I’m in love. An impossible love, because the object of my affection comes from a nest that I don’t really want to be associated with at all. You see, I love beautiful music, a necessity of life. So then a little Amsterdam yup with a hip record player, like me, turns up his nose at the Eurovision Song Contest. But now I’m completely convinced. ‘Welcome to Europe, stay here until I die, Euro-pa-pa, Euro-pa-pa‘.
No, I’m not kidding. I have two songs in my very large Spotify list that I consider worthy: the classic Waterloo by ABBA and the always upbeat Ding-a-Dong by Teach-In. Oh, wait, also Maggie MacNeal with Amsterdam, on my Mokum pub list. But it is. No, that damned Eurovision song contest, a cruel musical circus full of childish nonsense pop, only tolerable with a lot of booze and a bowl of false note mix, where 99 percent of the winners are doomed to have to lip-sync one and the same song for the rest of their lives to traveling sing-along shows in faded concert halls in rainy B-cities for an audience of long-time tipsy superfans. They once dreamed of becoming the new ABBA.
Soul
Until now. I heard the song after its release, hoping for another grotesque self-righteousness about the Eurovision Song Contest. But with the force of a sledgehammer, I was offered a song that I had been waiting for. For so long. An ode to my beloved Europe, performed by a sympathetic guy who enjoyed it. A cheerful Frisian, with the catchiest tune since the Nokia ringtone. That blue suit, that dance, that chopping, that sweet ending. All kinds of music experts are brought in who see musical borrowing, but they are wrong. It is a completely original variation on an important export product, tightly rhythmic Dutch noise. But with a soul this time. And that’s rare.
Travel Song
In a way, it’s also a beautiful travel song. After all, who doesn’t love our wonderful continent, with its pasta, castles, art, humour, and go crazy, democracies and health insurance? Broadly speaking, Europe is a wonderful continent with calluses on her old soul, the best food on her plate and a thoughtful head on her shoulders. We can’t say that everywhere, in which eastwards the first megalomaniac charlatan with a tiny dick has already been ‘re-elected’ and west across the pond that may also happen on November 5th.
So it’s high time for one European anthem for our nice little club of 27 countries. That’s how we do it in 21st century Europe. We got this. ‘I’ve really lost everything except the time. So I’m traveling every day, because the world is mine. Euro-pa-pa. Euro-pa-pa-pa-pa…
Fuck it, 13 points.
