Recently in Eurovision Reviews Category

Ewan Spence continues to look at the discography and music of Eurovision entrants before and after they've appeared on the world's biggest television show.

There was a point when we Eurovision watchers didn't know that Alexander Rybak's 'Fairytale' wasn't going to win the Song Contest for Norway. I think it was just before he sung the track on the Norwegian National Semi-Final. The smart money was straight on his name at the Bookies the next morning. A few months later and the world realised what we had been telling them since that first performance.

"Welcome one, welcome all. To paraphrase a football song, Eurovision's coming home." So began Terry Wogan's commentary for the first British Eurovision in 16 years. It doesn't make sense of course. Eurovision's home is Lugano in Switzerland, where it all began in 1956 - or Geneva, the headquarters of the European Broadcasting Union - or even Dublin, the city which had hosted six of the 43 Eurovisions prior to this point. But not really anywhere in the UK. However, there was no denying that the events which took place inside Birmingham's National Indoor Arena on May 9, 1998, constituted the most anticipated Contest of recent years. Two of the 25 entrants were making headlines across the Continent in the weeks leading up to the event - and one of them would go on to win the competition.

It also marked the end of the United Kingdom's run as one of the most successful countries taking part in the competition. After 1998, there were very few glimmers of hope to be found as Blighty sank further and further down the scoreboard. But we won't worry about that here. Come with us now on a trip to the Midlands, where the British Broadcasting Corporation decided to be as non-jingoistic as possible and employ an Irishman and a Swede to host its last Eurovision to date, the winning singer won a unique glass bowl by Susan Nixon, the postcard films were a work of quiet genius and everybody laughed at a middle-aged Dutch lady.

I will never forget watching the 1997 Eurovision Song Contest. I was in my second year at Glasgow University, staying in a tenement flat not too far from the Botanic Gardens or the famous Byres Road (you really should try and do the pub crawl) which had rooms as big as ballrooms that were just as difficult to heat. Two days before the Contest was screened, Labour had swept to power after 18 years in the shadows and Tony Blair looked like the sort of bloke who could make Britannia cool again. With such a momentous seachange for Britain, it's understandable that the goings on between acts from 25 nations across the Irish Sea in Dublin's Point Theatre weren't going to register much on neither media radar nor national consciousness. But somehow, it did.

Topping off a week when, for Britain's non-Tory populous, things really could only get better - they only went and did. As though it was written fresh on the statute book in the burgeoning daylight of May 2, as though everyone had decreed it so to welcome in a new age, as though the rest of Europe suddenly realised we weren't so bad after all on this sceptred isle. On May 3, 1997, the United Kingdom won the Eurovision Song Contest.

And it's still the only one I've ever watched on my own.

Eurovision was getting a popular thing to be part of in 1996. So much so, there simply wasn't enough room to accommodate the 29 nations wishing to participate in Olso. With that in mind, the organisers staged a preliminary round in the months leading up to the show where a group of juries sat and listened to studio recordings of every song (bar hosts Norway, the only country sure of a spot on the big night) and voted on them as though it were a rather sterile version of Big Eurovision. This sorted everyone out, with Denmark, Germany, Hungary, Israel, FYR Macedonia, Romania and Russia all missing out on a place in Norway. By dumping Germany (whose Kraftwerk-ish song was tipped for great things beforehand), those juries had rather foolishly removed one of the largest potential audiences for the show before it had even begun and the 1996 Contest remains the only one so far not to have an entry from Deutschland.

When 23 nations did assemble in Oslo's Spektrum Centre on May 18, some who did badly in the preliminary round soared up the scoreboard, while others who scored very well when the juries were just listening to the CD version nosedived.

Don't worry, we're going to show you the placing in both rounds for each entry so you can draw your own conclusions...

Ten Contest. 336 songs. Fourteen debutante nations (or is it 12? After Serbia & Montengro appeared in 2004, then went their separate ways, do Serbia's and Montengro's subsequent independent entries count as two more debuts?).

From Israel's Ping Pong as the opening act in 2000 to Spain's Soraya as the singer which closed proceedings in Moscow this year, no other decade has had anywhere near as many Eurovision Song Contest songs as the Noughties.

