Eurovision 2026 Reviews: Part 1

 

Welcome to the first batch of my Eurovision 2026 song reviews. If you haven't read any of last year's reviews, it's really quite self-explanatory. Each time, I will discuss a few of this year's competing entries: artists, songs, lyrics, live performances and anything else that catches my eye. Last year, I promised to keep predictions to a minimum, though I did find that quite difficult! Whilst I won't be making any concrete predictions here, I will also talk about my assessment of each song's chances in Vienna. So without any further ado, let's begin with entries from Albania, Azerbaijan, Croatia, Moldova and San Marino.

Moldova: Satoshi – “Viva, Moldova!”

Despite its small size, Moldova has largely been successful at Eurovision over the last two decades. The country is loved by fans for its attitude towards the contest and fun back catalogue of entries, which is why there was such disappointment last year when Moldova announced its withdrawal from the contest, citing economic challenges as well as the perceived quality of its national selection. Thankfully, that wasn’t to last: Moldova is back at Eurovision this year, and is being represented by Satoshi with the song “Viva, Moldova!”. Satoshi is a rapper and singer-songwriter, and he easily won Moldova’s national final Selecția națională back in January. His song is certainly one of this year’s more distinctive entries, blending humour, cultural references and a certain chaotic energy that feels very ‘Moldova at Eurovision’. “Viva, Moldova!” is a rap-pop anthem that is ultimately a celebration of national identity, with lyrics that read like a love letter to Moldova, name-checking places, traditions and cultural icons. The biggest strength of the studio cut is its personality. There’s something almost tongue-in-cheek about lines like “Moldova is on duty”, and the mixture of languages gives the whole thing a pan-European flavour. It feels intentionally messy – more of a party than a polished pop product. However, I fear the song’s maximalism may end up being its undoing. It’s certainly full of ideas, but structurally, “Viva, Moldova!” lacks a clear emotional arc – it’s catchy, but not particularly impactful melodically, meaning it relies heavily on charisma. It’s certainly a song designed to be heard in a live show environment, which means it will live or die by the execution on stage in Vienna.

At Selecția națională, Satoshi sold this song with confidence and an infectious enthusiasm. His dynamic performance leans into the song’s chaotic nature, with lots of audience engagement. For me, this does make some of the slightly disjointed elements of the studio version feel a bit more cohesive. Vocally, Satoshi is solid but not outstanding, although that’s not really the point. The package is built around delivery, rhythm and personality rather than vocal finesse. We also know that Aliona Moon, of Eurovision 2013 fame, will be providing some backing vocals for this at Eurovision – I think this will be a good addition, and probably more likely to match the juries’ criteria. However, the national final performance wasn’t without its issues. As with many songs at this point, the staging felt a bit underdeveloped – almost more of a concept than a finished product. Thankfully, Moldovan broadcaster TRM is addressing this, with plans to overhaul the staging, choreography and graphics ahead of the contest in May. As I have said already, Moldova selected this song decisively, with Satoshi winning both the jury vote and televote by a clear margin. That kind of support is often an indicator of an entry that connects strongly on an instinctive level – and Moldova often excels when it comes to leaning into creative staging to elevate a quirky concept into a memorable Eurovision moment. If the promised revamp sharpens the visual storytelling and amplifies the song’s humour, “Viva, Moldova!” could become a televote magnet in Vienna, with a sense already building among some fans that this could be a dark horse. In terms of qualification chances, I believe the song sits in the ‘borderline’ category at the moment. Its somewhat chaotic structure and lack of a strong melodic hook could limit its appeal to casual viewers, though on the other hand its uniqueness and immediacy will probably give it a much-needed edge over some of its competitors in the semi-final.

Overall, this is not a conventional Eurovision entry – but it’s not trying to be one. “Viva, Moldova!” is loud, messy and unapologetically fun. In the studio, it’s interesting though inconsistent, but as a live performance, it has genuine potential. If Moldova can smooth out some of the song’s rough edges, Satoshi could prove that unpredictability is one of Eurovision’s biggest strengths.

