ESC Insight’s Musical Moments Of 2016: Part One Written by Ewan Spence on December 29, 2016 | 3 Comments

Ewan Spence

‘Good Enough’, by Annia Milán & Kimmo Blom (UMK 2016)

Really, was anyone in doubt that this was going to be my first pick?

Here’s the thing. If you are going to take an utterly traditional structure that has been seen countless times at the Song Contest (in this case the power ballad / duet), you have to push every single element right up to the limit (and don’t go over).

The composition and instrumentation brings in enough light and shade to hang the rest of the emotions on and creates three minutes of musical sawtooth. Your performers need to have a connection on stage with each other and the audience. They need the chops to sing it live and the skill to not oversing the moments. And then there needs to be something in the visuals.

Which is what seals the deal for me. From the genuinely cinematic video filmed by UMK that manages to be a closed loop, to a simple stage show where the answer really is is ‘it was done with mirrors’, the visuals add another layer of depth and complexity to what many people threw away as a bit of fluff. This is the sort of package the modern Eurovision Song Contest demands.

‘Un Giorno Mi Dirai’, by Stadio (Winners: Sanremo 2016)

Its rock. It’s soft rock. It’s soft Italian rock. It’s soft Italian rock that was given the valedictory spot at Sanremo 2016 so everyone could remember their partner in music Lucio Dalla. That was meant to be the story.

Instead, a tiny spark caught some tinder. They were in the Campioni, they were valid contenders. Just because nobody expected them to win, didn’t mean they couldn’t. With that, it started. The quiet whisperings. The growing nods. The power of belief. It was an impossible dream that slowly built up momentum and power before a rapturous ending.

In retrospect, ‘Un Giorno Mi Dirai‘ matches Stadio’s Sanremo adventure perfectly. It starts out with a delicate guitar and husky vocals. It builds up layers of complexity, drawing everyone in. It picks up the pace and accelerates. It generates a feeling of inevitable happiness. And then the band blows the top of the amplifier stacks, turns away from the audience, and performs the musical mic drop of the year.

Bellisimo!

Sharleen Wright

‘Sound of Silence’, by Dami Im

I’ll have to be honest – I really didn’t think Dami had much of a chance.

My own predictions and presumptions proved utterly incorrect; I had under-rated her and Europe, whom I predicted wouldn’t get her bumbling personality in PR, her inability to look natural in choreography and an underlying state of racism and also anti-Aussie feeling with the contest.

It hit home come the first semi final; Dami is something special and the song and staging was nothing short of perfect. For a brief moment I thought Australia could actually win.

But Dami did win – this entry saved her career locally (which went silent for a year prior and her contract was seemingly being seen out with a ‘cheap for the record label’ album of Carpenters covers) and she is now the toast of the whole country. She’s sold out twi Australian tours, has performed at all our biggest events (from our Melbourne Cup to our Christmas Carols), and best of all, she actually turned Eurovision from a joke in Australia to something of a sense of serious pride.

So, thank you Dami. You now make at least one Aussie smile everytime the song is played, and I am so happy that I hold the role of President of our local Eurovision fanclub at this special time.

‘Whats The Pressure’, by Laura Tesoro

Normally my second spot on the list is reserved for something relating to the amazing country of Latvia. Indeed, my own personal favourite going into the contest was Justs’ song, which I had picked up prior to its actual national selection entry announcement whilst living in Riga for 6-months to study. I had even promised to get the Latvian ‘heart’ tattooed should it have come top 5.

Alas, going back to my actual ‘plays’ one song actually overtook it, and that is Belgiums’ entry.
Even at the start of 2016 whilst Ewan was sitting in the Belgian studio actually judging the entries, I had to hold back my own feelings as he regaled his thoughts. Needless to say, I had it top of my list for the national final.., and Ewan didn’t. Its Queen soundalike riff, its hooky chorus, the ability to sound like so many radio hits; I was willing to overlook the fact that nobody was wearing socks and Laura being slightly out of breath with the choreo. It’s a truly joyous song; youthful but also steeped in nostalgia.

I knew as soon as it racked up the points at the Australian Preview Party that I wasn’t alone in loving this. And sure enough, it got Australias’ douze points come the Eurovision final.

In a time of a local perspective change on the contest, getting the top score from Australia has meant the song has enjoyed continued play on television and radio here. Laura may not have come close to winning Eurovision, but this little ditty at least won my heart.

