Tom: There are plenty of Palomas, of course; it’s odd how one admittedly-rare first name’s been associated with just one artist. Anyway, how’s the song?
Tim: In a word: bouncy.
Tim: Sound about right? It’s all up and downy, beat to beat.
Tom: The cutting edge of music journalism right here, folks. Not that you’re wrong, it’s just that I don’t think you’d see NME using “up and downy”.
Tim: Oh, please. The day we take our lead from the NME will be a sad one indeed, although I did like that they did the interview that brought this story.
Anyway, weird comparison: you know on Disney sing-along videos, you get Mickey Mouse’s head bouncing along above the lyrics? That’s what the chorus here reminds me of. Her voice is up and down and up and down, and the main beat is just there and there and there and there with not much in between.
Tom: I think I see where you’re going. But do you like it? ‘Cos I’m not sure what I think.
Tim: Well, I also find it difficult to sing along to without moving my shoulders from side to side, which puts me in a fairly chirpy mood, so yes, I like this considerably. Excellent stuff.
I got distracted during that first verse and then woke up during that chorus.
Tim: First single off her second album, this is.
Tom: And just to repeat, again: “not that Gabrielle”.
Tim: What we have here is a song you start playing, think ‘yeah, it’s alright’, get distracted reading something or other, and end up missing the blinder of a chorus that the verses really don’t do justice to. So if you missed it, go back and have another listen. It’s worth it.
Tom: That’s actually exactly what happened with me. I got distracted during that first verse and then, well, “woke up” during that chorus.
Tim: The verses are nice enough, sure, but they’re not really much out of the ordinary. That chorus, though, short as it may be, does come with some fantastic instrumentation to it which is brilliant. I just wish it was longer, and the verses were a bit shorter. Or perhaps just better. That’d be preferable, I think.
Tim: I know, Tom, I know, you don’t like Eurovision spoilers, and for that reason I won’t say a word to describe this song, which is Ukraine’s entry. Push the mute button, and watch the video. (It’s safe to say this is not the performance you’ll be watching on the night.)
Tim: And what about that.
Tom: Crikey.
Tim: Dragonflies made of GOLD LIGHT. Butterflies made of BLUE LIGHT. MYSTIC SPARKS. Islands FLOATING IN THE SKY. STUPIDLY-COLOURED hummingbirds. UNICORNS. Bloody UNICORNS. Seriously, WHAT.
Tim: You may be wondering why Ukraine, a small country, chose to spend probably a majority of its entire GDP on one three-minute video, and, by any sensible judgment, you’d be right to ask. According to the YouTube wizards, it had a lot to do with the people. Once the song had been chosen, last December (yes, December), the broadcaster said, roughly: give us your ideas. And boy, did they get ideas. 608, to be precise – some, apparently, were “constructive”, and others were “fantastic/impossible”. You know, I would love to know what the impossible ones were. Dinosaurs? Swarming armies of Triffids?
Tom: Having any sense of reserve?
Tim: BUT. It wasn’t just the video – there’s a reason the song was chosen in December. I said I wouldn’t describe the song, and I won’t, but once it had been chosen by the public, elements of it were put up for review on Ukraine’s premier social networking site – the tempo, how many choruses, prominence of backing vocals, ‘power’ of the opening – and votes were taken. Results were gathered, the composers went back to their room, and two months later we have a song, considerably different, and improved, from the original. That, my friend, is how a voting public decides a song.
Tom: Blimey. Somehow I can’t see the BBC managing that.
Tim: You remember a while ago, there was a fairly successful Swedish group? Can’t remember what it was called, but the members were called Agnetha, Björn, Benny and Anni-Frid.
They had some sort of success sometime or another – I think they were like the second or third best-selling band of all time. I don’t know, they were before my time. But now, and actually I can’t fake this any more, AGNETHA’S ONLY BLOODY BRINGING OUT A NEW ALBUM.
Tom: Strange: Bonnie Tyler does a Eurovision song, and you’re cynical. Agnetha releases an album, and you’re all excited. What causes that, I wonder?
