Eurovision is broken. Here’s how to fix it

Once the angry booing has died down, organisers will want to learn from what went wrong in Malmö and give the annual songfest a reboot. Paul Clements would like to get things started with douze points of his own…

Croatia’s Baby Lasagne: ‘There’s no place for the cringeworthy in Eurovision any more – it’s polished and professional all the way’ (TT News Agency/AFP via Getty Ima)

According to its dedicated followers, this Eurovision is the first in years without an obvious winner. Given the ugly protests against the Israeli entry in Malmö this week, there is also a clear loser: the song contest itself.

Any one of a handful of entrants – Croatia, Switzerland, Italy, Ukraine and, yes, Israel – could take home the crystal microphone in tonight’s grand final. Barring a technical hitch involving a dodgy earpiece, a voting scandal or, after all the angry disruptions, something worse, my money is on us meeting again next year in Zagreb. A win for Croatia’s Baby Lasagne looks nailed on, which, for a techno-metal band, seems somehow fitting.

At first, their infectious, humorous song, “Rim Tim Tagi Dim”, appears to be another novelty number with nonsense lyrics, nodding to daft Eurovision winners from yesteryear, such as “Dinge-Dong”  and “Diggi-Loo Diggi-ley”. Except, it’s actually about the plight of economic migrants – ”Hey, I’m a big boy now, I’m going away and I sold my cow…” – knowingly performed by a poised, bleach-haired rock god in the making.

And that, in a nutshell, is 21st-century Eurovision. There’s no place for the cringeworthy any more – it’s polished and professional all the way. Hey, the event is so high-status, it’s even worth blockading in the name of Palestinian rights. In its 68th year, I’m not sure the old bird would recognise its younger self.

After all the upset caused this year, I’d like to do my bit to help the contest pick itself up and dust itself down. So here, in a highly partisan and completely sincere assessment, are 12 ways to make Eurovision great again. Little touches and rethinks that would provide a useful reset.

My douze pointers, if you will…

1. Stop singing in English

Whoever said that music is the only true international language – and Google says it was 19th-century American poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow – hadn’t counted on Eurovision.

In the beginning, contestants were hidebound by a requirement that they perform in their native tongue. It was Abba that made English Eurovision’s lingua franca: after a “Waterloo” dress rehearsal in 1974, they decided to take advantage of a rule change and not sing in Swedish after all. Because “Jo, jo! Vid Waterloo Napoleon fick ge sig…” doesn’t quite hit the mark, does it?

But hang on – in this post-globalised world, bringing back a “local languages only” stipulation would add a certain frisson. Whatever that means in English.

2. No more soulless arenas

Ever since 38,000 people filled Copenhagen’s Parken Stadium for the 2001 Eurovision, staging the contest has been involved in something of an arms race. But biggest isn’t always bestest.

Two of the most memorable Eurovisions were in the unlikeliest places – in Millstreet, in 1993, a tiny County Cork village (population: 1,800); and Harrogate, in 1982, if only to showcase the North Yorkshire spa town’s brand new international convention centre (capacity: 2,000).

Today’s arena affairs can be overblown and soulless, not least for the majority of us watching at home. Pick smaller music venues or lovely old theatres, fill the audience with excitable competition winners, and put up big screens outside so the visiting public can soak up the atmos.

3. Bring back the orchestra

Time was when each competing country sent not only their finest act, but also their leading conductor, to make use of the host city’s musical talents. Sometimes to good effect: in Waterloo’s 50th year, you won’t have failed to escape the clip of Sweden’s baton-wielder dressed as Napoleon…

The services of a full orchestra was last called upon when Birmingham hosted in 1998, rendered largely obsolete by the practicalities of musicians faced with more than three-dozen different scores, as well as changing tastes and advances in backing-track technology.

Only now can we see what has been lost: when Ireland’s double winner Johnny Logan appeared as an interval act earlier this week, his rendition of ‘Euphoria’ with an orchestra for backing was a highlight.

