Hooray, today is the 17th of May – our national day, where we celebrate getting rid of Denmark and, eventually, Sweden. How very appropriate, then, that KEiiNO kicked it off right around midnight here in Tel Aviv by MAKING IT TO THE FINAL. Unfortunately, they had to bring aforementioned Scandinavian countries, but that’s of no concern to a group of three extremely talented people that can sing and joik Växsjö tabernacle choir’s socks off any day.
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We got 8 right from the first semi final which was better than most and we didn’t even try to make a prediction. We must be Eurovision experts. Tonight’s semi final wil be carnage, we kid you not, GoT has nothing on Eurovision. These are the entries we would like to see in Saturday’s Grand Final:
Continue readingGreat. So we woke up after yet another night of vodka shots and five minutes of sleep. And we figure Victor speaks for all of us when he shows us how that feels:
OMG, we are so happy we sent our assistant to Jerusalem to stuff a note into that wall as it seems all our prayers are already heard: PAPAI JOCI is not only BACK IN EUROVISION looking as amazing as ever, but he also agreed to an EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW with us, probably because his fabulous PR agent Símon got sick of us bothering him 24-7.
Anyway, we met on a beautiful open space in Tel Aviv and had a great talk. It went like this:
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Finally. After hours of discussion, after shedding blood and tears, after many a chardonnay bottle and painful rehearsals, after shutting down all the whining from our gay friends with bad taste, we have reached a verdict in Eurovision’s most significant competition: Who is the hottest male artist of 2019?
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Another day of rehearsals wrapped up in Tel Aviv, and it is looking GOOD. We have now seen all the entries for the semi finals. The odds are moving all over the place and so are our feelings. But we noticed quite a few things anyway:
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One group of people walks among us without getting the attention they deserve. Without them, Eurovision would be a sad and lonely place. Without them, people outside of the press center gossip bubble would not know the meaning of half of the entries, not see half of the crazy details and not know who fights with who over what backstage. We are of course talking about the various countries’ commentators. This year, we decided to have a chat with a few of them.
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So the last couple of days have been crazy in Ukraine’s little corner of Eurovision. In case you were stuck in a different galaxy and didn’t hear the story already, here’s a quick recap for you – just hold your horses real tight:
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Finally! After months of TV time wasted on women clad in red and trapped in future New England, KGB spies pretending to be American suburbians and bodyguards sleeping with middle-aged, British MPs. After a long time with nothing else to fight about than whether Donald Trump was worse today than yesterday, whether Sweden is going to find a government in time for next Melodifestivalen and whether the EU is better off without Great Britain, just like the rest of us. After countless parties with polite conversations, careful mingling and not a sequin or toilet doll in sight, we hit Eurovision season.
Oh, how we welcome these days of pure joy, lilacs and laughter. How we long for dishy men in hotpants, bitchy boys from Sweden, instruments never seen outside of Eastern Europe and WTFs from Spain. How we cannot wait for the next attempt to conquer the world from Italy. And how we cannot wait to start satirizing about the people’s democratic republic of Israel! Continue reading
Earlier this year we hardly believed our slightly challenged ear drums: Hungary had picked a metal band to represent them in Eurovision? And they even had a key change?
Being from the country that invented metal, we needed a chat, of course. A sunny afternoon in Lisbon, we rushed out of being interviewed by some Norwegian media and they rushed out of hair and make-up ahead of the dress rehearsal and we managed to meet half way between the press center and the venue with a very stricked, armed Portuguese guard looking over our shoulders. Continue reading