Eurovision. I Don't Get It Either.

Ukraine. I still don't get it.

But I Love It

by Jo Michelmore

It comes to this time of the year (my favourite time of the year) and the comments start rolling in, the messages start increasing and the texts are never ending. Eurovision time. For me, better than Christmas. Better than Easter, better than Hanukkah, better than Chinese New Year, better than St Patricks Day, Mardi Gras and Oktoberfest. Better than the Queens Birthday long weekend. Combine all of them and it's better than that. Tis that time of year for my favourite thing, ever, ever.

Eurovision. You go to Sweden to see one once and everyone thinks you're an expert. I'm not complaining about that, I probably do know a little more than your average punter. And this year, even Australia gets to compete.

Yes, Australia, which isn't part of Europe. At all. I know. I don't get it as much as you don't. But the truth is, Eurovision? I didn't ever get it.

Germany sent gold sequined cowboys and disco girls sounding like S Club 7 in 2000. I didn't get that.

Finland sent a guy named Paradise in 2011. His song started with the words "Peter is smart, he knows each European country by heart". I didn't really get that. 

Spain sent a guy in 2008 who played 'Old McDonald' on a plastic toy guitar, I think (hope) he wore a wig and said "chiki chiki" a lot. I didn't get that, not even a little bit. 

Greece sent a bunch of guys dressed in futuristic medieval suits singing about passwords in 2002. I don't know their passwords and I certainly didn't get that.

Lithuania sent six businessmen to tell everyone they were the winners in 2006. They came sixth. I really didn't get that.

And Romania sent a operatic dubstep vampire to compete in 2013. That's the year I went and I still don't get it. But the thing about Eurovision is, that's all exactly what I love about it. Bad dancing, terrible costumes, sequins sequins sequins, awful lyrics, confusing pop and even more confusing rock, political voting, women with beards (don't tell me those Russian grannies didn't have facial hair issues) and glitter. Oh so much glitter. I don't get any of it and I don't want to because I ADORE it. In my dream world, it would be Eurovision day every single day of the year. Or I'd get to go every year. Or if nothing else, Guy Sebastian wins this year, so Australia can send someone as equally as awesome as Jedward next year. I never thought I'd say it, but pleeeeeeeeease win Eurovision Australia!

I know, I know. The hair. The shoulder pads. The bouncing. I don't get it either. But I LOVE it.

The A to Z of Pop - E is for Europe, Maybe

Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeek...

The A to Z of Pop

by Jo Michelmore

When thinking about the fifth instalment of the A to Z of Pop, I had only one thing in mind, because, well, really, it's only just happened and you all know how much I love it. I shouldn't even have to say it, but I will; Eurovision. While I reeeeeeeally wanted to write a post about my favourite night of the year and everything fabulous about it, I'm going to assume our readers are intelligent, politically aware music loving readers who have already read more than enough about this year's competition. Instead of boring you with those details, I have decided to visit the fabulous continent that Eurovision is held in and explore some of the best/worst (up to you) Europe has offered the world in pop, amongst other things. 

Let's begin on the far left, with the UK, (yes, for the purposes of this post let's say they are part of Europe everyone) and in the early 90s they gave us an interesting version of pop. 

This is what the UK have to offer to the world in the form of the letter E. Earl Grey tea, Earl Grey himself, English muffins (are they actually English?) and East 17. Named after the postcode of their hometown, Walthamstow, which these days is more famous for it's homeless mattrii and celebrities who like to dress like them. Like E17 member, Brian Harvey....

Travelling a little further north, from the land that offered us Bjork and.....Bjork and....well, there's Bjork...

There's also 'E-jork'. Ok, it was tempting just to change Bjork's name, but E-jork doesn't really make sense and thos Icelandics have given us Emiliana Torrini, who performed possibly one of the most annoying songs I've ever been (un)fortunate enough to hear. "My heart is beating like a jungle drum onburuburobummbummbumm"...is that Icelandic for "dumbadumbadumbabumdum" or is that actually "onburuburobummbummbumm"??? We may never know.


