Space Man – Sam Ryder
And so, as tradition dictates, we get to my home entry … and by tradition I clearly mean the alphabet. I’m not going to lie, I’ve been down down low with the UK of late. We always seem to say we are going to try something different, but end up with the same old mess. Instead of a banging club vibe for Mr Newman, we got styrofoam fucking trumpets, for Gods sake – that was not what that song needed. In fact, that song needed someone who could sing as opposed to write songs, but that is another story.
We have finally, with the change of industry sponsor, got that. Sam Ryder writes and sings his own songs – this is a step up because he knows how to sell them. He loves the Eurovision – he seems so genuinely enthused about the whole experience on Twitter and in interviews. He’s even gone and got himself a following before the contest – 12 million or so Tik-Tubers or what ever the high-quality audio and visual content platform is called. And in a great move advocated by no lesser luminary than Eurovision Broadcaster Lisa Jayne Lewis herself, they released the song and didn’t tell anyone it was the Eurovision entry until it was leaked by all and sundry, cos the BBC and TaP cant keep a secret. Some things never change.
What has changed, though, is the calibre of song. In a year where talking about death or being a sadgirl is en vogue, Sam and his long surfer hair and cheeky smile have decided to sing a song about being in space, man. Musically, it has what could be described as a typical Eurovision formula – two verses, two chorus, bridge and a final ending bit – certainly nothing ground breaking, and if you were being particularly pedantic you could take issue with some of the astrophysics reference within the song (but I am not going to!). When you add the sum of the parts together PLUS his following PLUS his European tour PLUS his social media engagement. This has all the makings of a decent finish for old Blighty.
As I would say if I were there: “There is nothing wrong with that” – and there genuinely isn’t. This, traditional media, is what fan media have been crying out for for years: a credible song by a credible artist. I just pray that the BBC keep the fucking styrofoam models of the moon and astronaut suits as far away from Sam as possible; and I hope and pray that Sam and TaP are strong enough to say no.
Given a fair wind, the naysayers will be eating their words about no one liking us, and might, just might, realise what we have been saying all along – it’s a song contest – enter a good song!
Phil’s Score – 8 Points