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Just a warning: This post turned out a lot longer than I expected! It’s the most detail I’ve gone into about a Eurovision contest to date, and it’ll only get wilder from there.
Introduction
Eurovision 1966 was hosted in Luxembourg in the same building as 1962, the last time Luxembourg hosted. It had the same 18 participating countries as last time. Now that Ireland joined the contest, the interest in new countries had simmered down. Until the explosion of new participants in 1993, only seven more countries would debut; all either island countries or outside of Europe,* except Greece. There may not have been any new countries, but the list of countries it was broadcast in continued to grow. According to the contest’s Luxembourgish presenter, it was shown in the same Eastern Bloc countries as last year, plus Morocco and Romania. This makes it the first Eurovision to be broadcast outside of Europe.
The TV airing of this contest started with a lovely orchestrated arrangement of “Poupée de cire, poupée de son”, the winner last year, which began a common pattern of revisiting the contest’s prior hits at the start. It also began the controversial pattern of bloc voting—countries giving maximum points to their closest cultural neighbors. I’ll have lots to say about this topic when I analyze the voting results over the years. Lastly, it was the first year where the language rule was enforced. Aside from Sweden’s song in English last year, there had been a few songs with verses in English or French, but for the next seven years, non-native languages were limited to brief phrases.
I watched the contest with French commentary this time.
* Yes, I know a small part of Turkey is in Europe.
Germany: Die Zeiger der Uhr
Artist: Margot Eskens
Language: German
Key: G major, A♭ major
The title of this song means “the hands of the clock”, but “Zeiger” only means “hands” in the context of clocks. The word more literally means “pointers”.
Anyway, this contest kicks off with a piano and strings ballad about the passage of time, which always goes forward and never backward. It’s decent and she has a good medium-dramatic voice, but it’s weighed down by the low amount of rhyming. I know German is hard to rhyme in, but that’s why clever rhymes in German are so satisfying to hear. Rhyming isn’t fully necessary to make a memorable song, but it helps massively.
Denmark: Stop – Mens legen er go’
Artist: Ulla Pia
Language: Danish
Key: E♭ major, F major
The intro is first big band, then slow strings, which tells us this song will alternate between both styles in the verses and choruses. It does so indeed, and it feels very much like a kids’ movie song. This is helped by the lyrics: the title means “Stop – while the going’s good”, and it’s about a girl stopping to appreciate her love after returning from a prom. I don’t know why so many Nordic countries made storytelling songs in their own languages, but it’s a charming pattern. These lyrics are unlikely to be understood outside the Nordic countries, but the countries that do understand them vote them highly. Danish, Norwegian, and Swedish are mutually intelligible, and many Finns can understand Swedish.
This might be the first Eurovision song to feature backup dancers who don’t even sing. They’re a man and woman dancing together, and they enter the stage during an instrumental break. It would make so much more sense if the dancing woman was the same as the singer, but maybe Ulla Pia wasn’t confident in her dancing skills. This means the backup dancers feel disjointed from the rest of the song.
Belgium: Un peu de poivre, un peu de sel
Artist: Tonia (Arlette Antoine Dominicus)
Language: French
Key: A major, B♭ major
The title means “A bit of pepper, a bit of salt”. I was hoping it would be a whimsical song about cooking, but it was not meant to be. For you see, the next line after the title is “un peu d’amour, un peu de miel” (a bit of love, a bit of honey). The title was only a lead-in to a romance song about winning a boy’s heart using a love potion. Fortunately, this Belgian entry is actually good for once! They finally moved past the generic ballad formula and sent something upbeat and poppy. I like the singer’s hand gestures, and I can tell they were greatly rehearsed. Even if it’s misleading about the theme, the song’s title works super well as a hook.
The lyrics of this song are interesting because they don’t match any scenario that could happen in real life. It’s about a girl who visits a sorcerer, gets instructions to make a love potion, feeds it to her crush, and voila! They’re in love! Most of Belgium’s best-known entries have some amount of whimsy, as does this song; it seems this is what they do best. If I was a Eurovision fan in the 60’s, I would have found it miraculous that Belgium sent something interesting.