My Score: 6.5

Azerbaijan: Jiva – “Just Go”

Azerbaijan has had quite a fascinating trajectory at Eurovision. After its debut in 2008, the country quickly established itself as a powerhouse, culminating in a victory in 2011 with the song “Running Scared”. For several years, Azerbaijan maintained a near-perfect qualification record and a reputation for sending polished, jury-friendly pop; however, the last few years have been less consistent, with recent results – including finishing dead last in the semi-final in 2025 – suggesting that the country is once again searching for direction. Into this context arrives “Just Go” by Jiva, a classically styled power ballad aiming to restore Azerbaijan’s emotional credibility on the Eurovision stage. Musically, the song is firmly rooted in the tradition of early 2010s Eurovision balladry. Built around a slow piano progression that gradually expands into a fuller orchestral arrangement, the song leans heavily on vocal delivery rather than sonic innovation. Its structure is somewhat predictable: restrained verses, a swelling pre-chorus and a chorus designed to be belted out. This isn’t inherently a flaw – Eurovision has long rewarded well-executed simplicity – but here it results in a composition that feels overly familiar. Lyrically, the song explores the aftermath of a toxic relationship, focussing on themes of emotional liberation and self-reclamation. Lines such as “I don’t love you any more” and “I’ll erase you from my soul” are direct and accessible, but also rather generic, lacking a certain poetic nuance that might enhance the narrative. The inclusion of Azerbaijani-language lyrics in the latter half of the song adds some cultural texture, but I think unfortunately they arrive too late to meaningfully reshape the song’s identity.

Where “Just Go” does succeed is in its vocal performance. Jiva is, by all accounts, a technically strong singer with experience across jazz and pop, and the track gives her ample opportunity to demonstrate control and emotional intensity. Her delivery is sincere and polished, particularly in the climatic moments, where she injects a sense of conviction that the composition itself sometimes lacks. The song’s emotional core – its emphasis on authenticity over gimmickry – aligns with Azerbaijan’s apparent strategic pivot towards sincerity. However, this restraint is probably also the biggest weakness of the package. In a contest increasingly dominated by distinctive staging concepts, genre-blending and instantly memorable hooks, “Just Go” risks fading into the background. Its production feels dated, with fans comparing it to older Eurovision power ballads, suggesting it may struggle to stand out in a contemporary field. The song’s emotional arc is clear but lacks a defining moment – there’s no unexpected modulation, lyrical twist or instrumental shift to leave a lasting impression. There is also a broader issue of identity. Azerbaijan’s strongest entries have often balanced international accessibility with subtle regional influences (I think Aysel & Arash’s “Always” is the best example of this). “Just Go”, despite its bilingual lyrics, feels largely generic in its language, potentially limiting its memorability. Whilst professionalism remains high, individuality is less evident. As for its Eurovision prospects, the outlook isn’t great. Azerbaijan will certainly be helped by the reintroduction of juries to the semi-finals this year – with vocal competence and emotional clarity more likely to be rewarded – but televoters, who increasingly favour originality and an immediate impact, will probably overlook it in favour of more distinctive entries performed later in the show.

Ultimately, “Just Go” is a safe but unremarkable effort from Azerbaijan. It showcases Jiva’s vocal ability and offers a sincere emotional message, but falls short of delivering the innovation or memorability needed to make a strong impact. In a year as competitive as this, I think it’s going to become another understated entry that simply passes by unnoticed.

My Score: 6

San Marino: Senhit – “Superstar”

San Marino occupies a unique position at the Eurovision Song Contest: a microstate with outsized ambition. Since debuting in 2008, the country has struggled for success, qualifying for the Grand Final on only a handful of occasions. Even its most recognisable entrants have needed multiple attempts before finally getting there. In recent years, San Marino has leaned into spectacle and international collaborations to stand out – often with mixed results. “Superstar”, this year’s entry from Senhit, featuring Boy George, continues this strategy. At its core, this is a polished, mid-tempo dance-pop track with clear retro influences. The production leans heavily on glossy synths and a steady four-on-the-floor beat, evoking a vaguely 80s-inspired aesthetic that aligns neatly with Boy George’s musical legacy. The song is competently constructed, with a professional songwriting team behind it, and never feels amateurish – a common pitfall for smaller Eurovision delegations. However, competence is not the same as memorability. One of the main issues with “Superstar” is its lack of a distinctive musical identity. Whilst it aims for a sleek, international sound, it ends up feeling somewhat generic. The chorus, despite its intended anthemic quality, doesn’t quite land with the impact expected from a Eurovision contender. It’s catchy enough on first listen but struggles to linger in the memory afterwards. Senhit herself remains a charismatic performer. Her vocal delivery is controlled and stylish, though not especially dynamic. She sells the track effectively, bringing a sense of personality that elevates the material slightly. Yet even her stage presence – usually one of her strengths – may not be enough to fully compensate for the song’s relative flatness.