Let's move across the continent to that beautiful land that offered us escargot and...no wait, are they French? The Eiffel Tower is in France but...

Eiffel 65 were Italian. I don't know and I don't want to know, so don't ask me why they named themselves after one of the most famous towers in the world. Maybe because Colosseum 65 didn't have the same ring.


You knew where this was going to eventually lead, didn't you? It was bound to happen, considering the person who won last year's competition began with E as well...

Denmark's Emmelie De Forest. Which means that E has led us straight back to that thing I said I wouldn't mention in the first place...Eurovision. Just accept it, in my alphabet, E is not for Europe, it's for Eurovision. You might be over it, but I'll be singing this in my car (for at least another week). I'm so glad I wrote C is for Conchita back at week three. It's true even more so now, after all...

Eurovision 2015, I have to wait another 52 weeks for you? That's two more A to Z's. Noooooooooo....!

The A to Z of Pop - C is for Conchita (and a little for Cher)

The human C. Clearly actually impossible.

The A to Z of Pop

by Jo Michelmore

A to Z brings us to C and while there are a million pop stars I could write about for the letter C, I’m going to do something different, but go with me, you won't regret it. No, I am not going to write about the underrated, unending talent of Cher (although it was tempting).

It’s almost that time of year again, my favourite night of nights, a night that celebrates everything cheesy, glittery, sequined and awesome about Europe and it’s musical heritage. There is nothing about the spectacle not to love. I witnessed it myself last year, when one of my very best friends and I travelled all the way to Sweden to see it for ourselves. It was amazing. It was spectacular. It was everything I dreamt and much much more. It was this...

It's had it's fair share of controversy, old Eurovision, most of them political, but this year's controversy is as old as Eurovision itself and I take this one a little personally. Let me explain.


C this week stands for Conchita Wurst, the Austrian contestant for Eurovision 2014. Conchita is an ordinary contestant and her concept is not new to the worlds greatest* song contest (*matter of opinion).  Conchita Wurst is the drag name of Thomas Neuwirth, which is pretty irrelevant, I'm more interested in the pop and the pyrotechnics, but as a lover of Eurovision, I've been watching  developments closely and again this year, some certain countries/people/politicians/citizens of Europe with way too much time on their hands are calling for the whole contest to be banned/not telecast/Conchita to be jailed...the list of ridiculousness goes on and on. All because simply, Conchita is a guy with a beard, wearing a dress (and various other gorgeous drool worthy clothes I might say).

You know what I say to all those ignorant politicians/citizens/people?


Have you ever seen Eurovision? Have you ever been to Eurovision? Do you know what Eurovision is? Gender ambiguity has been part of the performances (and life in general) since well before Eurovision began. This isn’t new, but it’s fun.

Now, I take Conchita's controversy personally, because in Sweden last year at my own Eurovision experience, I was shown exactly what this night is all about. I sat next to a Russian girl who could barely speak a word of English and we waved an Austrian flag, while cheering on each others faves. We danced and clapped and took photos of each other and giggled like we'd known each other for years. I may never meet her again, but she was part of one of the greatest nights of my life so far and THAT my friends, is what Eurovision is about. Fun. People who don’t understand that are people I refer to as a word that starts with this week's letter.


They're all crackers. 


You can take your prejudices, take your transphobia, take your homophobia, take your xenophobia, take all your phobias, take your politics, take your misled beliefs, take your distaste for a good time and take it far, far away from Eurovision. In fact, just take it away, full stop.

Conchita, you know what Eurovision is about and this month I'm gonna find that Austrian flag I bought all the way home and I'm gonna wave it at my TV, for you, for Europe, for Copenhagen and for my little Russian friend, who hopefully is on the other side of the world doing exactly the same thing.


The A to Z of pop? C is for Conchita!

2013 - What You Couldn't Have Told Me

I googled '2013 music' and this appeared. I can't control these things.

