Eurovision 2021: the good, bad and weird songs to look out for

Iceland – Daði Freyr: 10 Years

Future scholars of camp will pen entire counterfactuals about the great cancelled Eurovision of 2020 and what might have been: while the majority of last year’s contestants are back for 2021, they must all perform different songs. It feels especially cruel to Daði Freyr, the Icelandic act who would surely have won with viral hit Think About Things, a charming study in nerdish twee full of homemade keytars and school-play dance moves. But led by Freyr himself – imagine fey Scandi singers such as Jens Lekman or Erlend Øye crossed with Napoleon Dynamite – the group are back and pretending that last year never happened, with more of the same disco-pop, if lacking maybe 10% of 2020’s magic.

Norway – Tix: Fallen Angel

Looking like an overindulged grandson of John Lennon who fell in with the wrong crowd at finishing school, Tix dons sunglasses and angel wings to cast himself as half-Icarus, half-simp. “I’m still not sure what you ever saw in me … I know heaven’s your home, that’s where angels belong,” he bleats – though in being chained to demons while dripping in white fur and bling, his tongue is enjoyably lodged in cheek, and the song’s inevitable cheesy key change will have you clapping with glee.

Sweden – Tusse: Voices

Perhaps due to some second-choice material being trotted out after last year’s cancellation, there are some weak choruses amid the big Europop numbers by various anonymous Gaga-ites. They make Tousin Chiza, AKA Tusse – a teenage Congolese refugee who ended up winning the TV talent show Swedish Idol – stand out all the more for his big, sturdy, bell-clear chorus, probably the contest’s best this year.

Czech Republic – Benny Christo: Omaga

Almost as good but with even more charisma is this track from the Jason Derulo of central Europe, Benny Christo, who references the pandemic as he tries to wheedle his way back into his girl’s life. “You’ve been home too long, I’ve been home too long,” he laments, before sealing the deal with a really good kiss-off: “There ain’t no apocalypse / Long as you’re here on my lips.” If someone uses this line on you outside of the Eurovision song contest, however, you may be entitled to compensation.

Ukraine – Go_A: Shum

Surely the most high-tempo song ever at Eurovision, this is a techno take on a vesnyanka, a traditional song sung for springtime folk rituals. Frontwoman Kateryna Pavlenko, who looks as if she would eviscerate lunkheaded bros in the opening scene of a Blade movie, has a beautifully reedy and piercing voice that pairs with some high-speed tin whistle as the group’s tempo gradually ratchets up to those favoured by a Dutch hardstyle DJ. Expect an almighty reception to this in the arena.

Italy – Måneskin: Zitti e Buoni

The cliche is that Italy has produced the world’s greatest art and cuisine but never a decent band – and Eurovision, meanwhile, isn’t exactly where you go for rock’n’roll. Any guitars tend to sound extremely synthetic, and are usually used for power chords accompanying a metal band cosplaying a zombie Oktoberfest or something. But Måneskin (Danish for moonshine; an easy douze points from the Danes) have a remarkably authentic and strutting rock sound as if played through some Marshall stacks rather than ProTools, and Damiano David’s stream of Italian lyricism sounds sensually badass over it all. They are uniformly supermodel-beautiful, would have easily ended up on the cover of the NME in 2003, and will be like a bracing shot of Jäger amid the evening’s prosecco.

Malta – Destiny: Je me casse

Aficionados of Saturday-night telly may remember Destiny Chukunyere, who did a barnstorming Think by Aretha Franklin aged 14 on Britain’s Got Talent 2017 and ended up in the semi-finals. She’s already won Junior Eurovision, too, and so brings considerable talent-show pedigree. Plus she’s doing an electro-swing track, a genre whose baffling and ingrained popularity across Europe nearly swung me into the Brexit camp, but which will be exuberantly performed and voters may well lap up.

Germany – Jendrik: I Don’t Feel Hate

It’s an ironic song title because, on first listen, hate is all you feel. Resembling Jedward collapsed into Olly Murs, brandishing a ukulele and sounding tinnier than Eric Clapton’s foil hat, it’s as if Jendrik has been tasked with committing as many sonic crimes as he can in under three minutes. And yet dancing alongside him on stage will be a woman dressed as a giant middle finger, and his music video champions everything from hijabi swimwear to male makeup: could he make the guerrilla political protest of the year? By taking perkiness to operatic levels, meanwhile, he is ultimately far better entertainment – and more purely Eurovision – than the various be-suited balladeers among his male peers.