Tim: Well, firstly I’d quite like the Bonnie Tyler track if it wasn’t the song that’s due to represent the country’s musical output at the world’s largest music competition, and secondly, Bonnie Tyler has (as far as I’m concerned) a two-track Greatest Hits collection, whilst ABBA has a two-disc collection.
Tim: And what about that?
Tom: It’s… well, it’s pleasant, I guess?
Tim: Apparently the credit for the whole new album thing should go to writer Jörgen Elofsson, who has more thana couple ofabove averagetracks to his name, who apparently turned up on her doorstep with a few tracks he’d written for her, and it all went from there. And how wonderful it is that it did. Because…oh wow. It’s just beautiful.
Tom: See, I’m not quite on board with that.
Tim: Seriously?
Tom: It’s a nice track, well performed and competently produced, but I can’t say there’s anything in there that makes me go “this is wonderful, this is a comeback, this is a hit”.
Tim: Not a massive hit, no, but it’s a lovely tune to lead a new album with. Gentle, charming, and all round ‘aaahhhh’-ing.
Admittedly I could take or leave the synthy middle eight, but my favourite part of it, by quite some way, is the entry into the first chorus. I don’t know what it is, but it gives me the same sort of feeling as a well-executed key change. And I really can’t ask for more than that.
Tim: It’s getting on for eighteen months since we’ve had any new material from Le Kid, so this really should be quite good, shouldn’t it? And with a title like “We Are Young”, we’ll have at least a vague idea of what we’re likely to hear. So, the big question: it is as good as it should be?
Tim: Yes. Yes it is.
Tom: Damn right. The opening sounded a bit Aqua-ish – good, if derivative – but the rest of the track went in a different direction, and a good one at that.
Tim: It’s a more mature sound than we had on their previous album, you could say, and it’s bloody good. It’s another one that reminds me of Icona Pop’s I Love It, but is a bit less full on, and, well, in this case I almost could say that about it – it’s a fantastic ‘get up and go’ song.
The only problem is the occasional reminder of Pitbull with the “cause all…”, but I can easily cope with that when the rest of it is so great.
Tom: Wait, that’s a reminder of Pitbull? Man, he must be pretty much taking over your brain. You should get that seen to.
Tim: You’re right, actually. Sorry.
Tom: Mind you, my problem with the track is that it does start to repeat itself a lot, even in just three and a half minutes. It’s not a bad thing to repeat, but it could use some more switching up.
Tim: There aren’t a lot of songs where I could describe their repetitiveness as a good thing, but here I think it is, because that hook is really catchy and enjoyable. This is a great track, and pretty much exactly what Le Kid’s new track needed to be.
And hey – from the start of it, it could even qualify as “guitar music”. OKAY I’M DONE WITH THAT.
“Starts out quiet; is in fact something of a builder.”
Tim: Starts out quiet; is in fact something of a builder.
Tom: Crikey, you’re not wrong there.
Tim: The title translates from Finnish to ‘Stranger’, though that’s in the ‘unknown person’ sense, rather than the ‘just bloody weird’ sense that the video would imply.
Tom: It is quite the video.
Tim: In fact, regarding the video, I don’t really have much time for people that wear such ridiculous levels of floral clothing, straight-up flowers and mystical headgear, and prance around doing curious wavy things with their hand, and end up floating around in front of the Doctor Who opening titles, mainly because I’m a bit worried they’re trying to put some sort of spell on me.
Tom: Now that implies you’ve had dealings with people who’ve done that before. What kind of communes have you been hanging out with?
Tim: I’m going to ignore (a) that question and (b) the load of hippy nonsense that is the video and that way I can concentrate on the really rather wonderful track.
As I said, it’s called Stranger, but beyond that I’ve got no idea what it’s about. I can speculate – instincts from the video would suggest it’s a ‘meet a new person, go and do magic rituals with them in the forest’ (and it’s 50-50 as to whether or not that’d be a euphemism) – but to be honest I’m not that bothered because I just love the music.
Tom: It’s one of the best examples of a ‘builder’ track that I’ve seen in a long while: listen to how the synths slowly join behind the guitar in those first thirty seconds. It ramps beautifully.
