When We're Old
Back in the day Eurovision was quite a treat, largely because you got to peek behind the often Iron curtains of other nations and get a glimpse of their culture and food and pop music. I mean I was barely four when this happened, but I definately told my mummy that I wanted to go Germany after this- although it turned out that Germany wasn't a land of flambouyant disco warriors after all, but a land of racists taking the piss out of Mongolia.
Half the problem these days is that everybody talks in digital languages- twenty-four seven, always on their phones. Everybody talks in different languages, but in case you didn’t know, two lads from Lithuania try to say hello, hey hey. They say ola, khairete, shesen, hi. priviet and buna, salve, alegra, selambagu, ciao, zdravstvuyte, tere, pare kop, dobar dan, gia sou. And if you hear behind you a word that sounds like llamas, we’re trying to address you. It’s our greeting, labas. Everybody talks like unicorns and rainbows, everybody talks like babies when they party too much, everybody smiles but we’re the only ones who’s talking, but in case you didn’t know, we try to say hello.
It feels like the Lithuanians started their national selection process for this year in the early nineties, and looking at the process it's actually entirely likely that they started it before the dawn of all time. You might generously describe the process as a massively tedious rigmarole- and alas Twosome (a sort of overweight Jedward) didn't emerge victorious from this year's Eurovizijos with their masterpierce of intercontinental greeting, the process instead spitting out a song about being old presumably because that's how the Lithuanians felt by the time they got to the final.
There are, fact fans, more hot air balloons per head of population in Lithuania than in any other country, which is not a huge surprise given the hot air in Ieva Zasimauskaitė's press blurb. "A man taught me that it is necessary to focus on the positive side of life, while a friend told me to, at the end of each day, spread five fingers and bend them to say one good thing that happened on this day". Well five is a stretch Ieva, but every time I'm forced to listen to your miserable, listless featherlight ballad I can certainly get as far as one finger. Or maybe two.