This happens ever so often (or in our opinion way too often) in Eurovision: A bunch of weirdos disguised as folk musicians show up and sprinkle their fairy dust from last century. They’re often old enough to have founded a cheese or something and dressed in whatever they managed to steal from the British museum who in turn stole it from their mother who never used it in the first place.
Of course, media loves them. ‘Look at the weirdos from a lunatic place far, far away from us’, they would write, and the number of views on YouTube would raise by hundreds of thousands. And of course, the hipsters love them even more. ‘Look, here’s something no one likes, so we should totally dig it’, they would write in their personal, handwritten letter to Zoey Deschanel, who decides to invite the gang over for her private reception in her LA loft, which of course sets off their YouTube numbers to the most inappropriate.
Still it is all a bunch of crap. Let’s just call a spade a dirty shovel and admit what this year’s Russian entry really is: Five grandmothers and one great grandmother who try so hard to make the best out of the situation. The situation being that they cannot sing and cannot perform and don’t have a faintest idea why they are on stage dressed in the fall 2009 collection of Romania’s tourist shops and accompanied by a most horrible beat by Moscow’s equivalent of David Guetta while they show us how they really really love each other. For that stamina they oughta be granted a thankyou. For everything else, let’s just say forgetaboutit. It sucks, and not a million hipsters in St. Petersburg will be able to prove us wrong.
So nope, no weirdo sympathy from us here. Please wrap up your baboushka and hand it back to Kate Bush, Russia. And bring us some hot guys, like you used to.