All of my groceries are divided by weight and stored in glass jars

Citi Zēni
Eat Your Salad

I’m not, by all accounts, a very easy person to talk to.

The socially awkward chit chat I do do tends to be so laced with sneery, off putting West Midlands sarcasm that most people avoid me at all costs unless they (and I) are drunk – so for those that do attempt conversation, my Eurovision obsession at least offers SOMETHING to hang the opening gambit on. “Where is Eurovision this year”, they try, “Who’s our entry this year”, or “Are you going this year” are all standards, followed closely by “What’s your favourite ever entry?”

Well I just don’t know really- there’s these bewitching Maltese eyes from 2004, this Macedonian masterpiece from 2000 that sounds like your annoying little sister has formed a girl group in your kitchen, or perhaps the Swiss entry from 2004 when the lead singer was so excited that he smacked himself in the face with his mic.

What all of these selections have in common, of course, is that they are Schlager – simple, catchy, happy, melodious pop tunes, a genre that has sadly all but died out in Eurovision, except when people are being “ironic”. And nobody exemplifies that more than Latvian entry Citi Zēni.

An “award-winning” (as in “what do you want, a fucking award”) 6-piece band from Riga, the self-proclaimed “Princes of Rap” and “Divas of 21st Century Pop” are as well known for their “eccentric style” as they are for their “cheeky lyrics”.

Yep – in what I assume is a relatively desperate and childish attempt to get some publicity for the song, the opening lines to pop funk number “Eat Your Salad” are about cunnilingus:

“Instead of meat I eat veggies and pussy. I like them both fresh, like them both juicy.”


Jānis, Dagnis, Reinis, Krišjānis, Roberts and Toms have been suggesting in pre-contest interviews that their “daring” lyrics will “push the boundaries” of the contest, but they’re only daring in the same grubby, nasty, misogynistic way that 15 year old boys (and Tory MPs) watch porn without headphones on the bus.

And so marks the death of schlager. Once Eurovision represented an opportunity – a rare, fleeting, annual opportunity to see me smile in a genuinely joyous way about the world as I wriggled about and sung at the top of my voice and dad danced in obscure european ice hockey stadia to songs by discomforting boy/girl acts like Chanée and N’evergreen. Not any more.

My favourite’s La Det Swinge, by the way. La det swinge til du mister all kontroll! I can’t see Maneskin covering that in the interval, can you?

Published by

Jim Dickinson

@Wonkhe SUs. Trustee @WinchesterSU. HE policy. Pop. Pro EU(rovision). Windmills not walls. FRSA. Dreams of visiting Moldova. A brunch. Dressing up. A feeling.

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