The inclusion of Boy George is arguably the song’s most headline-grabbing element. On paper, it’s a savvy move: a globally recognised name can generate valuable buzz and media attention. In practice, however, his contribution feels underutilised, not least because we still don’t know whether he will actually be appearing at the contest. Rather than serving as a transformative feature, his presence is more of a branding tool than a musical necessity. This echoes San Marino’s previous strategy of recruiting international stars, which has not always led to better results. The fan reaction to this song online has been largely negative. Whilst some have appreciated the song’s polished production and nostalgic feel, others have criticised it for being generic, dull, uninspired and lacking impact compared to Senhit’s previous Eurovision entries. This highlights a key problem: “Superstar” is unlikely to provoke strong emotional responses, positive or negative – often a disadvantage in a contest driven by immediate viewer engagement. From a structural standpoint, the song is also quite safe. It avoids risks, sticking closely to established pop formulas. Whilst this ensures accessibility, it also limits its ability to stand out in a crowded field. Successful Eurovision entries often combine strong hooks with a clear artistic identity or a memorable staging concept, and “Superstar” feels like it’s missing that defining element. Assessing its competitive prospects, “Superstar” is a borderline qualifier at best – and that’s being generous. San Marino will certainly benefit from Senhit’s experience with the Eurovision process and the curiosity surrounding Boy George’s involvement. However, in an environment where instant impact is crucial, the song’s laid-back nature could work against it. If the staging leans heavily into the retro aesthetic and maximises the collaboration angle, it may secure some televote support. But without a standout moment or a more powerful hook, qualification seems unlikely – much like Azerbaijan’s entry, this risks getting lost among more distinctive songs.

To conclude, “Superstar” is professionally produced and competently performed, but lacks the originality and emotional punch needed to be competitive at Eurovision. It’s enjoyable in the moment, but in a contest built on first impressions, that may not be enough.

My Score: 3.5

Albania: Alis – “Nân”

Readers of this blog may remember that last year, I awarded Albania’s Shkodra Elektronike my douze points, crowning “Zjerm” as my personal winner of Eurovision 2025, and also gave the entry my ‘Song of the Year’ award in December. It’s safe to say that whatever followed for Albania had a lot to live up to in my book. Albania’s 2026 Eurovision entry, “Nân” by Alis, is a quietly powerful ballad that leans heavily into emotional authenticity rather than instant impact. Whilst not the most immediate song in this year’s line-up, it stands out for its sincerity, strong vocal delivery and cultural specificity – qualities that have long defined Albania’s best Eurovision efforts. The studio version of “Nân” is understated but carefully constructed. It builds slowly from a sparse, almost fragile opening into a fuller orchestral climax. The production avoids over-polishing; instead, it preserves a raw, almost live quality that mirrors its origins in Festivali i Këngës (Albania’s Eurovision selection). This works in the song’s favour, allowing Alis’ voice to remain front and centre. His vocal performance is one of the track’s strongest assets – controlled, emotive and capable of conveying longing without tipping into melodrama. Lyrically, “Nân” (which translates to “Mother”) explores themes of separation, migration and enduring familial love. Inspired by the idea of a farewell between a child and their mother, the song frames absence as something felt slowly and deeply rather than something dramatic and explosive. Lines referencing waiting, time passing and empty spaces evoke a distinctly Balkan sense of nostalgia. Even without understanding Albanian, the emotional intent is clear, though the lack of accessibility may limit its televote reach compared to more immediate entries.

The national final performance is where “Nân” truly came to life. At FiK, the staging was minimal but effective: dim lighting, symbolic gestures and a focus on Alis as a storyteller. This simplicity aligned well with the song’s intimate message, and his live vocals were widely praised. The performance also featured small visual motifs – such as gestures marking the passage of time – that helped give structure to an otherwise slow-burning piece. Its decisive victory with both the jury and the televote suggests that it resonated strongly on first listen, at least within that context. Looking ahead to Eurovision, the key question is how much Albania chooses to revamp the entry. Historically, FiK winners have often received updated arrangements or staging tweaks, and “Nân” could benefit from subtle refinement – perhaps a slightly more dynamic instrumental build or clearer visual storytelling. However, overproduction would risk stripping away the authenticity that makes it compelling in the first place. Keeping the song in Albanian feels essential; it is central to its identity and emotional weight. Heading into the contest, I think “Nân” sits in an interesting position. With juries returning to the semi-finals, a well-executed vocal performance should deliver a comfortable qualification, especially given its technical quality and emotional credibility. Among fans, there seems to be a sense that this is a safe qualifier if performed cleanly, though its ultimate ceiling may depend on how other songs perform on the night. In a year with quite a few ballads, it risks blending in; whereas in a more up-tempo line-up, this might have stood out as a moment of stillness. In the grand final, I think a mid-table result feels most likely, with an outside chance of it climbing a bit higher if juries strongly connect with its artistry. What the song lacks in immediacy it more than makes up for with depth and sincerity – qualities that often earn respect, if not overwhelming scores. We also shouldn’t forget the fact that Albania tends to score well with the televote, so I’m not expecting “Nân” to flop with the audience by any means.