Luxembourg: Ce soir je t’attendais
Artist: Michèle Torr
Language: French
Key: B♭ major
This song is surprisingly upbeat for its title, which means “Tonight I was waiting for you”. It feels more focused on the excitement of waiting for her love interest than the dread of her love not coming. It’s more positive in tone than most songs in any prior Eurovision contests. I sense an increase in upbeat songs in this contest, and it was likely caused by Luxembourg’s victory last year. A song with the same title in an older contest would have been much more dreary.
Yugoslavia: Brez besed
Artist: Berta Ambrož
Language: Slovenian, the Dutch to Serbo-Croatian’s German
Key: B♭ major
Slovenian (also called Slovene) is the second Slavic language to appear in Eurovision, and one of two languages Yugoslavia sent songs in. They never sent anything in Albanian (spoken in Kosovo) or the controversial Macedonian language/dialect* because of the poverty of those regions. Most Slavic languages sound about the same to me, but Slovenian has a tiny bit of Italian-like twang. I really respect that Slovenia still frequently sends songs in their own language. Over half of their songs since 1999 have been at least partly in Slovenian, and among those, most are completely in Slovenian. I wish other countries in Eurovision were more like Slovenia, especially Germany.
This song is most notable for a similarity to a more famous entry in 1973, “Eres tú” from Spain, one of my favorite Eurovision songs of all time. Specifically, the melody of this song’s verse somewhat resembles the chorus of “Eres tú”. Some people think this means “Eres tú” plagiarized “Brez besed”, and I fucking hate that mindset so much and think it’s the dumbest shit ever. I especially hate that it’s got real songs into legal trouble. People make songs that sound similar to each other ALL THE TIME, WITHOUT THINKING ABOUT IT! Why do you think there are so many mashups of songs that sound similar?
Anyway, this is an alright ballad whose title means “Without words”. It does have a loosely similar vibe to “Eres tú”, but it’s nowhere near as well-composed or memorable.
* It’s heavily debated whether Macedonian is a dialect of Bulgarian, or a separate language. I’ll treat them as two different languages for the sake of this post series.
Norway: Intet er nytt under solen
Artist: Åse Kleveland
Language: Norwegian
Key: F minor
This is the only Nordic entry whose points didn’t come mainly from other Nordic countries, and it reached a respectable third place. I can see why: this song does something different from the rest. It’s a mysterious sounding guitar piece in 5/4 (or 5/8?) time, and the singer has a deep, resonant voice. Plus, she’s the first female contestant to wear pants instead of a dress! It’s not a winner and it’s not iconic, but the uniqueness of this song may have helped give variety to later contestants’ outfits. After all, today one of Eurovision’s trademarks is the outlandish costumes.
Finland: Playboy
Artist: Ann-Christine Nyström
Language: Finnish, despite the singer’s Swedish-sounding name
Key: B major, C major
Hey, we now have a song whose rhythm fits with the Finnish language well! Unlike Germanic languages, lyrics in Finnish fit best with an even rhythm where most notes are the same length. It’s upbeat and playful, if a little on the short side, and it’s about a woman who isn’t interested in dating rich playboys. It also has an English version, which feels like an English cover of a song that clearly wasn’t originally in English. I find those types of covers rather charming.
This song got three points each from Denmark and Norway and one from the Netherlands. If Denmark and Norway wanted to throw Finland a bone, considering Finland’s poor performance in prior contests, I’m not sure I can blame them.
Portugal: Ele e ela
Artist: Madalena Iglésias
Language: Portuguese, which I think of Spanish: Hard Mode
Key: D major, E♭ major
I should stress that I think the difficulty of learning languages is entirely subjective, with one exception: languages where you must memorize thousands of individual characters. That is objectively an ordeal. Still, given comparisons I’ve seen between the two biggest Iberian languages, Portuguese has a more complex spelling system than Spanish and the pronunciation doesn’t match the letters as closely, but structurally the languages are very similar. In this sense, it’s very much like the hard mode of a video game—the fundamental experience is the same.
