Eurovision is something I became vaguely aware of last year when I first met the boy. Since most of my readers, at least as far as I'm aware, aren't familiar with the great phenomenon that simultaneously causes each participating nation both great pride and great humiliation, you can read a more objective description of the contest here. Or you can just read my impression of it.
Imagine if American Idol (or X Factor, if that's your thing) were bigger, brighter, involved the stage being set on fire, and lasted only a couple of weeks, and each contestant represents a different country. In some ways, we might expect it to involve higher quality music and artists since the songs are original... but then we should remember that they're being written for a televised contest that celebrates the cheesiest, most accessible, pop-radio readiest music ever.
Europeans all know, and I've learned, that the biggest joke of Eurovision is that the musical acts are usually chosen more for their appearances than their talent. As is to be expected, this results in the whole thing looking and sounding like bad wedding karaoke. The women are all hot, and most of them can't sing at all. The men all fall into very specific "types," all of which are Hollywood-approved; even the pudgy guys have a Seth Rogen appeal. Women get to dance while men get to play instruments. And everyone sounds like either Celine Dion or a Backstreet Boy.
Today was only the first semi-final, but I'm blogging it because, since I'm actually in the US visiting right now, there's no guarantee I'll see the rest of it. This may be the first of only two or three Eurovision 2011 posts, or it may be the only one. Either way, it's going to be a horrible journey.
Because I love you all, and because so much of Eurovision's horror lies in its visuals, I took screencaps of the event. However, I was watching the livestream of it online, and my connection sucked, so the caps are extremely low quality. Count that as a blessing. (EDIT! To make up for the crappy stills, I've waited until the videos of each performance went up on YouTube so I could link them. Now you may share in my pain.)
Clickety click for shiny sequinned horrors.