Overall, I think this is a beautifully crafted, emotionally resonant entry that stays true to Albania’s musical identity. It may not be a runaway winner, but it is a song that lingers – and in Eurovision, that can be just as valuable.

My Score: 9

Croatia: Lelek – “Andromeda”

After reaching the dizzying heights of second place in 2024, the people of Croatia must have been disappointed with how things played out in Basel last year. Sadly, Marko Bošnjak failed to qualify for the final, bringing the country’s qualification streak to an end almost as soon as it had begun. This year, all-female group Lelek won the Croatian national selection Dora, having previously participated in 2025, and will be heading to Vienna with the song “Andromeda”. It’s probably one of the more artistically ambitious entries in this year’s contest, blending traditional Balkan influences with a cinematic, more contemporary pop structure. Both musically and thematically, the song stands apart from more conventional Eurovision fare, offering a dense, emotive experience that rewards close listening. The studio version of “Andromeda” grows from a haunting, almost minimalist opening into a swelling, orchestral chorus. The production layers ethno-folk elements – particularly choral harmonies and modal melodies – with modern electronic textures, creating a soundscape that feels simultaneously ancient and futuristic. This duality reflects the song’s central tension between past trauma and transcendence. The polished mixing allows the group’s harmonies to shine, with many fans drawing parallels with Latvia’s Tautumeitas from last year. The lyrics of “Andromeda” are unusually heavy for Eurovision. Lines such as “ask your grandmother why she gave birth in fear” and “our mothers didn’t give birth to slaves” encapsulate its focus on generational suffering and resilience. The song grapples with war, historical cycles and inherited trauma, framing these ideas through intimate family imagery. The repeated plea to be taken “to the stars” introduces a cosmic metaphor, contrasting earthly violence with celestial hope. You don’t need to understand Croatian to feel the emotional weight of the song, and that carries through thanks to the intensity of the delivery and the stark repetition of words like “izdajice” (“traitors”), which adds a confrontational edge.

Stylistically, Lelek continue to develop their niche in ethno-pop, but “Andromeda” leans further into dramatic, almost ritualistic presentation. The use of traditional motifs, including visual references to historical practices like sicanje (ritual tattooing), grounds the song in cultural identity whilst elevating it into something mythic. Musically, the track sits somewhere between Balkan folk, cinematic pop and protest music – an unusual but compelling hybrid that feels authentic rather than gimmicky. The national final performance, which secured Lelek’s ticket to Eurovision, showcased both the song’s potential and its limitations. The staging leaned into symbolism, with coordinated visuals and a solemn, almost ceremonial tone. Vocally, however, the performance seemed to receive a more mixed reaction. Some people praised the emotional delivery and atmosphere, whilst others found issues with the blending and pitch, particularly in the more demanding harmonies. This gap between studio polish and live execution is perhaps the song’s biggest challenge as we head towards Eurovision. As for its chances at the contest, “Andromeda” has clear strengths. Its originality, cultural authenticity and serious thematic content make it memorable in a crowded field. This is the kind of entry that juries often respect for its artistry, and it could stand out among more generic pop songs. However, its success will likely depend on two key factors: vocal improvement and staging clarity. If Lelek can tighten their harmonies and elevate the live performance to match the intensity of the studio version, a good result in the final feels entirely plausible. Without that, “Andromeda” risks being appreciated but not fully embraced.

To summarise, “Andromeda” is a bold, atmospheric entry that prioritises meaning and mood over immediate accessibility. It may not be the easiest listen, but it is one of the more thought-provoking songs in this year’s line-up, and that alone makes it significant.

My Score: 7.5