Tim: The way it builds from a slightly dull start to a proper, almost orchestral sounding banger of a second chorus in just a minute and a half without skipping a beat is, as far as I’m concerned, quite, quite brilliant. That it then carries that on for another ninety seconds is better yet, and here I think the fake ending middle eight is a lovely choice, because you only just get time to think “what, already?” before it’s returned in all its glory for a few more rounds. I love this track. A lot.
Tim: Sweden has chosen, and together with various international juries has come to the conclusion that this song is best placed to represent them in Malmö; out of the options we were given, I’m hard pressed to disagree with them.
Tom: Right. For the readers’ benefit: I was watching the Melodifestivalen final along with Tim, and after the last song I said something along the lines of “well, they’re not hosting it next year”.
Tom: I also mentioned “he looks like Jake Humphrey”. Because he does.
Tim: He does rather, yes.
The weird thing about this song is that when it first started I thought it was horribly dull. I’ve found I can judge an entry based on how much port I get through whilst it’s being played, and at twenty seconds in I was reaching to refill my glass. Five seconds later, I put the bottle straight back down and tweeted: “UNEXPECTED DROP”; that was shortly followed by “This chorus is at least 17 times better than I first thought it would be.”
I stand by that, because it was my favourite of the songs in the final (even if it did have to go via Andra Chansen to get there) and I’m glad it won.
Tom: Yep. Sweden made the right choice. And I’ve finally realised what it reminds me of: a more poppy, male version of Florence and the Machine. You’ve got the full-on instrumentation behind a soaring voice that switches between notes as part of a long, soaring vocal line.
Tim: Actually, that’s right – I’d not thought to make that comparison but it’s a pretty good one.
Builders often don’t work at Eurovision, Melodifestivalen and the like – with only three minutes and one performance, they have to either be very noticeable once they arrive or very quick to build. This one isn’t so much of the latter, but it certains meets all the requirements for the former. There’s no doubting that he gives it all he’s got, the fireworks in the background create a proper moment, and the chorus line is infectious enough that you’re able to sing along by the end of it. This is a good entrant, and while it’s almost certainly not a Eurovision winner I reckon it’ll still do well.
Tom: Top third, maybe top quarter of the table.
Tim: Final note: I don’t think we can let this go without mentioning his reaction to the result, because the expression on his face as he discovers he’s won (and the subsequent very obvious expletive) is a joy to behold.
Tom: That’s actually her middle name. She had to change it after losing a bar bet in the mid-90s. True story.
Tim: The BBC has, it turns out, not learned any lessons from last year, and is intent on sending another singer from the past. “Oh, but it’s Bonnie Tyler!” they’ll say. “Everyone loves Bonnie Tyler!” And we’ll say, “Really? Go on then, if she’s so great, name three of her songs.” And they’ll say, “Three? Are you sure you want three?” And we’ll say “Yes, three, please.” And they’ll say “Oh, come on, she’s brilliant! There was Holding Out For A Hero, and Total Eclipse Of The Heart, and, and, and, oh come on, she’s brilliant!”
But hey – I’ve written all that before hearing the song. My instincts may be wrong. I seriously hope they’re wrong.
Tom: “You just curse the rain / you say” at 0:24. “Crawling by” at 1:34. Either there’s been some complete screwup on the production side – which I can’t rule out – or there’s an incredible amount of autotune on those lyrics.
Whichever it is, that doesn’t bode well.
Tim: Really? I can’t hear anything wrong, there. At least, not with those bits. For the rest of it, I’ll say this: it’s not as awful as last year. Not by a long way. It’s pretty bad as a Eurovision entry, and it doesn’t stand a chance against people like Cascada and Emmelie de Forest (Denmark’s entry), and it’ll probably even take a back seat Finland’s wedding dress lady, but it’s not as bad as last year.
Tom: Aye, I’ll go with that. It’s actually a respectable Eurovision entry – not necessarily a memorable one or a Top 10 finisher, but it’s respectable.
Tim: Perhaps, until you remember what Eurovision should be, because part of me thinks the BBC has forgotten. Whatever your feelings about it – and there are people who like it, because it is a decent song – this is absolutely not a British pop song. Sure, it’s got the melody of it about right – there’s probably plenty of blame to go around, but I don’t think you could lay it at the writer’s feet, not when he’s got a pedigree including Livin’ On A Prayer, Livin’ La Vida Loca and Waking Up In Vegas.