Finland – Blind Channel: Dark Side

If you like Linkin Park but ultimately found their vision of metal just too uncompromisingly violent and countercultural, then Blind Channel might appeal. Their clanging references to the 27 Club and an “empire of the freaks”, paired with a boyband chorus and guitarist theatrics, makes me wonder if they’re actually cops using elaborate cover to try to finally define “emo” as a gang affiliation. Nevertheless, their enjoyably Korny rap-rock still stands out from the Eurovision pack – hopefully, they’ll make it through the semi-finals.

Denmark – Fyr & Flamme: Øve Os På Hinanden

Channelling such camp 80s duos as Wham! and the Communards, Fyr & Flamme – whose name suggests a new hygge-themed zone at Center Parcs – make a tremendous amount of joyful noise that sounds like a massive pop song without actually being one. Still, it takes you straight back to another era, resembling lost vintage footage of an ill-fated Scandi-pop career by Eamonn Holmes.

Azerbaijan – Efendi: Mata Hari

Bizarrely – though it would be about the 240th most bizarre thing to ever have happened at Eurovision – this isn’t the first entry about the female wartime spy, with Anne-Karine Strøm singing about her for Norway in 1976. Efendi picks up the baton to pair Ariana Grande’s high ponytail with Nicki Minaj-style declarations and Eurasian reeds. Mata Hari is the propulsively brilliant banger you’re most likely to Shazam after a pitcher of sangria in whichever Mediterranean resort you’ve been allowed on holiday to this summer.

Russia – Manizha: Russian Woman

Blending Balkan-style brass and twanging strings with reggaeton and rap is the kind of demented musical trifle for which Eurovision is justly famed, and Manizha has yet more to recommend her. Given she is a campaigner against domestic violence, the English-language chorus – “Every Russian woman needs to know / you’re strong enough to bounce against the wall” – is both chilling and stirring, while the Russian lyrics confront all manner of sexism while championing the strength of Russian womanhood. She’s annoyed an Oliver Dowden-esque culture warrior in the state Duma who dismissed her, complained that Eurovision was too LGBTQ-friendly, and said of Manizha’s performance: “I feel sorry for the Russian flag.” And she can really rap, a rarity in Eurovision.

Belgium – Hooverphonic: The Wrong Place

Running concurrently with Eurovision is an unaffiliated AI version in which teams of programmers attempt to create the best song via machine learning. Belgium’s entry sounds like the result of the parameters “Lana Del Rey” and “arse-end of 90s trip-hop scene” being entered into such a system. “Don’t you ever dare to wear my Johnny Cash T-shirt!” ends the chorus, while another lyric runs: “You get up cos you need an organic cup of tea.” Turing test: failed.

The Netherlands – Jeangu Macrooy: Birth of a New Age

Europe’s colonial history is rarely interrogated at the contest – in fact, Portugal’s 1989 entry, Conquistador, was totally celebratory, with an excruciatingly joyous chorus that went: “I have been to Brazil, Praia and Bissau! / Angola, Mozambique, Goa and Macau! / Oh, I have been to Timor / I have been a conqueror!” In 2017, though, Ukraine snuck in some criticism of Stalin’s 1944 deportation of Crimean Tatars, and this year, Jeangu Macrooy – born in former Dutch colony Suriname and now living in the Netherlands, this year’s host nation – elegantly criticises colonialism while singing in both English and Suriname’s Sranan Tongo language: “They spat on your crown and they poisoned your ground … They tried to drain you of your faith / But you are the rage that melts the chains.” It’s also one of the night’s best songs, with anthemic simplicity that cuts through the fussy instrumentation and build-and-drop dynamics elsewhere.

Macrooy’s targets are non-specific, and his song is mostly a positive tale of resilience. It’s about as strident as you can get at Eurovision, who ban outright political statements – in 2019, they fined Iceland’s BDSM electro-noise troupe Hatari for waving Palestinian flags during the Tel Aviv-based show. Nevertheless, you can imagine others breaking ranks during Israel’s performance this year.

United Kingdom – James Newman: Embers

In recent years it’s been hard to ascertain if Europe really hates us or not, because our entries have been so undeserving of votes. They’ve either been slow ballads (Bonnie Tyler, Lucie Jones) or mid-tempo ballads (Michael Rice, Joe and Jake), all so featureless they circumvent the part of your brain that forms new memories. For variety, there was also an electro-swing track so nauseating even Italians didn’t like it (Electro Velvet). You have to go back to 2014 and Molly’s spirited Children of the Universe to get something even halfway decent.

But this year’s entry from James Newman (brother and collaborator with fitful chart success John) is generic in a much more appealing way: the kind of chirpy pop-dance plied by Rudimental or Jonas Blue. Newman’s soul vocals and winning smile mean he has good stage presence, and the chorus is really hearty. If it doesn’t go Top 15, we can finally be sure that we’re despised as a nation, so that’ll be something at least.