The Lights Went Out. Now What?

In my not-so-humble opinion, most of the Eurovision songs are not strong enough to compete in a song competition.

There. I said it.

There are quite a few other aspects of the Eurovision Song Contest I’d like to talk about more, but I’ll stick to the most important one here.

Year after year, we see increasingly elaborate productions. We're presented with flashier lights and fancier costumes. The dancers are performing more complex choreographies, and the fireworks are getting bigger by the minute.

The spectacle is spectacular!

Whoopsie... we forgot about the song.

I agree that quality production is necessary. But I strongly feel that the production should elevate the song, not hide the absence of it.

Strip the performances of all the gold and glitter and ask yourself: how many songs would still have something worth finding underneath?

After being disappointed in most of the songs in the competition for several consecutive years, I’ve found myself measuring every song against my own made-up yardstick.

What would be left if the lights went out?

Are all the things that should be crucial to a song that’s competing in one of the world’s biggest—if not the biggest—song competitions still there?

Do we have lyrics that are worth listening to? A memorable melody? Interesting vocals? Or an outstanding performance by the singer? Would we remember any of that, or would we be blinded by the lights?

I’m not arguing that all the songs have to be acoustic and quiet, or that they should stay exactly the same when the lights go out. No.

I’m arguing that all those elements listed previously should still exist, and the song should be recognizable and presentable if we were to rip away the pretty-pretty packaging and take a peek inside.

In 1964, Gigliola Cinquetti sang the winning song, "Non Ho L'Età."

You could play with that light switch all you want; she’d still be singing, and the song would still be there, every part of it.

And I think that’s exactly what we should be looking for in a song that competes in a song contest. Something that doesn’t need covering up or distracting from in order to sound good.

I’m not saying the performers should never add any pizzazz to the visuals, but I am saying it should be decoration, not the foundation.

Take ABBA and "Waterloo." They were quirky, energetic, theatrical and loud. They had very showy costumes and fun props on stage.

But the fluff was there to add to the song, not to compensate for a lack of something. If we were to pull the plug during their performance, they would survive. They'd be less loud, for sure, but they'd survive.

The same goes for the 2009 winner, Alexander Rybak, and "Fairytale."

Yes, he had three dancers and two pretty girls on stage, but all they did was add a cherry on top of the already existing cake. You could remove all those elements and the song would still stand.

The songs that compete and win should be memorable enough on their own to live on after the fifteen minutes of fame has faded.

Now, let’s try that yardstick on a few other competitors throughout the years. Akylas’s "Ferto" from this year, 2026.

I’m not saying it’s inherently a bad song. No. I even agree that there is some depth to the lyrics and the message reaches me to some extent. But is it enough?

Imagine if the stage went dark and there were no more fluff. Is there a melody to remember? An unforgettable vocal performance to discuss with your friends? Anything? Or was the performance alive only thanks to the visuals? Was there more to the eyes than there was to the ears? And if so, does something like this truly belong in a song competition?

Let’s take another one—Hatari's "Hatrið Mun Sigra."

The room goes dark and you have no more blinking red lights or half-naked girls dancing. Is the actual song strong enough to stand independently?

For me, once the visuals that distract me from the song itself disappear, there's nothing left to come back to.

I'm not going to list all the songs I believe would fail the test—it would take far too long. But that is the lens through which I'm judging the songs.

By comparison, we could look at the 2006 winner, Lordi, and their "Hard Rock Hallelujah."

Let’s turn off the lights once again and listen to what we’re left with. This time I'd say we're left with an actual song—lyrics, a memorable melody and a distinctive voice.

Yet, theirs was a performance that relied heavily on their costumes, and perhaps they wouldn’t have won without them. It goes to show that the extravagant visuals have their place if they serve as decoration, not as a substitute for substance.

Sparkling visuals are fine as long as the song can stand without them. But it often seems to me that the stronger the song is on its own, the less it needs to be decorated with an over-the-top spectacle.

You might agree with me or you might curse me on the other side of the screen. You're allowed to do both.

I feel like there is a deep thirst for music that would survive a power outage, and the year 2017 proved it beautifully.

That year, among the glitter and the fireworks, between costumes that had more colours than the rainbow itself, there was a man.

Just a man in a slightly too big black blazer.

His name was Salvador Sobral.

He stood in the middle of the stage with a microphone, and the lights were dimmed.

He was alone.

No flashing colours, no dancers, no fireworks, no glitter falling from the skies.

He barely moved. All he had to work with was his voice, the melody and the lyrics in his own mother tongue.

He just stood there and gave the world a piece of his heart.

The world was enchanted.

I, for one, could not hold back tears. I still get goosebumps every time I listen to that song.

He made every person watching feel something. Most of the Eurovision audience didn't even need to fully understand the lyrics.

He made you feel the song.

That is the universal language of music.

And he won, receiving the highest score under the contest's current voting system. He’s still holding that record nine years later.

I think his win speaks volumes. It demonstrates that there is an enormous craving for music that touches the soul, but there are rarely any songs in the competition that fit the criteria.

So, if a quiet Portuguese ballad is able to win by a long shot, where does the problem truly lie? Perhaps the contestants have learned that the spectacle is simply a much easier way to make the song memorable than the hard work of actually writing a memorable song?

Of course, the "lights-out" test is a bit unfair, since Eurovision is television and the staging matters. The visuals are an important ingredient in all this. But that is exactly why I like it. It reveals quickly and brutally whether the performance has all the necessary elements or just the one that is the easiest to manipulate.

If the spectacle is the only thing that makes an otherwise forgettable song memorable, what exactly are we judging? The song? Or the sparkling packaging? The cover? Or the story between the covers?

Take away the lights, the costumes, the fireworks and see what remains.

Would your favourite Eurovision song survive a power outage?