If You'd Said...

by Jo Michelmore

If you’d said to me in January that I’d be sitting at my laptop less than a week before Christmas in December, listening to one of my new favourite bands of the year and writing my bazillionth (I never exaggerate) blog post for the year, I might have thought you were crazy. I probably would have believed you, but I still would have thought you were crazy. Don’t take it personally; I think a lot of people are crazy. I have proof: that Norwegian song 'The Fox (What Does The Fox Say)' was popular for a minute there. Anyway, I like most crazy people (hello Kanye) and if you’re crazy enough to be reading what I’ve written, chances are I like you too. I like you even more because you’re reading a blog all (generally) about music and music is amazing, but you already know I think that. How amazing is it? Well, this year, 2013, music made all of this…

If you’d said to me in January that I’d get tickets to a sold out Emma Louise gig about an hour or so before it started, that I’d sit next to a very large man (no, not Matt, he was on the other side) and discuss keyboardists with him, I'd have said you were crazy. If you’d said I’d see Sarah Blasko from a box seat, in the grandiose Concert Hall and if you'd said I’d probably shed a tear at the sounds of a symphony orchestra playing ‘Cast The Net’ and then, if memory serves me correctly, I'd do a couple hours of karaoke afterwards, I’d have believed you. What else would one do after such an emotional event?

If you’d said I’d dance and bounce for hours with a bunch of fabulous friends to The Presets, followed by some bizarre conversations with fellow drunken Presets fans...and then watched my friend lying about a gutter (fabulously attractively, of course) I’d have believed you. That kind of thing happens all the time. If you’d said I’d review that gig for this here blog and a quote from my review would be used months later to promote another Presets gig, I’d have thought you were crazy. I may also have squealed, a little. Or a lot. It was a lot.

If you’d said I would see one of my musical idols from the very front row, after a day of sun and dust and bad toilets and fattening food and warm diet coke and smelly, poorly dressed people as well as eight hours of bands I had little interest in, I’d have thought you were crazy. If you told me I'd hang out with K-Tizz and find the whole event hilarious and put up with it all for Shirley Manson and Garbage, I’d have believed you. I love Garbage. Duh. If you’d said I’d see The xx and probably lose some valuable hearing from the incredible bass sounds as I stood in front of the amps, I might not have heard you…and I might have thought you were crazy. If you’d told me I’d get to share the experience and see the reactions of my beautiful friends who adore The xx, I would have believed you, because sharing music with friends is one of the best things ever.

If you said I’d climb those stairs of the Black Bear a hundred times, get frisked at the door of X&Y, put up with the heat all year round at The Zoo, peered over peoples shoulders at The Hideaway, tripped up and down the stairs at the Hi Fi, stood almost alone in The Press Club, got squished at Electric Playground, danced at Oh Hello, finally got to the Northcote Social Club, travelled across the world and gone to a club in the daylight and left at sunset; all of these things to see so many amazing bands….if you said all of those things, I’d have believed you. I love live music. I'd go anywhere for it. If you told me the names of who I'd see, I'd think you were crazy for not being there with me.

If you’d told me how much music I’d discover this year, I’d have thought you were crazy. If you told me how much I’d come to love so many new bands, I’d have believed you. A love of music is unending. Just when you don’t think you can love anymore another song comes along to make you smile or send shivers down your spine and somehow there’s so much room for new love. If you'd told me how much I'd come to rely on new lyrics and new sounds to get me through the days, I'd have believed you. Music has always been what gets me through the day. Everyday it reminds me to do exactly what MTNS told me to do; "Put your feet back on the ground and just start walking..."

If you’d told me all that, I would have loved it all. But what you couldn’t possibly have told me was this. You couldn’t have told me how absolutely full of fun and adventure and love my life could become, when I lived a lifelong dream by going to Eurovision. You couldn’t have told me how much my face would hurt from smiling as I sat in an arena in Sweden and watched so much music, so much glitter, so many fireworks and had so much fun. You couldn’t have told me what it would be like to visit a bunch of countries I never dreamed I’d see, meet a bunch of people I never dreamed I’d meet, drink a bunch of beers I never dreamed I’d drink and you couldn’t have told me how much I’d love sharing all of that with one of my best friends in the entire world. Music is amazing, because music made that happen.