It seems like most countries went for something upbeat this year, and Portugal is no exception. This song has a few catchy instrumental hooks, but the lyrics don’t feel quite as cohesive—at least, from an auditory perspective. The lyrics tell a simple love story between “him and her”, which is what the title means.
Austria: Merci, Chérie (the winner)
Artist: Udo Jürgens, for the third year in a row
Language: German, with a few repeated phrases in French; does this count as “Frallemand”?
Key: F major
The first German-language winner of Eurovision cheats a little by having a hook and title in French. Still, I’m happy we got a winner in this wonderful language early on. It’s a well-composed piano ballad inspired by the French chanson formula, where the singer thanks a love interest who he sadly must leave behind. It’s one of two Eurovision winners sung in German, and the second one from 1982 has more of a German feel to it.
In the three years in a row he participated, Udo Jürgens didn’t try reinventing himself or his songs’ presentation. All three of his entries are about the tragedy of ending a romantic relationship, and when he perfected the formula, he achieved victory. His first song was very melancholic, his second was a little less so and had live piano, and he struck the right balance on this song while still playing piano. It’s much like how some of the contestants who would have participated in Eurovision 2020 sent a song with a similar vibe for 2021, so that they could get a second chance. Iceland’s contestant from those two years is a great example.
You know the drill. Popular Eurovision winner from the 60’s, tons of alternate language versions. It’s unsurprising that this song has a French version, and it’s also unsurprising that it feels like this could have been the original language. This time, I don’t really care about listening to the other language versions, because it stands on its own just fine.
Sweden: Nygammal vals
Artist: Lill Lindfors and Svante Thuresson
Language: Swedish, since they were now forced to use it
Key: G major
It’s a rite of passage for any Eurovision country to send at least one song that’s as shamelessly bizarre as possible. Think stuff like “Euro Neuro”, “Irelande Douze Pointe”, “Baila el Chiki-chiki”. Most countries’ weirdest entries were from the 2000’s and early 2010’s, but Sweden is a big exception. To find their weirdest entries, we need to forget anything they sent in the past two decades and go way back in the past. One of the strongest contenders for Sweden’s weirdest entry is this song from 1966.
This is a jazzy waltz duet between a man and a woman, with lyrics telling a folktale. Among Swedish speakers, the lyrics are famous for words so bizarre and old-timey that even they have trouble understanding it. It’s fun, it’s whimsical, it blends folklore with relative modernity plus some fun flute solos. It takes the Nordic style of storytelling songs from the 60’s, and cranks it to the extreme. It’s the kind of bizarre entry with a lot of charm to it.
Why was Sweden exempt from the pattern of bizarre entries from (roughly) 2000 to 2012? I think the bigger and more consistent a country’s national selection is, the more likely they are to send normal, broadly appealing songs to Eurovision. Sweden has the biggest, most consistent national selection of all: aside from their first year (1958), every time Sweden participated, they sent the winning song of their own gigantic competition called Melodifestivalen. It’s the most talked about of all Eurovision selections, sometimes described as “a little Eurovision before Eurovision”. The popularity of this event means that Sweden’s entries these days are highly unlikely to be bizarre. They’re best known for widely accessible dance songs that normally score highly; on the occasion they don’t, Swedish fans will get pissed.
Spain: Yo soy aquél
Artist: Raphael (Miguel Rafael Martos Sánchez)
Language: Spanish
Key: D minor
The title means “I am the one”, and the lyrics are a massive expression of love towards the person the lyrics are addressed to. Since the instrumental is a minor key ballad, the lyrics come off as uncertain and doubtful whether his love interest loves him back. If the instrumental was more upbeat, the lyrics would seem like a triumphant celebration of love. The verses are in minor key, and the chorus seeps into major key. Spain’s entries have a penchant for dramatic vocals and hand gestures, somewhat like Italy but with their own Spanish flavor. The vocals in this song are so over-the-top dramatic, I can’t help but laugh a little.
Switzerland: Ne vois-tu pas ?
