Eurovision 2026 Reviews: Part 2

This year's Eurovision Song Contest is drawing ever closer, so it's time for me to put a few more of our competing entries under the spotlight. If you missed the first instalment in this series, you can catch up here. Today, I'm discussing the songs from Germany, Italy, Malta, Romania and the United Kingdom.

Germany: Sarah Engels – “Fire”

Germany’s Eurovision track record over the last decade has been inconsistent, with only occasional highs surrounded by frequent lower finishes. As a member of the ‘Big Four’ (formerly the ‘Big Five’), the country automatically qualifies for the final, which removes the pressure of qualification but often exposes entries directly to the harshest competition. This year’s German entry, “Fire” by Sarah Engels, emerges from a revamped national selection process, which it won after impressing both an international jury and the German public. The song has a clear mission: deliver a polished, accessible pop anthem that can appeal broadly across juries and televoters. Whilst it’s competent and radio-friendly, I think it ultimately raises familiar questions about Germany’s creative risk-taking at the contest. In its studio form, “Fire” is a sleek, contemporary pop production. Built around a mid-tempo dance beat, crisp percussion and layered backing vocals, it is structurally efficient and undeniably catchy. The chorus – anchored on the repetition of “I’m on fire, fire / You’re a liar, liar” – is engineered for memorability, though this arguably comes at the expense of originality. The production is polished to a high standard, but it leans heavily on well-worn Eurovision pop tropes, recalling past ‘girl bop’ entries rather than pushing the genre forward. Lyrically, the song centres on empowerment and emotional independence following a toxic relationship. Lines such as “I don’t want it, I don’t need it” and “I won’t let you repeat it” reinforce a narrative of self-assertion. However, the writing often leans too far into cliché. The fire/liar rhyme scheme, whilst effective as a hook, feels predictable, and similes such as “like a vampire, you hide” add little depth. The result is a song that communicates its message clearly but rarely surprises.

The national final performance elevated the material to some extent. Sarah delivered a confident vocal performance, supported by a dynamic staging that incorporated choreography and fire-themed visuals, aligning neatly with the song’s concept. Her experience as a seasoned television performer is evident: she commands the stage with assurance and maintains strong vocal control throughout. Yet the staging itself – slick, symmetrical and dance-driven – again feels derivative, echoing the visual language of previous Eurovision pop entries rather than establishing a distinctive identity. Reception among fans has been mixed, though probably more negative than positive. Whilst some appreciate its accessibility and professionalism, others have criticised its lack of originality. This divide reflects a broader tension: “Fire” is easy to like on first listen, but difficult to champion as a standout entry. My main issue with the song is that it sounds like a song that could come from anywhere – it lacks that particular flavour that would mark it clearly as the German entry. This has arguably been reflected in its weak performance in the German charts: the song peaked at around No. 75 before quickly dropping out, raising concerns about its broader appeal. Whilst chart performance is not always predictive of Eurovision success, it can signal a lack of domestic enthusiasm. In terms of Eurovision prospects, “Fire” appears likely to land in the lower half of the scoreboard. Its strengths – professional delivery, clear structure and immediacy – should prevent it from completely failing. However, its weaknesses – derivative composition, generic staging and limited emotional depth – may hinder its ability to stand out in a competitive field. Juries may reward Sarah’s vocal competence, but televoters often gravitate towards entries with stronger individuality or novelty.

Ultimately, “Fire” is a competent but conservative entry. It demonstrates Germany’s ability to produce polished pop, yet also underscores a recurring issue: a reluctance to take creative risks. In a contest that increasingly rewards originality, that may once again prove to be its undoing.

My Score: 5

Romania: Alexandra Căpitănescu – “Choke Me”

Romania was once a Eurovision powerhouse, but its results in recent years have left quite a bit to be desired. After three consecutive non-qualifications, Wrs brought the country back to the final in 2022, but the following year, Romania scored nul points in the semi-final and subsequently withdrew from the contest. This year marks the country’s first Eurovision appearance since then, and the winner of Romania’s national final Selecția națională was “Choke Me” by Alexandra Căpitănescu, which is probably one of the most provocative Eurovision entries in recent memory – less for its musical construction than for the discourse it has generated. The song occupies an unusual space: sonically ambitious, performatively intense, but lyrically contentious to a degree that risks overshadowing its artistic merits. From a purely musical standpoint, the studio version is striking. The track blends elements of industrial pop, nu-metal and electronic production, building from a subdued, almost breathy verse into a dense, explosive chorus. There is a clear emphasis on contrast: fragile vocal delivery gives way to aggressive, layered instrumentation. This dynamic structure is arguably the song’s strongest asset. It creates a sense of escalation that suits the emotional intensity the song aims to convey. Alexandra’s vocal performance is technically solid and stylistically versatile. She transitions between airy, intimate phrasing and more forceful, almost screamed lines with relative ease – a quality that aligns with current Eurovision trends favouring genre hybridity. However, the production occasionally feels overworked; the layering can become cluttered, reducing the impact of individual elements. The hook, whilst undeniably memorable, leans heavily on repetition rather than melodic development. That repetition becomes far more problematic when examining the lyrics. The phrase “choke me” is repeated around thirty times in the song, accompanied by lines such as “It’s hard to breathe in” and “make my lungs explode”. This has led to significant backlash, with critics arguing that the song appears to normalise erotic asphyxiation – a practice associated with serious health risks.