Ellie Chalkley

‘Seis’ by Mick Pedaja (Eesti Laul 2016)

For me, one of the defining songs of 2016 was Seis by Mick Pedaja. Rapla’s finest provided a piece of music that changed what I believe you can achieve with the modern Contest. It is attention grabbing in its cosmic stillness. It slows your breathing and prompts you to listen hard. There’s no way I could imagine writing something like this and entering it in a competition for instantly appealing three minute pop songs. And yet.

It starts sparsely. There’s not much more than piano, vinyl crackles and Mick’s pure, mystical vocal for a minute and a half. Even if you understand Estonian (this song prompted me to try and learn and it turns out that your first non-Indo European language is tough) the lyrics are almost impenetrably gnomic. Is it about being on the point of a momentous decision? Is it about having a philosophical epiphany? Is it about the complications of love? It’s hard to say. It all adds to the intimate, mysterious quality to the song that never fails to uplift me.

Maybe it’s better that this song didn’t win Eesti Laul and stayed in the realms of ‘What if…’. I can’t really imagine how you’d place it in a semi-final running order. I certainly can’t imagine successfully sandwiching it between Loin d’Ici and Miracle. I can’t really imagine it qualifying. However, I can imagine the staging – filling a darkened, hushed Globen with incredible images of glowing, drifting nebulae, as Mick’s voice takes us all to a secret world of dizzying, chilling beauty.

‘Heartbeat’, by Justs (Latvia 2016)

I believe that Aminata Savadogo ought to be a huge international pop star and that Justs should have had a continent-wide smash hit with Heartbeat. Aminata’s songwriting combines a gift for massive pop choruses with almost melancholically futuristic production detail and a dancefloor sensibility. She’s already a star. In 2016, she was quite busy. As well as sending her second song to Eurovision, she graduated from her Economics & Management degree course, participated in Russia’s version of The Voice, released a rather good album and worked on songs for the 2017 Eurovision season. She really puts the work in and it’s beautiful to see her developing in her craft.

Now let’s talk about Justs. A doe-eyed, gorgeously cheekboned teen idol in a leather jacket with a huge, emotive voice that comes right out of his boots and seems to be wrenching him apart. He looks like he’s on the tipping point between being the kind of bad boy your mother wouldn’t approve of and being the sweetest first boyfriend you could ever have. And in Heartbeat he’s alone in a nightclub at 3am singing of his desolation at being rejected by you. How could you do this to Justs? You monster. You should take him back immediately.

Latvia have had a wonderful thing going with Aminata, even if Justs’ didn’t break the top 10. We know that she’s willing to shop her songs around for the 2017 season. Where next for our Baltic Queen?

John Lucas

‘Loin d’ici’, by Zoë

In recent-ish years, a term has slipped into the the Eurovision lexicon that grinds my gears more than any other. It has seven letters, it begins with ‘F’ and it’s used consistently to belittle songs that are deemed to have caught the attention of the ‘wrong sort’ of Eurovision fan.

I’ve explained the reasons why this term bugs me so much extensively in the past, and I won’t repeat myself here, but suffice to say, in the buildup to the 2016 Contest, Austria’s delightfully frothy francophone confection became a prime target for this kind of mean-spirited snobbery.

What a delight it was then, to see ‘Loin d’ici’ not only embraced with near religious fervour in the Stockholm Euroclub, but to have that affection reflected across the continent when the public votes came in. Sure, the juries kept Zoë out of the combined top ten in the finals – and would have left her languishing in the semis if they’d had their way, but for Austria – a country that failed to pick up a single televote the previous year – to finish 2nd in the first semi final and 8th in the final on public voting was not only a triumph, it was a vindication. The enormous cheer that rang through Globen Arena when her televote came in was easily my personal highlight of this year’s contest.

‘Himmel för två’, by Anna Book

Like all major TV shows, Melodifestivalen lives and dies by its ability to generate headlines in the local press. In hiring Schlager stalwart turned reality TV perennial Anna Book, Christer Bjorkman and co must have known they were bringing in an expert player of the media game. But even they might not have
known the delicious level of micro-drama that would unfold on the eve of Anna’s return to the contest that helped make her name more than thirty years previously.

At the time, Book’s eleventh-hour disqualification from the first semi final felt like a crushing humiliation for the singer. In light of the wave of public sympathy that followed – and the disastrous showings of her contemporaries Linda Bengtzing and After Dark in subsequent semis – it looks like the best thing that could possibly have happened to her. Ace Wilder and Robin Bengtsson may have won tickets to the final that night, but it was Book who dominated the headlines for the entire weekend, shot to number one on the Swedish iTunes charts, and received a hero’s welcome from the crowd when she was allowed to perform her entry noncompetitively in the semi final.

