The UK has a peerless reputation for producing some of the catchiest and most imaginative pop music on the planet. Little wonder that a dazzling and diverse roster of home-grown artists (pop stars in old money) have exerted dominance over the international music charts for decades.
Yet despite the fact we gifted the Beatles, David Bowie, Kate Bush and even the Spice Girls (well, they were massive) to the world, when it comes to producing a Eurovision winner, we are – to put it impolitely – absolute pants. And with this year’s contest only a few weeks away, our 2025 entry looks unlikely to change the status quo. In case you missed it – and it is entirely missable – representing the UK in Basel this month is country pop trio Remember Monday with their tune ‘What the Hell Happened?’.
The UK simply can’t or won’t take the competition seriously
What the hell indeed? The song is a dud. A chaotic smorgasbord of colliding styles, smacking of a tactical attempt to ‘game’ the Eurovision audience by appealing to different genres. But worse, much worse, is that there’s no hook. No singalong melody, dinga dong ditty or catchy chorus to buzz uninvited around your head. It’s a mess. And though Remember Monday do their best with strong vocals and tight harmonies, the end result makes you wonder if there’s a deliberate campaign by the team who select our entries to pick a turkey.
How can a country with such a deep gene pool of talented singers, producers and composers fail to deliver a three-minute slice of quality pop music?
Save for Sam Ryder’s joyous 2022 entry, ‘Spaceman’, our efforts in recent years have become a national embarrassment, as a cursory look at the scores on the doors reveals. In 2018, ‘Storm’ by SuRie came 24th out of 26. The following year, ‘Bigger than Us’ performed by Michael Rice actually came in last. Last! With just 11 points. Only to be succeeded in this humiliating hall of lame in 2021 when ‘Embers’ by James Newman netted null points. Zero, nada, zilch. It made last year’s result for the UK seem positively triumphant after Olly Alexander squeaked into 18th place with 46 points.
It wasn’t always so. From the 1960s to the late 1990s, Britain enjoyed a glowing scorecard, winning five times thanks to Lulu, Sandie Shaw, Katrina and the Waves, Brotherhood of Man and Bucks Fizz. We were Eurovision gold. The UK also holds the record for the most second-place finishes. So how did it go so badly wrong?
The easy response to the sharp decline in the quality of the UK’s entries is to blame geo-politics, to whine that nobody likes us. (Which is actually a great name for a song).
But it simply doesn’t wash. The truth is our songs have been rubbish – bland, derivative, forgettable and tuneless. A rap sheet for oblivion. Had we fielded catchy tunes which burrow into the brain and get sung at weddings from Brussels to Bratislava, then crusty debates about the wisdom of Brexit would have been forgotten. Just see the composers of the Macarena or the Ketchup Song for details.
Perhaps part of the problem is that the UK simply can’t or won’t take the competition seriously. Rather than regarding fielding our best work as a matter of national pride we sniffily dismiss Eurovision as a cheesy bit of kitsch. We’re embarrassed to take part, yet feel colonial enough to believe we should win. So we just lob another loser and stick our fingers in our ears screeching la, la, la.
Compounding matters is the fact that Britain can afford to be complacent. As one of five countries whose broadcasters are the contest’s biggest financial contributors we get a free pass to the final, while others have to take part in an unedifying scrap to qualify via the semis.
But ultimately, the blame must lie with the top-tier British songwriters and producers who steer clear of Eurovision. Too focused on critical acclaim to deliver something mainstream, they leave a vacuum which is filled by those less able to deliver. Clearly, a global audience of 200 million and the chance of massive royalties for the winner are not enough to tempt the likes of Ed Sheeran to give us a toon.
So, we are where we are. A nation of brilliant hit makers destined to bomb at the world’s biggest musical jamboree. Until there is a shift from the tone-deaf position of declared arrogance to one of full-on engagement, Britain will continue to face annihilation at Eurovision – and deservedly so.
Of course it would be churlish not to wish our entry the best of luck on 17 May. Though if we face another crushing defeat, a cheery postscript for performers Remember Monday: don’t fret. Your song will be forgotten by Sunday.
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