A Plethora of Excess

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.