13 May 11 | Chad W. Post

As anyone with a heightened sense of irony already knows, tomorrow the 2011 Eurovision Song Contest Finals will take place. For the poor few out there who aren’t keyed into this annual event of epic nationalist absurdity, basically, this is Europe’s version of American Idol, but with even shittier songs (impossible, I know!), weirder costumes, and no Ryan Seacrest. Every year, each country gets to put up one song for the competition, and then over two-days of semi-finals, the final 25 countries are chosen to compete for Eurovision winner.

And by “winner,” I’m just going to point out that previous winners include ABBA and Celine Dion. That is all.

For more information, you can check out this Wikipedia entry, or the official site, or you could read some of Dubravka Ugresic’s pieces about this.

I really don’t give a shit about the voting rules or the crazy politics behind this event. What I am jacked about are the weird, disturbing videos and the fact that 90% of the entries sound like songs that I heard on easy rock stations back in the 80s while I was interning in offices. (And before anyone questions my elitists tendencies, yes, I realize that secretaries deserve music too.)

Anyway, I’ve gone through a ton of this year’s videos, and, since it’s officially summer—which you can tell, because the St. Louis Cardinals are in first place, kids are graduating and being told to seize the day, and I smell like bike sweat—it’s the perfect time to break out of all this “book” stuff and bring you some Euro culture in the form of questionable music videos.

First up is my prediction for the 2011 Eurovision winner. I don’t know about this song, or anything at all about this performer, but I like the breaking glass, and she’s pretty hot. And pretty hot—in a sophisticatedly sexy sort of way—is what brings together nations. Which, if I understand correctly, is the purpose of the Eurovision.

The other country that I think has a pretty good chance is Spain. Infused with that Spanish warmth and joy, this totally has a beat you can dance to. Which is also what I believe Euro culture is all about.

But back to that breaking glass motif for a moment . . . Enter Sweden, whose totally misguided take on NKOTBSB (and not to digress much, but WTF? the whole appeal of boy bands like the New Kids on the Block is that they’re slightly too old for the junior high girls who long after them, and just old enough to provide afternoon fantasies for mothers of these fans. Now that their in their late 30s and move with the stiffness of one too many nights at the bar, they’ve lost that certain something . . .) features both a waredrobe designed by a Euro-Midwestern Michael Jackson and more shattered glass. Apparently, becoming “Popular” is somehow tied to destruction. And yes, the opening lyrics really are “Stop, don’t say that it’s impossible / cause I know it’s possible.” (Have you caught the Eurovision fever yet?)

With The Sugarcubes, Sigur Ros, and Múm all hailing from Iceland, I had some high hopes for this enchanted island. But . . . well, it’s not that this song is bad, but Go Go Smear the Poison Ivy it’s not.

One thing that was very disappointing about yesterday’s semifinal was the total lack of appreciation for Belarus’s self-congratulatory “I Love Belarus” rocker. Seeing that most of these songs are from washed-up boy bands (I’m looking squarely at you, United Kingdom) or soft-rock ballads (really, France? Have some self-respect), it’s nice to see someone rock out just-a-little-bit, kind of like she’s Joan Jett, but a bit more angular . . . and about 10 years after Joan Jett sort of peaked . . . That said, I dare you—dare you!—to listen to this entire song without getting “I LOVE BELARUS!” jammed into your mind . . . (And once again with the lyrics: “I love Belarus / Got it deep inside” sort of sends a secondary meaning to the English-speaking world.)

One other eliminated band worth mentioning: Portugal. What happened to you, Portugal? I just can’t fathom what you were thinking when you sent this huge pile of crap to Dusseldorf to embarrass your country in front of the world. You have art, architecture, cathedrals, good wine, nice football, and this? Really? It’s as if these people just stumbled home from a bar around 8am and were all, “So, you wrote the Eurovision song, right?” “Wait no, I thought she . . .” “Do we at least have some ridiculous costumes that will distract everyone? Something that will invoke memories of godawful high school plays maybe?” “I like to dress like a plumber!”