What you couldn’t have told me is what it would be like to stand in a building almost a hundred years old, in the very front row, drinking beer and lemonade and waiting for hours to experience a performance from a musician I idolise; Amanda Palmer, who made me laugh, who made me cry, who made me sing and who held my hand and danced, sung and smiled at me for a minute or so there. You couldn’t have told me how it would feel to have a moment like that, one that makes me smile and one I will always remember and you could never have told me how it felt to be able to know I shared that with one of my best friends in the entire world. Music is amazing, because music made that happen.

What you couldn’t have told me is how many times I’d laugh, how many times I’d sigh, how many times I’d smile, how many times I'd cry at all the things being a blog writer brings. What you couldn’t have told me is how I’d feel at reading the words of bands and musicians who write to say thanks for listening and sharing, how it feels to know some of your favourite performers have read your words, answered your questions and then shared them with their worlds. That is the best.

But most of all, what you couldn’t have told me is just how much I have come to love writing on this here blog about something I can’t live without, with a bunch of people I don't want to live without, who I admire and adore. That is something like music itself, which is indescribable and amazing and you know what else? It's our blog and it's our party, we can do what we want. Yeah, I just did that.


2013, you've been fab. With your ups, with your downs, with everything in between; it's been #fuckingamazing.

Where Is My Mind? - Well Not So Much Is...

Madonna has nothing to do with the following words. I just always loved this picture of her. 

This is MY blog post. Deal with it...

....But Where Has My Mind Been?

by Jo Michelmore

And so here we are, your final journey into wherever my mind is for 2013 and what a journey it's been. I remember when I first discussed with Matt the concept of wanting to write a new post, something with a little freedom that could take us anywhere where my thoughts took us. I remember having absolutely no idea where that might be. Now looking back, I love re-visiting the places I've been....


It started when I returned from Europe. You know I went to Eurovision this year right? Yes, I know you know, but do you reeeeeally know what that means? That means I saw this...

Yeah, I know, this was just another excuse for me to mention Eurovision, but as I've said many times this year, this is my post, deal with it. Regardless, after I returned from Europe we started this little journey into my thoughts and we started with The Pixies and the song that named it all...

...and then somehow my mind went into overdrive and I started talking about a boy I used to know and what I should have said to him all those years ago, and probably something I should say to a few other people I know right now...

...and then that bald guy led to thoughts of bald people which led to thoughts of Billy Corgan, of course, which led to thoughts about being a blogger and all it's benefits, of which there are many. Like the benefit of being able to tell everyone (hi four readers!) how much I don't like Coldplay...

...and then that song took me through a whole conversation about a dark mustard velveteen long sleeve top wearer. See? Don't you enjoy the places I've taken you. I never said they were great, I just said they were interesting and yes, dark mustard velveteen long sleeve tops ARE interesting, godamn it. Anyway, that dark mustard velveteen long sleeve top wearer then took me to my own personal routine, which is generally  -


I work, I blog, I work, I go to gigs, I blog, I eat out, I blog, I holiday, I work, I blog, I have a lot of friends to drink tea with, I blog, I bake, I blog, I sleep every now and then, I blog


and somehow that led me to someone I still adore...oh Jack, oh sigh....

and strangely someone with especially bad hair took me to my own hairstyle, which turned into someone else I adore with some very famous facial hair, Freddie Mercury, who sported a facial hair style loved and admired by our own K-Tizz...

...which somehow took us straight to the 90s and a group not so much known for their facial hair at the time...

...which obviously took me to dreams of California, and no one thinks of California without thinking of notoriously bad (plastic surgery, fake tans, Hollywood) and notoriously good (Miley Cyrus?) things...

