HATE having to drive through these bleak estates!”

We spend our lives, as you may have gathered, in something of a city centre/country cottage Luxury Bubble, from which we rarely have cause to emerge.

Twenty minutes later, we found ourselves at the depot. Five minutes after that, I was back in the car for the twenty minute drive back, tearing open the registered package.

“Come on then. What is it?”

I couldn’t speak for laughing.

“You’ll be so – SPLUTTER – glad you – SNORT – made this trip – BWAHAHAHA OMIGOD OMIGOD.”

“I shan’t be amused, you know. But you might as tell me, since we’ve COME ALL THIS WAY.”

“It’s a CD single of the – WHEEZE – Belgian entry for this year’s – GASP – Eurovision Song Contest! Shall I put it on? YES! I’m BLOODY WELL PUTTING IT ON!”

“Mike. I dare say that in other circumstances I might be capable of finding this funny. But this is not the time and this is not the… oh Jesus, it’s even worse than I thought.”

First toilet break of the night, this one. Big overblown soggy ballady thing, which gloops along at a funereal pace. But you’ll have to be quick, though – the next one’s a little cracker.
24 points.

(Many thanks for the CD anyway, Ïan. Sorry it won’t be Brussels 2006, though. Zed, have you heard this?)

Stylus UK Singles Jukebox – Ooh, I Didn’t Know The Eels Were Fun!

A day late due to “unavoidable technical difficulties” at their end, this week’s column sees me spouting forth on new releases from Oasis (a dissenting view), Turin Brakes (twiddle-dee-dee), Jennifer Lopez ft Fat Joe (a great sample overrides all other concerns), Black Eyed Peas (don’t phuck with my funk), Rob Thomas (it’s happy hour at Hooters!), Hot Hot Heat (are skinny ties the “bonce-boppers” of 2005?), Our Javine (formerly Poor Javine), New Order ft Ana Matronic (they have DOWNLOADED MY BRAIN!), Mylo (a little “prose-poetry” moment, for those of you who miss that sort of stuff round here), Stevie Wonder feat. En Vogue & Prince (oh, it’s a PUN – I missed that), Trick Daddy ft Ludacris (more dubious sex/confectionary metaphors) and Antony & The Johnsons (wrong choice of single, but swoonsome all the same).

Instant quiz! See if you can spot the two I wrote when I was a bit drunk, after the third consecutive “oh, just a quick one then” early evening session in the village pub with the usual suspects.

With seventeen – SEVENTEEN! – singles to review last week, I managed to knock out fourteen, before expiring from the effort of having to find fresh ways of saying “quite nice but nothing special”. As two of the singles were then dropped from the column altogether, I have no qualms in making their reviews available here.

As usual, I’ve also added all of this week’s reviews to my rolling archive (for those “show me a sample of your work” moments).

So Many Times – Gadjo (5)

Summery, uplifting vocal house for the smart-casual set, with Latin-influenced piano and percussion, that will probably find its way onto one of those Hed Kandi compilations before too long. Pleasant enough, but nothing that Masters At Work weren’t doing ten times better ten years ago.

Owner Of A Lonely Heart – Max Graham vs Yes (6)

Mmph, I’m calming down about this a bit now. Not quite the sacrilege which it first seemed to be, this is a reasonably sympathetic grafting of a rhythm track onto Yes’s Trevor Horn-produced 1983 hit, which you sense has been done by someone with some modicum of respect for the original. (Indeed, Graham has been quoted as saying that “Owner Of A Lonely Heart” is his favourite track of all time, hence this “tribute”.) There’s not much more to it other than some looping of the main guitar riff, which fits right into the Deep Dish/Bodyrockers idiom of the day, and a couple of extended bridge/breakdown sections. Actually, it’s the first of these two breakdowns which I take exception to: building the tension up and up and up, leading you to think that something really exciting is going to happen, and then… oh, it’s the second verse. Bit of a waste, really.

Coming up in a few days’ time: another collaborative panel-based capsule review project thingy, whose identity I am not yet at liberty to divulge. However, I can exclusively reveal that it involves Belgians.

That brush with proper old-fashioned print media, then.

If you’re able to pick up a copy of this week’s Time Out magazine (London edition), then you’ll find my previews for this year’s Eurovision on page 122. The magazine is available from tomorrow (Wednesday).

However, Troubled Diva wouldn’t be Troubled Diva without a full, unexpurgated, mercilessly detailed set of song-by-song previews on this site as well. Expect the first batch later today.

Disconnected randomness.

1. From a position of almost zero knowledge on Monday morning, I now know absolutely everything there is to know about this year’s Eurovision song contest. Go on, test me.

2. The trouble with “topical” blogging is that the content starts dating from the moment you press the Publish button. Those two General Election posts below, for instance. So “relevant” for, ooh, about two or three hours… so “yeah, we know already” for ever after. I guess that’s one of the reasons why I don’t do more of it.

3. The University Of Warwick campus looks really attractive at night. Well lit, with good strong architectural shapes, intelligently laid out, and with just enough people traversing the main walkways to give it the appearance of an artist’s impression come to life. All this and a progressive blogging policy, and a good arts centre… it was enough to make K and me fantasise about rejoining academia.