As Melodifestivalen continues to evolve, the effervescent schlager on which it built its international reputation will inevitably have to evolve with it, and we’re increasingly seeing the performers of Book’s generation squeezed out in favour of younger, slicker, more radio-friendly artists. But for three minutes on that February evening, the Swedish public was united in affection for a tenacious diva and her dedication to glitter, glamour and a last-minute key change.

Readers, it fair warmed this old fanboy’s heart…

Roy Delaney (Eurovision Apocalypse)

‘Midnight Gold’, by The Young Georgian Lolitas (Georiga 2016)

Top of this year’s “It was never going to win, but we’re so glad it’s there” category, the YGL immediately drew comparisons and accusation of being a Britpop clone from people who couldn’t see past the guitars and the bass player’s sideburns. But there was a lot more too it than that. Although rooted deeply in the mid-90s, instead of Britpop’s post-Mod swagger, Midnight Gold conjoured up flavours of the dark rock’n’roll pop of Deus from Belgium, the spacy Mid-Western brainbursts of The Flaming Lips, and the incessant post-baggy beats of Scotland’s 18 Wheeler, all rolled together in paper made from unruly Georgian beats and G:son’s Swedopop bluster.

And then, when it came to the wigout bit near the end it suddenly turned into their gig. The lights went all epilepsy-inducing bonkers, the crowd began to bounce – completely against their will – and guitarist Levan crouched to the floor to pretend to get all twiddly with his pedals (which were reputedly comedy plastic models as a personal in joke to his serious muso mates). This wasn’t Blur, or Oasis, or heaven forbid, Shed 7, this was pure pastoral English country psychedelia, from the stable of Ride and Chapterhouse and even flipping Loop, all wrapped up on a Eurovision stage and looking gorgeous.

And as soon as it had arrived, the wigout was gone, and we slide into a final reprise and some near-the-knuckle corporate ad libs that I’m not sure the organisers noticed. The song itself was decent, but I’ll be yearning for an interlude as downright stampy as the Midnight Gold wigout for many years to come.

‘Uncle Tom’ by Mushu (A Dal 2016)

You don’t expect a song like this to come from Hungary. For a nation not noted for embracing racial harmony to fall for a charging blues punk song linking modern day work practices to American slavery was one thing – but to see that song sung by an androgynous young black guy strutting around like a peacock in elaborate garb and make up was a gloriously unexpected other.

People who know the lay of the land out there were telling me that as cracking a tune as it may have been, there was no way that a song like this would ever do well in A Dal. Old Kállay Saunders was one thing, but he was a bit of a beefcake and his mum was local. But a band fronted by a confident young lad like this was a completely different kettle of chips. But somehow this frantic young three-piece hauled their way to the final, with ever more incendiary performances, before being suddenly deserted by the jurors at the last hurdle – the same jurors who’d been dealing them some pretty high marks throughout.

The Hungarian process often uncovers some unexpected gems amongst it’s squeaky-clean showtunes, but I don’t remember one as deliberately provocative as this making such a good impression. If you’ve got a spare few minutes on YouTube, look up a few more of Mushu’s wares. This was their pop tune, I warn you!

Jasmin Bear (Eurovision By Jaz)

‘J’ai Cherché’ by Amir (France 2016)

Once upon a time, France couldn’t keep themselves out of Eurovision-winning territory if they tried. The last fifteen or so years, however, have seen them struggle for success – with the approach of pinballing from one musical style to the next rarely paying off.

Enter Voice alumnus Amir Haddad and the infectious, folk-pop piece of pure happiness that is ‘J’ai Cherché‘

From my very first listen of the song way back when (code for ‘I’ve forgotten’), I sensed it had something special – an irresistible, intangible je ne sais quoi – that would give it a fighting chance in the Stockholm contest against stiff competition. A victory in the pre-show OGAE fan poll (the country’s first) reinforced my feeling that France had found a way out of the basement of the Eurovision bottom five. Though I did also realise that my infatuation with the effervescent track, and the adorable Amir himself, could have tinted my glasses a nice shade of Biased Rose.

The proof, as always, was in the pudding. ‘J’ai Cherché’, capably performed and simply staged (avoiding the under-staging of Moustache and the over-staging of Echo), more or less spoke for itself in May. It didn’t say enough to trouble the top three or even the top five – a letdown based on the OGAE results, though not when you consider what finished above it – but by ending the evening in sixth place, it gave France their best result since 2002 and scored them a seat inside the top 10 for the first time in seven years. That achievement, combined with my continuing love for the song and singer – one that has extended to endless run-throughs of Amir’s latest album ‘Au Cœur De Moi’ – definitely makes this a musical moment I couldn’t fail to mention. I just hope France can follow Belgium’s 2015-2016 lead and ride a wave of success through to the conclusion of the Kyiv contest.

