Most years, there’s (at least) one song that divides fandom. And (at least) one song that divides fandom from the rest of the world. Achille Lauro has just such a song.
Yes, I can see how it’s trashy and every kind of fabulous. I get how he’s incredibly sexy. There are boundaries being tested – and doubtless EBU producers are fainting clear away at the sight of Lauro grinding his crotch against his guitarist’s head. These are all reasons to write about or watch a Eurovision performance.
Not big, not clever
None of them are reasons to listen to it. It’s not big and it’s not clever. Worst of all, it’s not even vaguely original (not that this is overly vital in any competition).
The staging is calculated to convey subversion – from the overlaid graphics, to the pop art lips on the stage screens. Achille said he wants to bring a shock value, but nothing here shocked me. It’s all exactly what I expected from him.
I do hope it goes through, as the Big Show™ needs this level of variety to hold the Saturday night audience attention. Juries will likely bury what they rightly hear as a cliche-ridden dirge, many televoters will probably think otherwise. But like so much I’ve seen this year, it’s being written for and marketed at a perceived demographic – and that’s not usually the way to win.