Artist: Madeleine Pascal
Language: French
Key: F major
Two songs confessing to a love interest in a row! This is in a lighter, more romantic mood than the last one, and the title means “Don’t you see?” Madeleine Pascal sings that she’s no longer a child and now loves her childhood friend as more than a friend. I can’t decide whether I think the song is about romance or strong friendship. Everything about the song, as well as the fact that it’s a song, points to romance, except the lyrics “l’on est, toi et moi, frère et sœur” (we are, you and I, brother and sister). Given that the song feels so romantic otherwise, maybe I should assume that “brother and sister” means extreme closeness in general, not an advocation for incest.
This song is too sugary and filled with clichéd tropes for my tastes, but I can appreciate the evolution in the general mood of this contest’s songs.
Monaco: Bien plus fort
Artist: Tereza Kesovija, a Yugoslavian this time
Language: French
Key: F major, A♭ major, F major, F♯ major
Strange fact: Tereza did not… oh mother fuck. When typing Tereza, I keep almost typing the name of a character from a certain webcomic.
Anyway. Tereza, DAMMIT I ALMOST MISTYPED AGAIN, did not speak French when she first moved to France in 1965. It sounds like her singing skills compensated whatever difficulty she may have had learning French in time for this song.
Strange fact 2: The French commentator accidentally skipped a page when reading his notes, and almost announced that the Italian singer was up next. I am imagining an extremely impatient Italian viewer in the 60’s who only cared about his own country’s song, grumbling a little. Well, that Italian viewer would have to live in France and speak French.
Normal fact: This is almost another “this is how much I love you” song, but it’s more of a “this is how much you and I love each other” song with the same general vibe as the last two. I do like the alternation between keys, but man, I hope the next song is something different.
Italy: Dio, come ti amo
Artist: Domenico Modugno, returning from 1958 and 1959
Language: Italian
Key: A minor
Domenico Modugno’s role in Eurovision history consists of contrasting extremes. He gave us Italy’s most iconic entry ever, the first “wait, that was Eurovision?” song in the history of Eurovision, and he scored reasonably high the next year. This time, however, he gave Italy their only zero-points score in Eurovision history. There was a whole bunch of controversy where he changed the arrangement last-minute and almost withdrew from the contest. Since it was too soon to replace him with the winner from two years ago, the EBU begrudgingly let him perform the new version, which was the first Eurovision entry not performed by an orchestra. Instead, a three-person ensemble of piano, guitar, and I’m guessing synthesizer played it.
The guitar notes at the start keep sounding like bleeps from the TV at first, until the pitch bends and they quiet down. Seriously, the resemblance to beeps is uncanny. Otherwise, the lyrics are “this is how much I love you” cranked to the extreme, thankfully in a different musical style from the others. Unfortunately, I think the simplicity of the instrumental compared to the orchestra that backed all the other songs cost this song its points. This is a shame because the song stands by itself perfectly well.
France: Chez nous
Artist: Dominique Walter
Language: French
Key: G major, briefly E♭ major
The fun thing about knowing French is I can amuse myself by pretending the repeated title is not “chez nous” (where we live), but “genoux” (knees). It helps lighten the mood of this song, because the lyrics are ridiculously patronizing to his love interest. It even has a sentence that means “in Europe, the boys court the girls”, a double whammy of Eurocentricism and sexism. I find it hilarious that this song got one point from France’s tiny neighbor Monaco, which feels like it was given out of pity, and nothing else.
My biggest annoyance with this song is not the lyrics, but the completely abrupt key change from G major to E♭ major. It only lasts a few measures and occurs only once in the song. It doesn’t make much sense musically, and the key change abruptly ends like it never even happened. Why even put it there?
The trio of female backing singers has a similar problem. All they sing is the song’s repeated title at a few points, and they’re ignored otherwise. This song is super unfocused and kind of sloppy.
Netherlands: Fernando en Filippo
Artist: Milly Scott (Marion Henriëtte Louise Molly)
Language: Dutch
Key: B♭ major, B major
The Netherlands has the distinction of sending the first singer of African descent to Eurovision. She’s a charismatic singer with a strong voice, but the song itself is one of this year’s most eccentric. It’s some sort of parody of Latin American pop music, with two guitarists on stage wearing sombreros (playing “Fernando and Filippo”), and it mixes storytelling lyrics with nonsense lyrics in the start, middle, and end. Milly Scott’s voice carries the song, and it isn’t that sticky or memorable otherwise.