The controversy is not incidental; it is central to how the song is being received. Activists and academics have described the message as “reckless” and potentially harmful, particularly to younger audiences. At the same time, both Alexandra and Romanian broadcaster TVR have defended the lyrics as metaphorical, framing them as an expression of emotional suffocation or overwhelming love rather than literal violence. This ambiguity is ultimately a double-edged sword. On one hand, it invites interpretation and aligns with the tradition of provocative pop imagery, but on the other, the lack of lyrical nuance – combined with the sheer frequency of the central phrase – makes the metaphor difficult to sustain convincingly. Even sympathetic listeners may find the execution heavy-handed, and detractors are unlikely to be persuaded by post-hoc explanations. The national final performance adds another layer to the evaluation. The staging leant into a dark, rock-influenced aesthetic, with an emphasis on intensity rather than narrative clarity. Audience reactions suggest that whilst Alexandra’s charisma and vocal presence were evident, the camerawork and overall presentation did not fully capitalise on the song’s theatrical potential. I have a sense that the live version has yet to reach its full impact – something that could either be corrected on the Eurovision stage or further expose the song’s structural weaknesses. I think this song will probably qualify for the final in Vienna, though beyond that it’s difficult to place. Its sonic boldness and memorable hook could secure televote attention, particularly among viewers drawn to darker, more alternative entries. However, the controversy surrounding the lyrics introduces a significant risk. The EBU has historically intervened in cases of questionable content, and even without formal sanctions, jury reception may be negatively affected by the song’s perceived messaging.

Overall, “Choke Me” is a case of concept and execution being misaligned. It is musically compelling enough to stand out in a crowded field, but its lyrical choices feel more provocative than purposeful. Whether it succeeds at Eurovision will depend less on its composition than on how effectively it can reframe – or survive – the conversation it has already ignited.

My Score: 7

Italy: Sal Da Vinci – “Per sempre sì”

Italy is one of Eurovision’s biggest powerhouses. Since returning to the contest in 2011, the country has rarely finished outside of the top ten, and regularly brings memorable, high-quality packages. This year, the long-running Sanremo Music Festival was won by Salvatore Michael Sorrentino, who performs under the stage name Sal Da Vinci, with his song “Per sempre sì”. The winner of Sanremo receives right of first refusal to represent Italy at Eurovision, and Sal later confirmed that he would accept the invitation. “Per sempre sì” comes to the contest with the aim of reviving a particular sort of unabashedly traditional Italian romanticism. For me, the song succeeds in delivering emotional clarity and vocal assurance, but also exposes the limitations of nostalgia in a contemporary contest environment. The studio recording is polished, efficient and unmistakeably classic. It wastes little time establishing its tone: sweeping strings, mid-tempo pacing and a melodic structure rooted in 1980s Italian pop balladry. The production leans heavily on orchestral flourishes and steady percussion, creating a lush but somewhat predictable soundscape. Sal’s vocal performance is arguably the track’s strongest asset. His delivery is controlled and expressive, with a warmth that suits the song’s subject matter. However, the arrangement rarely evolves beyond its initial palette. The chorus, whilst memorable, feels repetitive after multiple listens, relying more on emotional insistence than musical development. This gives the studio version an accessible but slightly dated feel – comforting for some listeners, but lacking the dynamism expected in modern pop music. Lyrically, “Per sempre sì” is built around imagery of marriage, lifelong commitment and faith. Lines such as “It will be you and me / Forever” and the promise made “before God” frame love as sacred and enduring. The narrative traces a relationship from its beginnings to a symbolic wedding day, emphasising resilience through hardship and the construction of a shared future. This thematic clarity is, in my view, both a strength and a weakness. The song’s message is universal and immediately understandable, contributing to its broad appeal. However, it does at times feel a little bit generic. The use of familiar tropes – “big house”, “children”, “overcoming difficulties” – rarely surprises or challenges the listener. It’s easily digestible, and the lyrics stick well after one listen, but there isn’t much depth beyond the surface sentimentality.

