OUR Eurovision it brings something of the childish, light-heartedness of all of us (even most). This is, say, the first party of spring at a friend’s house, marking the beginning of summer. I still remember my friend’s exclamation of delight in 2004 at a competition in Istanbul, when Sakis (Ruvas) managed to do an acrobatic somersault without falling. Or maybe we don’t remember Kate’s (Garby) super sexy dress in 1993 when she sang about “Greece, Land of the World.” And this, of course, many years after 1976, when, at the direction of Manos Hadjidakis, Marisa Koch composed a ballad protesting against the Turkish invasion of Cyprus called “My Virgin Mary, My Virgin Mary.” Turkish television aired the advertisement during a five-minute presentation of the Greek participation.

The truth is that Eurovision serves the norms of pop music without leaving much of a mark on the audience’s ears, even days after the competition. Her popularity is also her political strength. Songs that play consistent musical patterns that can easily be heard on the beach, in a train bar, or in an elevator. And the stories of the singers who worked so hard to be on the Eurovision stage, even with their exaggerated drama, offer the viewer a touching shell at the moment of the competition. In fact, since 2002, slogans have been introduced into the competition that usually give weight to messages of optimism, unity, solidarity, inclusiveness – after all, Eurovision has been especially loved by the LGBTI community.

The fall of the Berlin Wall in 1989 brought the Eastern Bloc into the organization and opened up not only new television markets, but also a view of a world that had until then been unprofitably closed. The contest then expanded even further to countries such as Australia (participating in the contest since 2015) and China, where it is broadcast. Fifty-two countries have participated at least once, and about 45 countries have consistently participated in recent events.

However, while the opening allowed Eurovision to be culturally instilled on both sides of the wall, eventually the new countries were “assimilated” to the musical standards of Western Europe. And that’s because easily digestible sound is needed to create massive entertainment codes for TV viewers. And the use of English smoothed out the distinct linguistic style of each country’s songs when the lyrics were in the national language, leading to the predominance of absolute kitsch uniformity.

In the end, of course, there remains the question of what they want to say (what they say, what is the name of the Greek participation this year) those who are trying to convince of the importance of the competition in the cultural development of Europe. Why the effort? Eurovision, the annual blockbuster for TV revenue, is – and wants to be – a glamorous event. Who does not want, at least once a year, to deify the lightness in them?