It’s the day after Eurovision. For the first time in a decade, barring the pandemic years, I didn’t go. I didn’t watch the broadcast. I didn’t post along with the show. I didn’t blog about it. Other people have written about why that is – a government trying to game the results of a song competition to claim global endorsement of its policies – and I’m not going to rehash that here. There is clear evidence the voting system is broken, and the EBU now has another year to pretend that nothing needs to change.
The reason I fell in love with Eurovision is because it introduced me to new music, new artists, and new cultures. What is bothering me today is that songs that existed two days ago – by artists that were beloved by fans – are now being treated like they’re somehow flawed due to the results of the same voting system many of us have been criticizing all season.
Eurovision is, at its heart, a television show. Despite all the malarkey about being a contest established to bring together a war-torn Europe in the 1950s, its was actually established to test simulcast broadcast technology. There are going to be a lot of post-mortems of what “underperformed” based on things like betting odds, but the real metric for success should be – which songs made you fall in love? Taste is subjective. Eurovision is a week. But your playlists and mix tapes and enthusiasm for artists go on for months.
With that said, here’s some of the artists that I fell in love with – or more in love with – during this Eurovision season:
Rug!le – Ikona Zemaite
The best songs are ones that have a beat AND require you to go down a Wikipedia wormhole. Rug!le’s Ikona Zemaite applies stan culture to seminal Lithuanian author Zemaite (1845-1921), who wrote about the struggles of everyday Lithuanians in the Lithuanian language, at a time when Lithuania was not an independent state. The song celebrates her novel Marti (one of hundreds of her works) along with her time in Chicago raising money for Lithuanian causes. And, of course, she’s a Gemini! It’s a masterful marriage of modern-day pop girlies and cultural education.
Sara Kapo – Të dua shumë
Sara Kapo’s Të dua shumë (I love you so much) starts out as a throwback new wave pop song, with the hook “Zemër unë” (Darling, I) immediately getting stuck in one’s head, regardless of Albanian fluency. But about halfway through the song, her facade changes from coolness to one of desperation, with her vocals taking on an increasingly urgent tone as she smears makeup all over her lips. The shift in character in a three-minute song with absolutely no lyrics changing is a bravura performance.
Chiello – Ti Penso Sempre
Ti Penso Sempre (I Think of You Always) did not immediately win me over at this year’s Sanremo; rather than the song, I was more struck by the anime cat-ear hairstyle that Chiello sported as he slunk around the stage. But over the week, Chiello’s ode to heartbreak grew on me, and in the month after Sanremo, I found myself doing a deep dive into his back catalog, which is full of angst and confusion and thwarted love, all set to a lo-fi beat. It’s the perfect soundtrack for everyone who has too much emotion and no way to get it all out – as heard in his latest track, Vulcano, which starts with a charming piano intro and ends with a primal scream.
Legzdina – Ribbon
One of the controversies of this year’s Eurovision was around the lyrics of the song “Choke Me,” which the artist claimed were about anxiety, as if we all didn’t have eyes to read. For a more nuanced portrayal of complicated sexual dynamics, I wish Legzdina’s Ribbon had made it through Latvia’s Supernova competition. Legzdina first competed in Supernova 2025 with the duo Bel Canto, and I was thrilled to see her back as a solo artist this year. Ribbon is a song full of ambivalence and longing, reflecting desire and tradeoffs in situationships. “Grab my throat, know I miss you when you’re not there,” Legzdina sings at one point, while also saying “Could it be that I am part of the problem?” This is a love song that doesn’t sugarcoat the power imbalances that come in relationships for so many women, performed by a sexually confident woman, and we could use more of this nuance and complication in the contest.
Stockholm Cowboys – Last Man Standing
Former Estonian Eurovision representatives Stig Rasta and Victor Crone have teamed up as the stomp-clap EDM act Stockholm Cowboys. Their song Last Man Standing isn’t necessarily anything special, but their staging? Possibly the most inexplicable thing I’ve seen during this National Final season. Why are they dressed as Hot Priests in Leather? Are they possessed by demons or aliens? Why did Stig have to do all the acting? (I mean, Victor Crone has a permanent golden retriever mien, so is unable to do the heavy lifting here, but…) I don’t quite know how they got from Radio 2-friendly playlist to Men In Black special effects, but anything that keeps Estonia weird is fine by me.
Honorable mention
Lion Ceccah – Drobe
People who watched Eurovision this year got to experience Lion Ceccah this year with his song Solo quiero mas (I Only Want More), which is a good song. But Lion Ceccah has been delighting Lithuanian audiences (me) with his performances for years from back when he was performing under the name Alen Chicco. My favourite song by Lion/Alen is Drobe (Canvas), from 2025. It is hard, in the confines of a three-minute pop song, to create something where the audience does not know what to expect from second to second, but Drobe does it.
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