Thanks to the semi-final system introduced in 2004, around 40 songs have taken part in the past six competitions, so as this final day of the decade dawns, it's even trickier than usual to decide which were the finest moments from the past 10 years of the Contest.

But by golly, we're going to try. Before we begin, I must hasten to add the following 'Best's are purely in Boom Bang a Blog's opinion. I look forward to you disagreeing with me in the comments section. Vehemently.

The film celebrating 40 Eurovision Song Contests which opened the 1995 event. Think of it as reminder of most of your Bluffer's Guides so far...

I wasn't impressed when Ireland won Eurovision for the third successive year in 1994. I therefore refused point blank to support the Irish squad who got to the World Cup in the USA that year (despite it being the tournament Graham Taylor couldn't lead England into) and, being young, naive and foolish, refused to like anything remotely linked with Ireland for the next 12 months. As I say, I certainly was young, naive and foolish as I have an Irish surname for a start.

Anyway, I'm sure you can imagine my reaction when smiley host Mary Kennedy appeared on stage at The Point - the only time the same venue has been used in two successive years - and welcomed viewers to "What has almost become the annual Eurovision Song Contest from Ireland."

I booed. Loudly. But the slightly smug tone Mary used when introducing everyone back to Ireland (again) would soon backfire on her. This was the year when some canny countries realised it was time to play the Irish at their own game. And win.

Loaded magazine once described the result of the 1994 Eurovision Song Contest as having the most blatantly rigged juries since the original Rodney King trial. It's a brilliant analogy, but it is unlikely that the bean counters at Irish telly would have thought a third successive win for the country would be a financial plus.

Although hindsight and hopefully, maturity, has enabled me to see the 1993 Irish victor as a worthy winner, I'm afraid I am still perplexed how the ploddiest-of-plodding songs won in 1994 - and won by such an epic margin.

Not that it really mattered. The bit everyone remembers from 1994 came directly inbetween the entries and the voting.

When Linda Martin won in 1992, it must have been inconceivable that the Contest would be held anywhere other than Dublin in 1993. But an entrepreneurial equestrian centre owner had other ideas. He wrote to RTE, the Irish broadcaster, on the very night Ms Martin took the trophy, suggesting that the Green Glens Arena in the tiny County Cork town of Millstreet would be the ideal setting for the 38th Eurovision Song Contest. The people at the telly admired his brass and so it came to pass that the Contest was heading for its least populous host town ever. Millstreet in 1993 had a population of around 1,500.

And so, this lush speck on the map became the setting for one of the most highly publicised Eurovisions of the decade. Three former Yugoslavian states made their debut. Luxembourg said goodbye for good and Italy sort-of-did too. Switzerland had its last top five showing to date and the stage looked a bit like a paper plane.

But all that was overshadowed by one of the most nailbiting finishes ever, when the UK possibly counted the cost of snubbing the Maltese entry in Malmo.

When hosts Harold Treutiger and Lydia Capolicchio (that doesn't sound very Swedish) introduced the watching world to Eurovision 1992, the former described it as "the greatest gameshow in the world."

Boom Bang a Blog would like to think there's a bit more to the Contest than it being a glorified version of Bullseye - but there is a sense that, from this point on, Eurovision enjoyed a renaissance of popularity where its public appeal had slumped from the late '70s and much of the '80s.

Swedish rules then dictated that, in the event of a Eurovision victory, the city which hosted the national final that produced the champ would then stage the Contest proper. As Sweden's third city of Malmo played host to the 1991 Melodifestivalen, where Carola won the ticket to Rome, the destination of the 37th Eurovision Song Contest was therefore assured the moment Frank Naef announced that Fangad Av En Stormvind had more 10s than the French song with the very long title twelve months earlier.

How much you enjoy the 1991 Eurovision Song Contest depends on how much you enjoy watching an already lackadaisical production completely collapse around itself. The main hurdle concerning an Italian-hosted Eurovision is that the Song Contest itself was inspired by the San Remo Festival, the composition competition which remains big news in Italy each year and is held in much higher esteem across the wider music world than its pan-European little brother. With that in mind, why go to all the trouble of giving a hamburger the hard sell when you've got allcomers flocking to sample your sirloin steak?