‘Human’ by Oscar Zia (Melodifestivalen 2016)

It’s one thing for a repeat national final offender to return with entries that are just as marvelous (or in many cases, mediocre) as their last. But what I really like to see is an artist who takes the time between attempts at getting to Eurovision to evolve, and to make a comeback that says ‘I have arrived’ without prompting replies of ‘Uh, not again!’ (Malta’s Deborah C tends to provoke that reaction in me every year). Oscar Zia is the 2016 season’s textbook example of that evolution, as far as I’m concerned.

After his High School Musical/Barack Obama tribute Yes We Can finished eighth out of ten in the 2014 Melodifestivalen final, Oscar lined up something completely different – and totally unexpected – for his third crack at the comp (his first being a backup gig for Behrang Miri in 2013). The edgy, atmospheric power ballad Human was a departure from Yes We Can in every possible sense, aside from the fact that it was still Oscar standing on the stage. What made the entry even more epic was the Academy Award-worthy (what else does someone named Oscar deserve?) cinematography, consisting of abrupt camera cuts; a grungy, metallic lighting and colour scheme; and background imagery of storm clouds that danced to the song’s beat. Throw in a singer who may still have been the same teenager from 2014, but who had matured into a 2016-style Danny Zuko, and you’ve got a package that would have represented Sweden in Stockholm – had Melfest’s international juries monopolised the scoring.

‘Human’, in all its glory and with all its raw power, had a lasting effect on me, and I still can’t help wondering what would have happened if it had pipped Frans’ If I Were Sorry at the post. I’m not saying we’d be staring down the barrel of a second Swedish Eurovision on the trot, but I do think this song and the way it was presented would have been a unique addition to the contest this year. If Oscar continues on his path of leveling up, there’s no reason why he couldn’t make another, possibly even more successful, and very välkommen Melfest comeback in 2018.

John Egan

‘I’ve Been Waiting for This Night’, by Donny Montell

Some Eurovision tracks lose my attention in the first 15 seconds – like ‘Love is Blind‘ did back in 2012. I routinely skipped it on my iPhone as the latest iteration of the archetypal fanwankish schlagerplotz disco stomper that would like up the Euroclub as it sinks like a stone in its semi-final. Then our man Donatas Montvydas did a one-handed handstand, proved his hips had no bones, and sang note perfect, verily leaping out of my television shrieking “vote for me—I’m awesome!” In 2012: he grabbed the bronze medal in his semi-final and managed a top 15 result from a poor draw. A massive achievement, since only one Lithuanian entry’s ever cracked the top 10.

When Donny released an exceedingly polished preview video for ‘I’ve Been Waiting for This Night‘, his 2016 entry (well before the Lithuanian national selection started), it was clear he wanted to do better than top 15. His first challenge was the labyrinthine Lithuanian national selection: changing rules, multiple appearances, different categories of entries, and a fair number of talented artists who’d not yet had a crack at the Contest. In the end, Donny would not be denied and he was off to Stockholm.

In his 2016 semi-final, ‘I’ve Been Waiting for This Night’ did a bit worse than ‘Love is Blind’ (4th rather than 3rd), but on Saturday night Lithuania got only its second ever Top 10 In The Grand Final. Scrutinise his performance and you can see why. First, the camera loves this guy—even a bad perm couldn’t detract from the eyes, the cheekbone, the freakish glow this man possesses on telly. Second, listen to Donny’s vocal: he sounds big, even when he’s not belting out. Third, the staging is nearly perfect: the use of the floor features, the overheads, the camera shots. Finally, look at how he never gets lost on that massive stage. Donatas, in fact, owns the stage for his three minutes …something many more famous singers have never managed to do. He’s playing to the audience of one, each viewer at home.

‘Color of Your Life’, by Michał Szpak

The 2016 Polish national final was supposed to be an epic battle between two divas. Longtime Eurovision fans had the long awaited return of Edyta Gorniak, whose debut 1994 entry ‘To Nie Ja’ (1994) remains Poland’s most successful ever. For the younger generation, Margaret had a hip, happening Rihanna-esque track prior to the live final. Edyta’s Grateful was understated and well suited for her voice. Margaret’s ‘Cool Me Down’ was let down by her inability to deliver it live. When it was time for the results, hearing Edyta’s name first meant Margaret had triumphed, right? Except…when Margaret was named she seemed rather glum. Whilst for many following Krajowe Eliminacje 2016 were focused on pedigree (Edyta) versus current (Margaret), few noticed a third diva in the race: Michał Szpak in all his queer fabulosity.