Ireland: Come Back to Stay
Artist: Dickie Rock
Language: English
Key: A♭ major, A major
Both English-language songs are at the end this time. The French presenter seemed stumped on describing this song before it started: he said “c’est une, euh… ballade” (it’s a, um… ballad), then the song began. And it certainly is one. With the “dun-dun” piano chords and same time signature, I wonder if this was imitating “Non ho l’età”, the winner from two years prior. I feel like the ballads in this contest were inspired by the success of the winner two years ago, and the upbeat pop songs by the winner last year.
United Kingdom: A Man Without Love
Artist: Kenneth McKellar
Language: English
Key: D♭ major
This contest starts and ends with the countries I have the most personal connection to: Germany and the UK. Even though I haven’t been to the UK even once since I was a baby, there’s a small part of me that feels patriotic to their entries. That’s all part of the Eurovision experience. I think many American viewers have to stretch farther to find a country they can be patriotic towards; for instance, if they have an Italian last name, they might have an instinct to root for Italy.
Anyway, Kenneth McKellar wore one of the most unusual costumes of this contest. He wore Scottish traditional dress complete with a plaid skirt. I can tell from his voice that he was trained an opera singer. It’s more memorable than the other song in English, but as far as opera-style songs in early Eurovision go, this doesn’t leave a strong impression on me.
Who’s my favorite?
After three years in a row of instantly choosing my winner, it’s so refreshing to have a challenge again. This time, I’ve picked out three contenders: Belgium, Norway, and Sweden. A quirky storytelling song, a musically unique guitar tune, and another quirky storytelling song. To decide on a favorite, I need to assess my reasons I’d want to award it the prize. I really want to throw Belgium a bone after being so hard on their prior entries, but I’m torn whether I find it the right degree of whimsical, or overly zany. Norway would be a cool choice due to its uniqueness, but part of me would rather choose something stickier with more hooks. Sweden’s song is incredibly fun and jazzy, but my brain is telling me it would be boring to choose Sweden over and over. Then I thought about it logically, and I realized I’ve only chosen Sweden as my favorite once so far, just like Norway. With my only argument against choosing Sweden dispelled, I’m proud to award this year’s prize to Sweden, Nygammal vals.
- Denmark, 1
- Germany, 2
- Luxembourg, 2
- Netherlands, 3
- Norway, 1
- Sweden, 2
- (5 winners)
Seven different countries had won the contest up to this point, but my list only has six countries. I hope as many different countries as possible get on the list someday!
General thoughts:
Wow, this year might have been the most fun to analyze so far! There was tons of variety in music, with a hearty mix of playful pop songs, storytelling songs, the usual ballads prevalent in any Eurovision, and miscellaneous whimsy. Although I didn’t choose Austria as my favorite, it’s a worthy winner and a nice payoff for Udo Jürgens’ attempts at perfecting the formula. The results of the contest were full of broken patterns. Belgium and Norway performed highly for once, while France and Italy scored surprisingly low, proving a big-name country won’t automatically score high and still needs to send something appealing.
This was also the first Eurovision where the audience couldn’t quite keep their composure, especially during voting. The audience broke into laughter whenever Nordic countries gave each other points, and there was often eager applause when Luxembourg and Austria got five points. In previous contests’ voting, the audience only applauded when the host country gained points. The more popular Eurovision got, the more zealous its audience became. You can’t forget the legendary “Good night, London… no, good evening, London!”, “Good morning, Luxembourg.” exchange between the presenter and the British jury. It proves this contest was a major step towards the goofy absurdity Eurovision is today known for.
Udo Jürgens and his conductor exchanged a long hug on stage, further matching the enthusiasm Eurovision is now known for. And to bring this contest where it started, France Gall (whose song was performed by the orchestra at the beginning) started the tradition of last year’s winner handing the prize to this year’s winner. Udo Jurgens said “merci, jury”, performed his reprise, and that was that.
See you next time for the first ever British victory, and the second winning song about puppets.
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