...which took me straight to my very favourite title of any of my posts, ever. Ready? Let's relive it again.


'Haim, Not Ham'


C'mon! That's comedy genius! You know you laughed out loud! C'mon! I've been to all sorts of other places too and you've loved them all! Like you've loved Katie's Sizzle, Nayt's Candy Shop, Matt's 10 and 1's (yes, that Ke$ha Goes To Dinosaur Land was comic gold), glimpses into the life and drinking habits of Lou and her amazing reviews and my posts.  Regardless of where we've all taken you in 2013, thanks so much for reading (Mum). You, dear reader(s), you know what? You rule. Until next year, where I promise to take you to all sorts of fabulous and not so fabulous places...

You Wanna Go To Eurovision?

EUROVISION 2013:

The Benefits of Crazy Ideas...

by Jo Michelmore, living it up in Europe!

Eurovision. It's done. It's over for another year. I explained the beginning a few weeks ago, just a simple Eurovision gathering in a friends lounge room last year and an innocent conversation turned into an adventure I had only ever dreamt of, but it's happened. I have been to Eurovision. At the thought of the idea, I was questioned; "You're doing what?" and some mocked, but those that got it really got it and something that sounds so complicated from somewhere as far away as Australia was actually so very simple.


That conversation, "you wanna go to Eurovision?" and the answer "why not?" turned into the holiday of the year and a night I'll never forget. Sometimes crazy ideas really are crazy and that's what makes them the best and sometimes crazy ideas teach you valuable lessons.


Sweden is a beautiful country and Malmö, host to this years Eurovision was breathtaking, but this isn't a travel blog, so I'll save those stories for somewhere else. However, in the cobblestone streets of that delightful little town is where my Eurovision experience truly began. I witnessed a little teen hysteria first hand. When you see cameras and minders and hear girls squealing in the street, you just have to investigate. A little running, dodging of traffic, a couple of Swedish apologies and what we found was a group of people gathered around a cute boy, who we later found out was Robin Stjernberg, Sweden's entry in Eurovision and runner up in Swedish Idol. It's funny how hysteria works, because even though I had no idea who he was, a little teenage part of me wanted a photo....


Lesson one: when you hear teen hysteria, investigate. You can only be rewarded and trust me, it's hilarious.

 

That excitement done, next we stumbled across Julia Zemiro, host of Australia's telecast of Eurovision. It was probably the loud Australian accent that gave it away, Julia with bags of shopping and a girl, chatting so excitedly to her about how she'd traveled all this way to see the spectacle. I'm sure Julia is a lovely lady, but my friend and I watched from a distance and witnessed the slow backward movements Julia was making, trying desperately to get away so she could finish her shopping, have a coffee and buy another souvenir. Just seeing her in the street was enough for us, it made Eurovision seem like an actual reality. It was. It actually was.


Lesson two: people on the TV like shopping in peace too. Don't bother them too much. They need a Sweden snowdome as much as the next tourist. Leave them be.

 

Malmö Arena is not large, but the excitement that surrounded it at Eurovision time was massive. The crowds were covered in flags of every country imaginable (European and various others) and the positive vibe of the fans is not like any I've experienced at any gig before. I've no idea of most of what was being said or sung around me, but it was all being done with a smile, so I like to think it was all good. Someone handed us flags, I have no idea which country they represented, but that flag was waved at every opportunity, just like the magical light up wristband we were given as a memento. It's not hard to have fun at Eurovision, the pop beats are addictive and the songs are simple; don't think, just enjoy.


Lesson three: sometimes the karaoke rule applies to other aspects of life too. Open heart, open mind and everyone has fun.

 

The girl that sat next to me in the arena was alone. She showed me her ticket and in broken English asked me if she was in the right seat. I said yes and we proceeded to have a conversation about how we all got to Eurovision. She was from Russia and had traveled to Sweden that day just to see her favourite singer, Dina Garipova. She loved that we were all the way from Australia and when we said our fave was Denmark, she agreed to cheer loudly when they performed. We did the same for our new Russian friends fave.