4. Pity about the boring Lhasa concert at the aforementioned Arts Centre, though. Far too neat and pretty and polite for my liking – and it’s not even as if I have a particular aversion to “polite” music in the first place. I didn’t feel that she was a natural performer; she looked slightly awkward and self-conscious, singing as much to herself as she was to us, and never really reaching out and making a connection. Nevertheless, she was rapturously received, so maybe it was just us.

5. What with these Stylus reviews and, um, that other thing (of which more in good time), I’m finding that I’m really enjoying writing about actual stuff, in a more focussed, disciplined way, rather than endlessly wittering on about myself in a pseudo-conversationally “bloggy” fashion. I think Tom Coates wrote about this once, a couple of years ago. I couldn’t relate to it at all at the time, but now I find I can. Interesting.

6. Nevertheless, I’m going to revert to a more or less daily service again, having enjoyed my semi-break. Well, it’s that time of the year after all, isn’t it?

Stylus UK singles jukebox: Mmm. Music.

In this week’s column, you’ll find my thoughts on new releases by System Of A Down (nu-metal but GOOD, honest), Cliff Richard (not what you might expect), Juliette Lewis & The Licks (every bit as bad as you might expect), Gorillaz (no, I don’t get them either), Kelly “there has always been an Electroclash element to my music” Osbourne, Doves (soaring epic glacial shards of sound etc etc), The Futureheads (the two chord killer riff is BACK), Lemon Jelly (“Mummy I’ve cut my finger MAKE IT BETTER”), The Game ft 50 Cent (wasting a perfectly good classic soul sample), Hall & Oates (cover version cabaret but I DON’T CARE), and Praise Cats ft Andrea Love (Oh God it’s THIS one, pass the poppers, hands in the air etc etc).

These reviews, plus a few more (mostly from last week’s column), have been added to my review archive, where you’ll find them highlighted in bold at the top of the page.

Coming soon-ish on the music journalism front, if all goes according to plan: my first bashful excursion into the world of Proper Legit Print Media. But let’s not jinx it by talking about it just yet. (No surprises for guessing the subject matter, though. Clue: think seasonal. And international.)

General Election 05: half-remembered fragments from a long, long night.

1. The marked discrepancy – at least in the early stages – between the running totals of declared results on the BBC1 and ITV coverage (a.k.a. Dimbleby vs Dimbleby). Where BBC1 were showing just 4 results, ITV had 11. My first thought was that there had been some sort of catastrophic network crash at the BBC. Strike one to ITV! Or at least until ITV ‘fessed up to screening the results in advance of the official returning officers’ declarations, in a rather futile bid to be “first with all the results”. But what’s the use of bare results, when you can’t analyse the percentages and swings to buggery and beyond? Strike one to Good Old Auntie Beeb! My restless knob-twiddling dropped off sharply from that point onwards.

2. Recognising one of the Lib Dem candidates in Birmingham from a Pride event in the late 1990s, when Chig had introduced us. What, you thought I’d let an occasion of this magnitude pass by without at least one pathetic name-drop?

3. Forgetting that it was Chig’s birthday – as well as Tony Blair’s, for that matter. Full marks to Blair for never once bleating “But it’s my BIRTHDAY!” when things were looking rough. I could never have managed such self-restraint.

4. A grim-faced Blair looking as uncomfortable and upset as I’ve ever seen him, forced to stand at the back and listen while the defeated anti-war candidate Reg Keys made his excellent speech at Sedgefield, landing punch after humiliating punch. In fact, Blair looked dangerously close to crying at one point: blinking furiously and swallowing hard. No triumphalism here, thank God.

5. Stephen Twigg and his tellingly over-expressive facial expressions Part Two, as history came full circle and the Portillo-usurper became usurped himself. A little touch of Schadenfreude in the night.

6. The huge great creamy dollop of Schadenfreude which followed a couple of hours later, when that insufferable orange-skinned oaf Robert Kilroy-Silk received his long-overdue come-uppance at the hands of the good people of Erewash, polling a miserable 3,000 votes and coming fourth.

7. The black comedy that ensued when that other, rather more successful, insufferable orange-skinned oaf George Galloway steamed to a graceless victory in Bethnal and Bow – and instead of thanking the returning officer, promptly accused him of corruption. How I wish I had stayed up a little longer for Galloway’s encounter with Paxman, which would have been the icing on the black comedy cake.

8. The extraordinarily low profile kept by Michael Howard, who didn’t show his face until around 4 a.m. (My tip for the leadership succession: David Cameron. You read it here first.) That Sandra Howard really is radiantly beautiful, isn’t she? I think she might have to be a candidate for the “mature” section in my Kissing Forest.

9. And while we’re on the subject of unfortunate crushes: Alastair (sigh) Campbell. Again. You just SO would. (All that barely repressed passion, just bursting to come out. Come on, it can’t just be me, surely?)

10. Future media star in the making: Adam Afriyie, the first ever black Conservative MP, who displayed a delightfully nonchalant sang froid in the face of his first ever encounter with Paxman, even making his interviewer wait while he finished his glass of water. Now, that’s style.