Tom: That makes sense: produce it differently and this could be a Katy Perry album track.
Tim: But man, Bonnie Tyler? I mean, maybe she’s still got the moves, but a big name from three and a half decades ago just isn’t enough, and you’d have thought that they’d have learnt that this year. Where did the idea that “old people are great” cone from? Maybe their cry is that young people aren’t interested in it and don’t want to compete, but if Twitter’s anything to go by people do care, and aren’t really all that happy.
So here’s a thought (and I’m aware I’m by no means the first person to come up with this): BBC. You have a big international music competition that you put a lot of money into each year, so you want people to get into it. You also have a national music competition that you put a lot of money into each year, that you really really want people to get into. Why not merge the two? Seriously, it would give The Voice a purpose beyond being “the BBC’s answer to The X Factor”, it would give a lot more people a reason to watch it, and the winner wouldn’t come out of it with nothing but a winner’s single that didn’t even make the top 40.
Tom: Or somehow get One Direction to do it. That’d guarantee us a win.
Tim: I’m fairly sure you’re saying that as a joke, but now you mention it: what would they lose by doing it?
You could get distracted and it would all just wash over you in a wonderfully pleasing way
Tim: This, from a new Swedish duo, will be the second song in two days to get a Sound of Arrows comparison, but here it’s because of what it is, rather than because we’re not sure what it is.
Tim: It’s a song where, if you weren’t careful, you could get distracted and it would all just wash over you in a wonderfully pleasing way but without you really noticing it – the first time you’d realise would be when it finished and there was a sudden void and you’d vaguely remember what you were missing.
Tom: Funny thing is, that’s pretty much exactly what happened to me. I switched back in during that odd, discordant middle eight, though – and then realised that I was supposed to be listening to the whole song. I still had trouble staying focused on it.
Tim: But you shouldn’t get distracted, because this is a song that really does deserve to be listened to properly. It’s that relaxing quality that’s one of the best things about it – It’s lovely, it’s charming, you can sit back and let it sink in to you and relax you, like some sort of aural drug. It’s delightful.
Tom: That’s true. Personally, I’d prefer something that would hold my attention a bit more, but to each their own.
Tim: Also, up until recently I’d have complained about the fade-out ending, as is my wont, but I met someone a few days ago who postulated that fade-out endings were good, because they come with a sense of “always leave them wanting more”.
Tom: How so?
Tim: He made the point that if a song just ends there’s a temptation for the listener to think “Right, that’s that,” whereas if it just fades out, there’s more of a desire to hit play all over again so it keeps going. Obviously if the song’s good enough you shouldn’t need that encouragement – here I wouldn’t – but I can at least appreciate one reason for them now, even if I do still think they’re a lazy way to finish.
Tim: This is good. Very good. But it’s not hard to see why it came seventh in its Melodifestivalen heat.
Tim: I spent at least the first ninety seconds, maybe even two minutes, of this trying to work out what was going on. Not that it’s particularly weird – it’s just so dark that it really just doesn’t seem right. The cracked mirrors, the spikes on her fingers, the expression on her face that’s a mix of deranged and psychopathic. The minor key, the underlying strings that come from a horror film soundtrack.
Tom: You know, I think I could really like this track if it wasn’t for that “dun-dun-dun-dun” in the chorus. That sticks out like a rusty upturned nail on a park bench. And perhaps that middle-eight, where she sounds a bit like a low-rent Bjork. The rest of the track’s cracking, though.
Tim: It’s not particularly surprising – this is, after all, the same singer who provided us with Bastard, wonderfully insulting but not remotely happy – but it sticks out emotionally so much that once you’ve zoned out to it and are able to appreciate it it’s pretty much finished. Technically that means it’s a good thing that it got knocked out, as it would probably bomb in Malmö, but it’s really a shame because it is a fantastic track that was just misplaced.
Agreed: that bell-filled final chorus is amazing, but it’d never take Eurovision.