Since this post is dripping in sarcasm and bad jokes, it’s probably best to end on something upbeat and life-affirming. Or, as acerbic intern Kaija put it, “a song that makes me want to gouge my eardrums.” Yes, Finland, it’s your turn to change the world through song and melody and lyrics like this:

When Peter is nine
his teacher tells him that this planet is dying,
that someone needs to put an end to it all
and so when Peter comes home
he tells his mom:

I’m going out in the world
to save our planet.
And I ain’t coming back
until she’s saved.
I’ll walk my way to see
the King and parliament.
If they don’t help
I’ll do it by myself.
I don’t wanna be
Da da dam, da da dam
da da da da da da da

Remember, the finals are tomorrow. Three pm East Coast time. And yes, you can watch it live online and share in the joy and irony. Just don’t forget to buy a few gallons of booze and to bring your snark.

tags:

Comments are disabled for this article.
....
Morse, My Deaf Friend
Morse, My Deaf Friend by Miloš Djurdjević
Reviewed by Vincent Francone

There’s little to say about a series of prose poems that willfully refuse to identify pronoun antecedents. Or perhaps there are a million things. The poems in _Morse, My Deaf Friend_— the chapbook by Miloš Djurdjević published by Ugly Duckling. . .

Read More >

The Crimson Thread of Abandon
The Crimson Thread of Abandon by Terayama Shūji
Reviewed by Robert Anthony Siegel

The Crimson Thread of Abandon is the first collection of short fiction available in English by the prolific Japanese writer and all-around avant-garde trickster Terayama Shūji, who died in 1983 at the age of 47. This collection would be important. . .

Read More >

Life Embitters
Life Embitters by Josep Pla
Reviewed by Christopher Iacono

Last year, NYRB Classics introduced English-language readers to Catalan writer Josep Pla with Peter Bush’s translation of The Gray Notebook. In that book, Pla wrote about life in Spain during an influenza outbreak soon after World War I, when. . .

Read More >

The Physics of Sorrow
The Physics of Sorrow by Georgi Gospodinov
Reviewed by Izidora Angel

“Your bile is stagnant, you see sorrow in everything, you are drenched in melancholy,” my friend the doctor said.
bq. “Isn’t melancholy something from previous centuries? Isn’t some vaccine against it yet, hasn’t medicine taken care of it yet?” I. . .

Read More >

Vano and Niko
Vano and Niko by Erlom Akhvlediani
Reviewed by Vincent Francone

What to make of Vano and Niko, the English translation of Erlom Akhvlediani’s work of the same name, as well as the two other short books that comprise a sort of trilogy? Quick searches will inform the curious reader that. . .

Read More >

The Indian
The Indian by Jón Gnarr
Reviewed by P. T. Smith

The opening of Jón Gnarr’s novel/memoir The Indian is a playful bit of extravagant ego, telling the traditional story of creation, where the “Let there be light!” moment is also the moment of his birth on January 2nd, 1967. Then. . .

Read More >

Mother of 1084; Old Women; Breast Stories
Mother of 1084; Old Women; Breast Stories by Mahasweta Devi
Reviewed by Christopher Iacono

Mahasweta Devi is not only one of the most prolific Bengali authors, but she’s also an important activist. In fact, for Devi, the two seem to go together. As you can probably tell from the titles, she writes about women. . .

Read More >

Tristana
Tristana by Benito Pérez Galdós
Reviewed by Lori Feathers

The prolific Spanish author Benito Pérez Galdós wrote his short novel, Tristana, during the closing years of the nineteenth century, a time when very few options were available to women of limited financial means who did not want a husband.. . .

Read More >

The History of Silence
The History of Silence by Pedro Zarraluki
Reviewed by P. T. Smith

Pedro Zarraluki’s The History of Silence (trans. Nick Caistor and Lorenza García) begins with the narrator and his wife, Irene, setting out to write a book about silence, itself called The History of Silence: “This is the story of how. . .

Read More >

Flesh-Coloured Dominoes
Flesh-Coloured Dominoes by Zigmunds Skujiņš
Reviewed by P. T. Smith

There are plenty of reasons you can fail to find the rhythm of a book. Sometimes it’s a matter of discarding initial assumptions or impressions, sometimes of resetting oneself. Zigmunds Skujiņš’s Flesh-Coloured Dominoes was a defining experience in the necessity. . .

Read More >