4. Go live, or go home

Which brings me to the main acts. Too many of the backing vocals at Eurovision these days are pre-recorded. Sometimes – while the lead singer is engaged in a rigorous, Beyonce-style dance routine-cum-workout – a backing track has done the heavy lifting.

But it’s a song contest, people, not a performance contest. Belt it out live, or belt up.

5. Put a stop to bloc voting

For a song contest with a strict “no politics” rule, the public voting remains comically political. If Eurovision were a business, it would be a cartel.

Of all the countries that like to vote for each other regardless – the so-called “collusive pairs” – Greece and Cyprus lead the way. The UK routinely votes for Ireland, but rarely gets much back. France can expect votes from Germany (but maybe not vice versa, on the strength of this year’s entry). The Viking voting bloc sees Scandinavian countries vote for each other and its neighbours on the Baltic fringes.

Here’s an idea to counteract the disapora effect, which benefits countries whose citizens are more likely to live abroad (ie, everyone but monoglot Brits, then). Once the votes are in, make the top five on the leaderboard perform again – and open reopen to public vote. You could make an even longer weekend of it, by holding the part-two on Sunday night, Strictly-style.

6. Make ‘nul points’ a thing again

Under the current, inexplicably convoluted voting system, it is unlikely that any act, no matter how bad, will leave empty handed, with the dreaded no-score. The last country to go out for a duck was the UK, in 2021. But look how a bit of public shaming convinced us to up our game. Without crowd-displeaser James Newman, there’d have been no Sam Ryder. Nul points can be character-building.

7. Let the United States take part

When Eurovision comes around, there is one question that gets asked of two countries: “Why are they taking part – they’re not even in Europe?”

The short answers are: Israel? Because, like all members of the European Broadcasting Union, they pay their subs. And Australia? Because TV viewers there adore the contest so much, execs asked if they could take part, and were happy to pay for the privilege.

So why not go one step further and let, say, the USA take part, too? After Brits and Danes, the third biggest delegation of foreign fans in Malmo are Americans. And “Here are the results of the New York jury…” would give chills.

8. No automatic places in the final

At last: this year, the Big Five – those countries who bankroll the European Broadcasting Union, namely the UK, France, Italy, Germany and Spain – were invited to perform their songs in the semi-finals. Not so high and might now, are we! The next logical, rightful step would be to make them compete for their place in the Saturday final.

9. Golden handcuffs for Hannah!

Can we agree that if anything untoward were ever to happen to the TV’s master of ceremonies Graham Norton, then Hannah Waddingham, the excellent host of Liverpool’s Eurovision, gets first refusal on his place in the Sir Terry Wogan memorial commentary booth? The same applies if Scott Mills goes under a bus. (She and Rylan doing the warm-up coverage would be a riot…)

10. Trust the British public more

It’s time to let the people have a say in who we send to Eurovision. Not just because in recent years the UK has remembered that it loved the song contest – but that record companies don’t have our best interests at heart. This year’s UK entry, “Dizzy” by Olly Alexander – pre-selected by faceless industry types – peaked at number 42 in the charts. We need a selection process like Spain’s Benidorm Fest or Sweden’s Melodienfestival. Get Hannah Waddingham on the phone, she could sort it.

11. Ditch the slogan

However did Eurovision manage before the advent of the cheesy slogan? Since 2002, the contest has been “supported” (in the corporate-speak that has taken over) by a well-intentioned but ultimately hollow tagline – “We Are One”, “Celebrate Diversity”, “Building Bridges”. It led one fan to creating a random Eurovision slogan generator, which pumped out endless nice-but-meaningless mottos (“Feel the Fast Food Music” was a particular favourite).

Sadly, it will never be: “United By Music” will henceforth be the competition’s forever slogan. Fine, as sentiments go – but Israel’s entry might not have felt the unity.

12. Brush up your Eurovision history

For a song contest dating back to the 1950s, fans today have such short memories. You’d be forgiven for thinking Eurovision started in the noughties. Nostalgia means remembering fondly an act from 2014…

Another good little innovation at this year’s semi-finals was trailing the performances with snippets from two previous contestants – part retro wallowing, part warning from history. More, more, more of this going forward, please.