Lesson four: Sometimes it's worth chatting to strangers. You never know, you might end up dancing to cheesy pop music with them and that's unforgettable.

 

The night was too short, but at the end my face was hurting from smiling so much. There was glitter, there were fireworks, there was a giant man and some cute boys, there were undisguised political statements, a lot of choreography, there was Loreen and a whole lot of hilariously catchy pop songs. It's a once in a lifetime experience I hope to make a two, three, four and more times in a lifetime experience.

 

Ultimately, the biggest lesson is this. Sometimes you or someone you know are going to have some crazy ideas in life. Don't ignore them. Remember those crazy conversations. Have them again and again. Take those ideas and follow through with them, make them reality, turn them into memories you'll never forget. What do you have to lose? If they don't work out you'll have a really good time planning them. Thankfully, my love of all things music took me to a holiday far away from home, to places I may never have visited otherwise. Eurovision is now forever one of those crazy ideas I brought to life...and a whole bunch of hilarious memories and stories that my beautiful friend and I will share for a long time.

 

Here's a crazy idea. Eurovision 2014? We're going. Anyone else interested?

It's All Coming Back To Me Now - Eurovision. How I Love Thee.

"Wanna Go To Sweden?"

By Jo Michelmore

It's that time of year again. Eurovision. How I love thee.  The whole concept appeals to me in so many ways. The strange and varied performances, the music, the dancing, the sequins, the glitter, the pyrotechnics, the bad choreography, the terrible lyrics and the sometimes awful singing, there’s so much to love. 

Last year, I drank warm beverages, ate chocolate biscuits and watched Eurovision at a friend’s house, because Eurovision should always be a social event. The winner, Sweden, was predicted by my friend and not surprisingly, they won, because well, it’s perfectly pop and perfectly Eurovision. 

During the extensive voting and counting process, my friend and I discussed how fun it would be to actually go to Eurovision, to see the glitter and sequins and all this kind of ridiculousness first hand.

 

 

When Loreen was announced as winner, a thought popped into both our heads.

“I could go to Sweden” I said.

“Yeah, I’d like Sweden” he said. 

“Wanna go to Eurovision?” I said….and the rest is now history, because this week, my beautiful friend and I hop on a plane and head to our first ever real life Eurovision experience. Excited much? Yes. Yes I am.

Imagine the things I could witness, like in 1990, when Spain’s backing track didn’t work properly so the performers, Azuca Moreno just walked off stage. Brilliant. Please let me see something like this! 

 

Or the German entrant from 1998, Guildo Horn. He’s old, he’s balding, he’s singing a song with his own name in it, he strips out of his pale blue velveteen suit mid-way through and then, when you think it can’t get better, he starts playing the bells. It’s weird, it’s Eurovision, it’s awesome. Please let me see something like this!

 

Or another German entrant, Stefan Raab, from 2000, probably the creepiest entrant I’ve seen. I just don’t know where this was going and no matter how many times I see it, I still don’t quite get it. Were they taking the piss? I can't decide. Cowboys? Sequins? Disco? Rap? What? Please let me see something like this!

 

But mostly; mostly I want to see something like In Culto, Lithuania’s entry in 2010, which is probably my second favourite entry of all time. Five boys, fake instruments delivered by a stage hand half way through and then, when you think it’s kind of average, at 2:10, things get real. Please, please, please let me see something like this! 

 

…and just in case you were wondering, yes, my favourite entry of all time is future vintage, performed only two years ago in 2011 by Eurovsion entrants that I will always have a soft spot for, Ireland. It’s Jedward and I still unashamedly love it.

 

Keep your eyes on the blog over the next couple of weeks, where you can enjoy a Eurovision review in the style we do best…text style and get yourself following itsmykindofscene on instagram, where you'll no doubetedly see some strange and interesting photos from Eurovision Sweden!