At Sanremo, Sal elevated the package through his performance. His staging was relatively simple but effective, focussing on his presence rather than elaborate visuals. The performance has been described as almost theatrical, transforming the song into a staged emotional narrative rather than a straightforward vocal showcase. Vocally, Sal was consistently strong throughout the festival, delivering a near-flawless rendition in the final. The sincerity of his performance, combined with his experience, helped to sell a song that might otherwise have risked feeling overly conventional. The lack of complex staging worked in his favour, reinforcing the authenticity of the piece, though it also meant that the performance lacked a strong visual hook compared to more modern entries. At Eurovision, it’s not entirely clear how “Per sempre sì” will fare. Italy does have a strong track record, and the song’s classic Italian identity could resonate with those jurors who value vocal ability and compositional tradition. Its emotional directness and cultural specificity may also appeal to older audiences and those nostalgic for traditional ballads. The Italian language is the biggest strength of the package – I honestly believe that the reception for this song would have been notably more negative were it being performed in English. That being said, I do think Italy’s televote potential this year is limited. In a contest dominated by contemporary production, genre fusion and memorable staging concepts, “Per sempre sì” risks being perceived as dated or overly sentimental. Even if performed with conviction, the fact remains that stylistically, this is decades behind current trends. A realistic outcome might place this in the mid-to-upper section of the scoreboard – respectable, but not a clear winner. Its success will depend closely on how the staging is adapted for Eurovision and whether its sincerity can cut through a field of more modern, visually striking entries.

In conclusion, “Per sempre sì” is a well-crafted, competently performed ballad that embraces tradition without compromise. Its strengths lie in vocal delivery and emotional clarity, whilst its weaknesses stem from predictability and a lack of innovation in its lyrics. In both Sanremo and Eurovision, it represents a deliberate choice: to lean into Italy’s musical past rather than chase contemporary trends – with solid, if not groundbreaking, results.

My Score: 7

Malta: Aidan – “Bella”

Malta has had mixed results at Eurovision over the years, but one inescapable truth remains: the country seems unable to succeed with the televote. Yes, Malta’s best results at Eurovision came largely under a televote-only system, but recently, its entries just haven’t been getting off the ground. Even undeniably charismatic performers such as Destiny and Miriana Conte ended up with somewhat disappointing results in their respective finals. Hoping to change that is this year’s Maltese representative Aidan, who is by now a veteran of the national final. His song, “Bella”, is quite different to his previous entries “Ritmu” and “Reġina”, and is the first entry to feature the Maltese language since 1972 (with the possible exception of a spoken-word phrase in 2000). “Bella” is a carefully crafted entry that arguably prioritises atmosphere and emotional continuity over immediate impact. It stands out in this year’s field for its restraint, though that same quality may divide listeners. The studio version leans into a cinematic, almost nostalgic pop ballad sound. With dramatic strings and a gentle rhythmic pulse, it avoids the bombast typical of Eurovision ballads. This gives the song a sense of cohesion and polish, but also exposes its biggest weakness: a certain monotony. The melody evolves only subtly, and the repeated “Bella” refrain, whilst catchy, can feel over-relied upon rather than fully developed. That said, however, the production is undeniably elegant, and the multilingual approach adds texture and identity. Lyrically, “Bella” explores themes of longing and unresolved love, framing a relationship that is both painful and irresistible. Lines like “I gave it all, you took me by surprise” are simple but effective, capturing emotional vulnerability without veering too heavily into cliché. The language switches enhance this emotional layering, particularly when Maltese is used to heighten intimacy. However, the narrative remains somewhat abstract; it gestures towards depth rather than fully articulating it, which may limit its memorability compared to more sharply defined Eurovision storytelling.

Where “Bella” truly comes to life is in its live performance. At the Malta Eurovision Song Contest, Aidan’s delivery of the song added nuance that the studio version only hints at. His vocal control – smooth, emotive and consistently on pitch – has been praised by fans, with some even noting how closely it resembled the recording. The staging, featuring theatrical lighting and rose-petal imagery, provided a visual narrative that compensated for the song’s relative simplicity, giving it a sense of occasion it may otherwise have lacked. Overall, I do tend to think of “Bella” as a performance piece first and a standalone track second. In Vienna, I expect this to qualify for the final, largely thanks to the reintroduction of juries to the semi-finals. The jury appeal of “Bella” is clear: strong vocals, musical sophistication and a polished presentation should translate into a solid jury score. The song won the jury vote convincingly in the national final. The televote, however, is more of an unknown quantity. As previously mentioned, Malta doesn’t have the best track record with the European public, and whilst the song has emotional resonance, its understated progression and repetitive structure may mean that it struggles to stand out among its competitors. This divide has been highlighted in numerous fan discussions, with some praising the song’s timeless qualities and others left waiting for a standout moment that never arrives. I also worry that “Bella” isn’t immediate enough to have a significant impact on the audience. The song took a while to click for me – though I will acknowledge that this was because it wasn’t what I was expecting from Aidan – and I initially ranked several of the other national final entries above this, before I was eventually captivated by the performance.