So I watched the clip, and yes, Michał delivers the vocal. But the song was pop schlager and more than a bit naff. Doubtless his long-haired, black nailed, rock drag look wouldn’t translate to the rest of Europe, right? Michał’s talent show pedigree revealed itself bigtime in Stockholm: he never missed the camera, connected with the viewers, and sold a €50 song for €5,000 and a top three televote score on the night when it counted most. Thank goodness for the new scoring system making televote and jury scores equal.

Samantha Ross

‘If Love Was A Crime’, by Poli Genova (Bulgaria 2016)

Since their Eurovision debut in 2005, the rate of qualification for Bulgaria was a painful 11%, lower than almost any other currently participating country; only the Czech’s non-advancement rate beat them to the bottom of the leaderboard. This was despite a number of memorable and beloved performances, from Sofi Marinova’s multilingual chalga fantasy “Love Unlimited” to Deep Zone and Balthazar’s hypnotic “DJ, Take Me Away” to Poli Genova’s pop-rock anthem, “Na Inat”. It seemed that whatever BNT sent, nothing would capture the magic (and scoreboard placement) of 2007’s “Voda”, and the nation took two years off to regroup.

One could argue that it took the voice of little Krisia Todorova, the elfin silver medalist from Junior Eurovision 2014, to light a fire under the broadcaster again. Following massive television ratings at home, the network took JESC hosting duties on the following year with aplomb, and brought Poli back into the EBU bubble by having her host the event. It was only a matter of time before tongues started to wag about Bulgaria’s potential return to the grown-up contest, which was confirmed less than a week after Junior Eurovision concluded.

When Poli’s ‘If Love Was a Crime’ was finally unleashed on the public in late March, fans knew there was something special going on. It was universal both in style and message, but distinctly Bulgarian at the same time. It was catchy, charming, and just a little bit quirky, due in no small part to Poli herself. She came across like the coolest kid in your high school class: the one who had an unapologetically offbeat sense of style and made friends with everyone instantaneously. With her adorkable dance moves, light-up costume, and fabulous vocals, it was no shock to see her qualify for Saturday night…

…but when ‘If Love Was a Crime‘ shot up the scoreboard on the night of the Final, leaving betting favorites like France and Spain in the dust and giving Bulgaria its highest placement ever, the joy and relief were palpable. After so many years of missing out, Bulgaria was truly back.

‘Immortality’, by Cartoon featuring Kristel Aaslaid (Eesti Laul 2016)

After sixty years of innovation, one of the major questions that lingers around Eurovision is “what’s next”? From live international broadcasts in living color to projected holograms and massive LED screens, our beloved contest keeps pushing the envelope, and there’s always room to grow. But sometimes, growth and change comes with questions that need to be addressed. One of the standout tracks in this year’s Eesti Laul was ‘Immortality’, a soaring electropop track co-written by well-known Estonian performers Iiris Vesik and Kerli (who we’ll see at Eesti Laul this year), among others.

While ‘Immortality’ might not have been as spectacular live as it was in studio, its visual presentation was what made it stand out. Vocalist Kristel Aaslaid was barely seen on screen, instead represented by an animation of a girl that evolved from pencil to three-dimensional CGI. About halfway through the song, Kristel was briefly seen, dressed in motion-capture sensors, and it became clear what the gimmick was. Near the climax of the song, Kristel emerged from behind the stage’s backdrop, her moves seemingly synchronized with her avatar.

It used to cause a minor hubbub when backing singers were hidden from view at Eurovision, and the idea of bringing in pre-recorded supporting vocals, Melodifestivalen-style, raises more than a few hackles among Song Contest fans. But until now, no act has flirted with the idea of hiding an entry’s lead vocalist to this extent. What would have happened if ‘Immortality’ made it to Stockholm? Would actual, real-time motion capture be a permitted substitute for a living, breathing performer on stage? What about pre-recorded animation? Where’s the line between songs like ‘Immortality’, a hypothetical entry by an animated band like Gorillaz, and a presentation by a completely artificial artist, such as the Japanese vocaloid Hatsune Miku?

These aren’t easy questions to answer, but it may become more pressing to answer them in the near future. As technology evolves, and nations try to push for something innovative in their staging, future Eurovision fans may look at ‘Immortality’ as a watershed moment in the Contest’s history.

We’re Not Finished!

ESC Insight is not just the core team of writers, we have a huge number of ‘friends of the parish’ who contribute throughout the year, from Juke Box Juries and daily podcasts to articles and opinions. Want to know what they thought of the year of music? Read part two of ESC Insight’s Musical Moments Of 2016… tomorrow!