11. Being able to pause Sky Plus whenever I went to the loo, kettle or fridge, then fast-forwarding through all the silly Peter Snow bits to catch up again. (Who did those animated graphics of the three party leaders walking up Downing Street, anyway? Were they on DRUGS?)

12. The delight of being proved wrong, as my cautious prediction of a Labour majority of 109 fell way above the eventual total of 66. If this doesn’t curtail some of Blair’s worst presidential excesses, then we’ll just have to get rid of him sooner rather than later.

That inevitable General Election post, then.

Rather charmingly, our local polling station is also the 13th century gatehouse to Nottingham Castle, which somehow survived the demolition of the original castle in the 17th century. This has the effect of making voting a rather pleasant process, in which I feel benignly connected to some sort of unbroken historical tradition. The process is made more pleasant still by the satisfaction of a) knowing that I’m voting for the right candidate and b) feeling more or less certain that he will retain his seat.

Note the use of the word “candidate”, not “party”. For although the cross has been placed in the Labour box as usual, the vote this time has been firmly for Alan Simpson – an unreconstructed Old Labour rebel with a voting record to match – rather than that Blair fellow or his gang of cronies. Because when push comes to shove, it’s the quality of the candidate which matters to me the most – and Simpson has impressed me in the past with his unspun sincerity, firm principles, and boundless passion for politics. There is even a liberal Tory of my acquaintance who votes for Simpson, despite disagreeing with him on many/most issues, because he feels that “we need people like that in Parliament”.

Which in turn makes me wonder whether there would be circumstances in which I might ever vote Conservative; and I suppose the answer would be “just possibly”. If an independently minded Ken Clarke/Alan Duncan/Richard Ottaway/Boris Johnson figure were up against a Charles Clarke, an Alan Milburn, a David Blunkett, or some ghastly, faceless, vapid, careerist, obedient lobby-fodder twerp, then I might find it a perfectly easy decision to make.

But what of the Lib Dems? The great surprise of this election (and let’s face it, surprises have been disappointingly thin on the ground) has been the discovery that I now agree with the Liberal Democrats on far more policies than any other party. And I’m not the only one; how many of you have completed one of those handy online survey thingies, and discovered that you too have turned yellow in the night? But how many of you have then thought: nah, wasted vote innit, and voted tactically for Labour in order to keep the Tories out?

One the one hand: keeping the Tories out has to be my prime consideration. Don’t listen to those who say that “they’re all the same”; bollocks they are. Howard isn’t fit to form a government, and his party is guilty of jumping on any small-minded, scare-mongering, single-issue bandwagon that comes its way. Most – yes, most – Conservative policies, such as they are, scare the living shit out of me. It simply cannot come to pass.

Nevertheless, I’d like to think that I would never vote tactically for a second-best party. The basic concept of tactical voting fundamentally annoys me, as does all the surrounding talk of “wasted votes”. If everyone actually voted for what they believed in – or at least favoured the most from the choices on offer – then maybe we’d have a Liberal Democrat government tomorrow. And on balance – and despite the odd lunatic policy like abolishing the Department For Trade And Industry – I would welcome that. (Tax and spend? Yeah, bring it on. And yes, I am well aware of the contradiction with my own material situation. If it was all right for me twenty years ago when I was broke, then it’s all right for me now.)

Four more years of Labour, though? Despite everything, and whilst acknowledging most of my old mate Chig’s points in his strongly worded rationale for not voting Labour, I can still just about live with that. Because of the economic stability, and a certain degree of improvement in certain public services (most notably the NHS, if personal experience is anything to go by), and all the gay stuff of course: equal age of consent, partnership rights, immigration rights, anti-discrimination legislation, repeal of Section 28. I won’t be cheering as Blair rides back into Number Ten, but I won’t be weeping either. Imperfect world, shades of grey, yadda yadda.

F***ing evil lying tossers over Iraq, mind you. To say nothing of detention without trial, and undermining of the legal system in general, and ID cards… dangerous, disturbing stuff. The sheer arrogance of it all, apart from anything else. So what I’ll really be cheering for tonight is a dramatically reduced majority. Preferably to the benefit of the Lib Dems, but I guess I can also live with the odd Tory gain here and there. The much vaunted “bloody nose” effect – if it causes Blair to curb some of his wilder excesses in the next parliament, then we’ll be all the better off for it.

Let’s make a prediction, then. The current overall Labour majority is 161. Although the optimist in me hopes for a larger reduction, the realist in me predicts a new majority of 109. And what say you?

In order to assess the accuracy of my prediction, I will – of course – be staying up super-late tonight, glued as ever to the whole gloriously batty spectacle, revelling in the statistics, cheering and jeering until the beer runs out. Care to join me? Come on, take the morning off work tomorrow. Or ring in sick. It’s your duty as an Active Citizen, or something.

(Not that I’ll be doing any live blogging, mind you. Heavens above, no. Learnt that lesson with the slow descent into drunken bitch-queen madness that was last year’s “live commentary” on the Eurovision semi-finals. But if you are, then good luck to you.)