At the end of the day, “Bella” is a refined and artistically coherent entry that comes alive on stage, largely thanks to Aidan’s performance and staging choices. Its main challenge lies in converting that subtlety into impact – especially with televoters. A jury-heavy result with modest televote support seems the most likely outcome, placing Malta comfortably in the final but outside the top tier.

My Score: 8

United Kingdom: Look Mum No Computer – “Eins, Zwei, Drei”

“Eins, Zwei, Drei” by Look Mum No Computer (the stage name of Sam Battle) is the UK’s most unconventional Eurovision entry in years – deliberately abrasive, eccentric and difficult to ignore, though whether that will translate into success is another matter. A look at the UK’s recent Eurovision performances helps to contextualise this choice: aside from Sam Ryder’s incredible result in 2022, we have largely struggled, landing near the bottom with entries criticised as beige or forgettable. In both 2024 and 2025, the UK failed to score a single point from the televote. Recent acts have often been seen as competent but lacking distinction, and on a number of occasions, subpar vocal performances haven’t helped matters either. Against that backdrop, “Eins, Zwei, Drei” represents a clear pivot – rather than chasing contemporary pop polish, the BBC has opted for novelty, personality and risk. That shift is embodied in the artist himself. Look Mum No Computer is not a traditional pop performer, but a YouTuber, inventor and electronic musician known for building his own instruments from obsolete technology and toys. His background in DIY synthesis and experimental performance informs both the sound and aesthetic of this track. This is not a song written to fit Eurovision conventions; it is one forcing Eurovision to accommodate it. Musically, the studio version leans heavily into retro synth-pop, drawing on 1980s textures and pulsing electronic basslines reminiscent of “Funkytown” by Lipps Inc. There is a deliberate roughness to the production: synths blare rather than shimmer, and the mix prioritises impact over clarity. I have seen critics describe it as “mercilessly loud” and chaotic, and that assessment is not unfair. The track’s structure is loose, almost sketch-like – verses that feel half-spoken, a choral pre-chorus and a repetitive, shouted hook about counting in German.

Lyrically, the song oscillates between satire and nonsense. It begins with a familiar Eurovision theme: escape from mundane life, particularly the ‘nine-to-five’ grind – but quickly descends into absurd imagery and purposefully awkward rhymes. Lines about food, British culture and European longing sit alongside the titular “Eins, Zwei, Drei” refrain, which functions more as a rhythmic device than a meaningful hook. The humour is intentionally juvenile, even grating; whether it lands depends entirely on the listener’s tolerance for novelty. The official music video reinforces this tone. Visually, it leans into Sam’s ‘mad scientist’ persona: cluttered sets, analogue machinery and frenetic editing that mirrors the song’s sonic overload. It’s distinctive and memorable, though arguably as exhausting as the track itself. There is no attempt at sleek Eurovision-style choreography or glamour; instead, the video doubles down on eccentricity. The response to “Eins, Zwei, Drei” has certainly been polarised. Many fans have praised the song for finally breaking the UK’s cycle of blandness, noting that at the very least it’s not forgettable. On the other hand, others have reduced it to a racket of noise and shouting. In my opinion, both perspectives contain truths. “Eins, Zwei, Drei” is obviously distinctive, and obviously British, but its lack of musical discipline – weak melody, repetitive structure and overwhelming production – limits its broader appeal. At Eurovision, the outlook isn’t entirely clear. The song may perform better with televoters, who often reward novelty and high-energy performances, but juries – who tend to favour vocal ability and compositional strength – could be less receptive. In that sense, this represents a strategic gamble. The UK is another country that tends to score better with juries than the public, so the BBC is trading safe mid-table finishes for the possibility of either a surprise success or a spectacular failure. The hook “Eins, Zwei, Drei” could be a real moment on the night if the audience in the arena joins in (particularly as the contest is taking place in a German-speaking country), but I don’t know if it will be enough.

To summarise, “Eins, Zwei, Drei” is less a polished pop song than a statement of intent. It signals that the UK is willing to embrace Eurovision’s stranger side after years of cautious entries. Whether that boldness is rewarded remains to be seen, but I for one am pleased that the BBC has taken this risk, and, for better or worse, this is an entry that demands attention.

My Score: 6.5