Readers of this blog might have picked up on our avid fascination for Denmark and all things Danish. Since we’ve both lived there, we’ve sort of adopted the country as our second homeland. In Eurovision terms we almost always love whatever the Danes pick for us, with very few exceptions. Such as the Nevermind who flaunted his lame welding glasses all around town in Oslo a couple of years back. Yuck.
Last year we saw the wonderful AFIL blokes win in Copenhagen, and we must say that the whole event was very well organized and professionally presented. 12 points to the broadcaster DR, we reckon there are plenty of people there craving for the opportunity to host the big show and show off their skills and talents to the rest of Europe.
However what we don’t find particularly appealing is this apparent obsession with winning. We get fed up with DMGP-hosts jabbering on every five minutes about how they are going to take home the Eurovision trophy this year. Sure it’s allowed to be ambitious, and the results achieved internationally the past few years are impressive. But they sort of lose some of the casual and laidback charm the Danes are usually known for. Winning is nice, but having a fun ride along the way is also pretty important if you ask us. Instead it’s all about ten handpicked songs in the final, and it’s all no nonsense and all sensible and presentable. And calculated, predictable, polished and rather dull. The line up lacks diversity, it all sounds the same, no one sings out of tune, stir up any controversy or bring something new to the table. Perhaps if the Danes dared to make room for something different, and stopped worrying so much about what will hit with the voters across Europe, they would land their long anticipated win faster than we could pronounce rødgrød med fløde?
Right, we’re supposed to review this year’s entry. Which is a harmless, radio-friendly, cleverly crafted, cute little number. Well performed by flower child Soluna Samay, who seems to have hooked up with Poli Genova’s backing band from last year. We find ourselves being too fascinated by the drummer to take any real notice to the song. Not a good sign. And what’s the deal with Soluna’s outfit? It looks as misplaced as rich brats wearing Palestine scarfs because it’s fashionable.
We can’t think of any reason why a song should start off with the chorus, why give away the best part at the very beginning? This kind of overselling makes us suspicious and grumpy. And when the lyrics are childish and packed with cliches is doesn’t exactly make us more cheerful. Such juvenile scribblings are best left behind in eight grade.
Maybe the kids will fall for this. Maybe they can better relate to the teenage angst on display here than we do. After all kids nowadays watch Twilight and get emotionally engaged in Paradise Hotel. But Soluna can forget about getting any votes from yours truly, if she ever makes it as far as to the final. Danes, reinvent yourselves for next year, please.