Eurovision is an overblown spectacle, no other word for it. Often featuring musical acts with very little or no talent. As with any judged competition, the results depend not on what the educated critic thinks but on how the judges are manipulated. In this case, curiously, the audience is among the judges. Each participating country awards points based on what they liked in the presentation from other countries. But cannot televote for their own entrant. And of course, as hoi polloi cannot be trusted, there is a professional jury. Which, just like in figure skating or ballroom dancing, can also be swayed, the positions on the panel gained not from necessary discernment or ability to see/hear creativity but connections. Hence the Latin phrase “de gustibus non est disputandum”, roughly translated in Estonian as “maitse üle ei saa vaielda”, or in English: “there is no accounting for tastes.” The lean one actually prefers the Gallic shrug “à chacun son goût,” which applies when picking one razzle-dazzle song over another one.
The contest was, one presumes, at one time an indicator of talent, a springboard to a recording contract if one had not yet been gained, or a path to global success. The example of ABBA is presented often.
Because, quite truthfully, the majority of the songs performed at Eurovision should not be there in the first place. The contest was, one presumes, at one time an indicator of talent, a springboard to a recording contract if one had not yet been gained, or a path to global success. The example of ABBA is presented often. And that Swedish quartet is underrated, underappreciated. Some of their hits are more than earworms. Benny Andersson as the primary composer had and has a way with a riff; Björn Ulvaeus as the lyricist was usually able to keep away from the truly banal. I mean, c’mon: “Knowing Me, Knowing You”…? But it was the presence of the singing vixens (okay, not politically correct, but Agnetha Fältskog and Anni-Frid Lyngstad were more than eye candy) that sold records.
I should add, living in the past, the mastodon still struggles with the blatant sexism of girl bands. And boy bands, for that matter. While the urge to procreate is human, using sexual appeal to sell just about anything is far too prevalent. Not that a lovely smile might not change a purchaser’s mind. But sex does not a good song make.
Still, the lean machine needs to get to Estonia’s latest Eurovision entry. The winner of this year’s Eesti Laul was Vanilla Ninja. The gracile guy was astounded that this band is still around. And that they are not representing another country. For those with elephantine memories, the original band represented Switzerland with “Cool Vibes” at the 2005 Eurovision. The song was not much then, and still is not.
(As an aside, what is it with that neutral home of yodelers, chocolatiers, timepiece makers, and tax evaders? Las Vegas’ own—I mean, Canada’s own—Céline Dion actually won Eurovision for Switzerland in 1988 with “Ne partez pas sans moi” [“Don’t Leave Without Me”]. Actually one of Dion’s better numbers, but alas, that is not saying much.)
Balbiino, a leading frozen foods producer back home, sells approximately two million units of Vanilla Ninja ice cream yearly. Out of a total of 814 tonnes of ice cream in a country of 1.3 million.
Girl bands often have fan clubs, and are huge into marketing. Beyond the usual t-shirts. Remember all the youth in Spice Girls accoutrements? The slimster rests his case. Vanilla Ninja did experience something along those lines as well; apparently the oh-so-twee trio is followed by VN-LINN, the International Vanilla Ninja Fanclub, which has members in forty-three countries. The mind boggles. But one coup stands out. Did you know that the most popular vanilla ice cream in Estonia is named after the trio? Balbiino, a leading frozen foods producer back home, sells approximately two million units of Vanilla Ninja ice cream yearly. Out of a total of 814 tonnes of ice cream in a country of 1.3 million. Take those numbers as you will.
But let’s get back to the number that matters. Vanilla Ninja’s entry this year, “Too Epic to Be True.” Check it out for yourself online. It follows all the usual Eurovision requirements. Insipid lyrics, not much of a tune, and heavy on the eurotümps beat. While not a Tommy Cash fan, give me “Espresso Macchiato” any time over this far too superficial effort. Don’t expect this song to be a contender.
The slimster has over the decades only purchased one CD as a result of Eurovision. The Irish-Norwegian duo Secret Garden (Fionnula Sherry and Rolf Løvland) won in 1995 with “Nocturne,” when, fittingly, the contest was held in Dublin. Sherry has a haunting voice, even though the song is mostly instrumental; and the Scandinavian flavour, with penny whistle and nyckelharpa combined with string orchestra and Sherry’s beautiful violin intermezzo, makes this pastoral piece stand out. A far cry from the usual pap served at Eurovision.
Forgive the personal bombast but Eurovision does not bring out the best from the splinter. The nicest thing he can think of about Estonia’s entry this year is that the trio’s name is appropriate. Then again, plain vanilla is still surprisingly not only Estonia’s but the world’s most popular ice cream flavour. Go figure.
Otepää Slim
