Eurovision Returns to Its Roots: A Guide to the ABBA-Inspired, Lasagne-Obsessed Song Competition
The bar wasn't too high in 1974 when Paul Anka's "Having My Baby" topped the charts, making it to the 2006 CNN list of worst songs ever. However, Abba, then still present in human form, has been the unofficial guardians of the Eurovision Song Contest as the competition evolved into one of the most lively and colorful musical events in the world.
Celebrating their "Waterloo" breakthrough 50 years ago, this year's Eurovision returns to Sweden, the spiritual home of the event, following Loreen's victory in last May's competition and becoming the first person to win the contest twice. Coincidences don't get more incredible than this - is this not evidence of a Eurovision-loving God?
Loreen, now the undisputed queen of Eurovision, doesn't quite see it like that. "Some people think Sweden is the spiritual home of Eurovision - I see it as an ever-changing entity, who cares about the location?" she tells CNN.
Well, that wasn't the narrative we had in mind. But Loreen, who took over the glittery baton from ABBA, surely feels a smidge of nostalgia when she sees the four legendary faces plastered all over Malmo, the host city?
"I'm checking out ABBA and thinking, 'Man, I want those pants,'" she exclaims with enthusiasm. "Those platform shoes, where can I find those, I wonder?"
Can you just say something nice about ABBA, so we can move on and discuss the participants in this year's contest?
"It's an incredible piece of art," she praises, reflecting on their music and style. "The whole ABBA concept is a vibe!"
While ABBA are a thing of the past, Baby Lasagne, Windows95Man, and Nemo (a person, not a fish) are very much the present. And this year's Eurovision Contest is as dynamic, absurd, and powerful as ever.
CNN takes the serious task of feverishly watching rehearsals and meticulously analyzing every song to bring you this: the comprehensive guide to the 2024 Eurovision Song Contest.
Artists have gone through two semi-finals, and 26 have made it to Saturday's grand final, which starts at 9 p.m. local time (3 p.m. EST) in Malmo.
As Sarah Bonnici of Malta puts it, "Here we go again, huh?"
"I don't need to be normal"
For the rest of the world, hosting Eurovision is a prestigious honor. For Sweden, it's starting to feel like the quirky friend's improv troupe you'd promised to watch, but forgot about until the last minute, right when you're about to step into a bubble bath with a glass of Pinot Grigio.
This year's fan park is a bit low-budget, grumble seasoned Eurovision fanatics. The public rehearsals were half-full, and tickets are still available for the final, just hours before the show. It's even rumored that the contest's slogan - "United by Music" - might be influenced by last year's "United by Music."
But Eurovision is a crucial part of the cultural calendar. "This community is the full spectrum of what we are. Goofy, serious, nerdy," says Loreen, rattling off various adjectives as she keeps counting on her excessively long, golden fingernails. "Everything you can imagine."
If there's one thing Loreen has learned from the contest, it's that "you can genuinely feel real, authentic love for people you've never met."
Loreen will perform as a guest during the final, while the twins Marcus and Martinus, who are turning 22 this year, carry the burden of competing for the host country.
"We're extremely competitive people," they declare without an ounce of sarcasm.
This year's frontrunner is Baby Lasagne, whose arena-shaking anthem "Rim Tim Tagi Dim" details the brain drain afflicting Croatian towns. "I'm a grown-up now; I'm leaving town and I sold my cow," he chants.
But Baby Lasagne remains remarkably grounded. He intimates his fiancée's role in his career - "She's the lasagne; I'm just the baby." And in a surprising statement, he admits, "I'm not really into lasagne. I eat it a couple of times a year."
Baby Lasagne is giving some stiff competition to Switzerland's nemo, who conceived the genre-bending masterpiece "The Code" at Eurovision camp - a place whose mere mention would leave any non-Eurovision enthusiast bewildered. "It was like a playground," he recalls. But now, nemo's at the big show, and his experience has surpassed expectations. "It was much bigger and crazier than I thought it'd be."
Ireland's Bambie Thug, also known as Windows95Man, is rapidly gaining ground as the final rounds approach, and the Netherlands' Joost Klein is still in the running. According to Windows95Man, "I don't care about winning or losing; I just love performing."
Windows95Man is at the center of a controversy concerning his act, as his persona is based entirely around an operating system whose name and logo cannot legally be shown at Eurovision. Teemu Keisteri, the mastermind behind the character, chose to wear a blurred version of the logo on his shirt. He also performs in very few clothes—Windows95Man emerges from a giant egg during Finland's performance, runs around naked for two minutes, and is eventually joined by a pair of denim hot pants that descend from the ceiling.
"In my thirties, I realized I don't need to be ordinary," said Windows95Man to CNN. "I can't control how the audience perceives my art."
The message of Windows95Man's artwork is simple: "If Daddy is a little nude, it's not that serious."
The highlights of this year's contest
Eurovision is the source of obsession for Europeans. It's all they seem to think about all year. Just ask Greece's contestant, Marina Satti. "I grew up without a TV, so I kinda lost touch," she said.
A whopping 129 artists tried out for San Marino's national selection—that's at least one Eurovision aspirant for every 260 residents of the tiny country.
The contest isn't just about the winners. There are plenty of eccentric performers who are just as memorable, if not more so, than the winners.
The worst Eurovision lyrics of the year were fiercely debated. We had some truly eerie imagery to analyze; Iceland's Hera Bjork is "standing on the edge of a promise," Saba is "throwing memories in the air," and Slimane wants to "create an ocean in the fire."
Azerbaijan's Fahree, dressed like he just stepped out of a 23rd-century Italian restaurant, sings, "Hurricanes are roaming, but you take away the pain."
Poland's Luna bizarrely belts out, "Shining in a tiger's eyes, only I can find my future." Despite this, her performance failed to reach the finals.
In Norway, Gåte won the unofficial award for the worst lyrics with, "I was a very fine and beautiful maiden, with an evil stepmother. My mother had died. She transformed me into a sword and a needle, and sent me off to the King's estate."
Eurovision's marketing teams are the real stars of the show. They put out all sorts of over-the-top publicity for their artists. Latvia's Dons, for example, "creates riveting, soul-stirring melodies." Luna "absorbs as much positive energy from the Moon as possible." Armenia claims their folk-duo's songs "have been said to transcend borders" (but doesn't specify who said this). And Cyprus's Silia Kapsis? She danced in a documentary "produced by Taboo from the Black Eyed Peas."
Finally, Portugal's Iolanda is advertised as "a promising singer."
Eurovision's performers are down-to-earth people who just want to sing their songs and make the world a better place. Joost Klein believes they can change something with this show. Loreen agrees, describing it as "quantum physics" and adding, "We're balancing things in the world right now."
If singing truly has the power to fix the world, why don't these artists just sing all the time? Why do they ever stop? Why isn't a Eurovision participant dropped into every conflict zone to sing and cry until all the world's leaders are huddled around a campfire listening to Italy's Angelina Mango play "Wonderwall" on her guitar?
The truth is that a lot of Eurovision fans find it uncomfortable to have Israel participating during the ongoing Gaza conflict. Climate activist Greta Thunberg led a pre-final protest in Malmo, and another is planned for Saturday. Israel's contestant Eden Golan was jeered during the semi-finals. The European Broadcasting Union defended Israel's participation to CNN this week.
During four hours of Saturday night, a significant part of Europe will be immersed in a romantic escape. Audience members will sit attentively, watching as various men sorrowfully lament their former relationships, sometimes in the nude. They'll cheer on the confident female contestants as they consume Malmo's supply of dry ice. The continent will become captivated by an assortment of peculiar contestants aiming to capture their hearts.
As Loreen explains: "It's a love hub... do you wish to participate?"
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The Eurovision Song Contest has been influenced by Abba's music and style throughout its evolution, making them an essential part of the competition's history.
Despite being well into her career, Loreen still feels a sense of nostalgia when she sees Abba's iconic outfits and performances.
Source: edition.cnn.com
