Eurovision 2026 Reviews: Part 4

This time next month, we'll have a new Eurovision champion! As always, that seems ridiculous to say but Eurovision 2026 in Vienna really is approaching far too quickly. Before then, however, I need to finish my reviews of this year's line-up. If you haven't read the previous instalments in this series, you can catch up here. Now, let's look at the entries from Cyprus, Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania and Montenegro.

Cyprus: Antigoni – “Jalla”

This year’s Cypriot Eurovision entry, “Jalla” by Antigoni is doubling down on cultural identity whilst maintaining the country’s recent preference for glossy, exportable pop. The result is a package that is energetic but uneven, and somehow feels neither formulaic nor properly authentic. Antigoni is a curious but not illogical choice to represent Cyprus at Eurovision. A London-born artist with Cypriot roots and prior mainstream exposure through the British version of Love Island, she represents the increasingly common ‘diaspora pop star’ model that Cyprus has relied on for years. In that sense, she is the latest in a line stretching back to Eleni Foureira in 2018 – artists who blend Mediterranean flavour with international production. Where Antigoni differs is in her explicit embrace of Cypriot dialect and imagery, a decision that, to me, has both strengthened and complicated her entry. Musically, “Jalla” is an up-tempo Mediterranean pop track merging traditional instrumentation with modern beats. That fusion is immediately apparent, with bouzouki-like textures and tsiftetéli rhythms sitting atop a contemporary dance-pop structure. The studio version is slick, punchy and undeniably catchy. Its hook is repetitive by design – possibly too much so – but effective enough to lodge itself in the brain after a couple of listens. The production, handled by a team of four, leans heavily into Eurovision-ready tropes: dynamic drops, layered backing vocals and a rhythmic build designed for energetic choreography. However, the song’s biggest weakness lies in its identity. Whilst it markets itself as distinctly Cypriot, the underlying structure feels familiar – almost interchangeable with several Greek and Cypriot entries of the past decade. Compared to the fiery immediacy of “Fuego” or the darker textures of more experimental Cypriot attempts, “Jalla” plays it relatively safe, making use of an ‘ethnic pop banger’ formula that is polished but not particularly innovative.

Lyrically, the song revolves around themes of freedom, movement and desire – summed up in lines like “I’m dancing on the table, baby”. The use of Cypriot dialect (including the titular “Jalla”, meaning “more”) adds local colour and personality, yet the English-language sections of the song fall into generic pop phrasing, creating a slight disconnect. There’s a tension between authenticity and accessibility: the song gestures towards cultural specificity but often retreats into cliché. The official video reinforces this duality. Shot across Cypriot locations with local participation, it clearly aims to showcase national identity. Visually, it’s vibrant and communal, but also somewhat overstuffed – jumping between aesthetic ideas without a strong central narrative. Reception has been mixed, with some criticism directed towards the concept despite generally positive reactions to the song itself. I think that divide mirrors the entry as a whole: appealing on the surface, but not entirely cohesive. Antigoni’s live performances so far show promise, but have also given a slight cause for concern. She is a confident presence on stage, and the choreography leans into the rhythmic strengths of the song. Early outings indicate that she can effectively bring the energy, supported by dancers and a structured routine. However, maintaining vocal stability whilst executing the demanding choreography seems to be a challenge – something that could determine whether the entry is elevated or weakened on the Eurovision stage. In comparison to other recent Cypriot entries, “Jalla” feels like a midpoint. It is more culturally rooted than some of Cyprus’ purely international pop offerings, but less musically distinctive than its most successful attempts. It neither fully commits to authenticity nor fully reinvents the formula. As for its chances at Eurovision, I am cautiously optimistic about this one. The song should have enough immediate appeal to get through the semi-final, especially if the staging lands effectively. Its rhythm and visual potential are clear assets. However, in a competitive field, it risks being perceived as just another upbeat, female-led pop entry.

To conclude, “Jalla” is enjoyable but not groundbreaking – a well-produced pop song tinged with culture that plays to Cyprus’ strengths without significantly expanding on them. Whether that’s enough will depend less on the song itself and more on how convincingly Antigoni can give it the life it needs whilst delivering a solid vocal performance.

My Score: 8

Estonia: Vanilla Ninja – “Too Epic to Be True”

Estonia has qualified for the Eurovision final for four years running, marking the country’s longest ever qualification streak. Hoping to continue that this year is Vanilla Ninja. Formed in 2002, the group achieved significant success across continental Europe and even represented Switzerland at Eurovision 2005 with the song “Cool Vibes”, finishing eighth. Their identity has long been rooted in accessible pop-rock with a slightly rebellious edge, and this year’s entry, “Too Epic to Be True” serves as both a comeback vehicle and a calculated Eurovision entry, blending that early-2000s nostalgia with modern pop-rock polish. The entry sits in an interesting position – a veteran act returning to a contest they last entered more than twenty years ago, now navigating a very different competitive landscape. “Too Epic to Be True” consciously leans into Vanilla Ninja’s legacy. There is a clear attempt to revive the band’s signature sound – guitar-driven, melodic and emotionally direct – whilst framing it for a contemporary Eurovision audience. The studio version, written and produced entirely by Sven Lõhmus, is slick but somewhat conservative. Structurally, it follows a familiar Eurovision template, with a restrained opening, rising pre-chorus and hook-heavy refrain designed to be recalled instantly. The song wastes little time, but also rarely surprises. The production is clean if slightly generic, with polished vocals and a radio-friendly mix that prioritises clarity over texture. Notably, the song is undergoing a revamp, aiming to inject a ‘rockier sound’ and more impact for the live performance, suggesting that even the creators recognised a certain lack of punch in the original version. Lyrically, the song explores an almost fairytale-like romantic connection (“too epic to be true”) that borders on cliché. Lines such as “The spark between us wrote the plot for us” and “Maybe this could be heaven” convey sincerity but lack specificity, resulting in a somewhat generic emotional palette. There is a hint of narrative – transitioning from a ‘rebel rock ‘n’ roll’ past to emotional stability – but it remains underdeveloped. The repetition of the title phrase reinforces memorability but also contributes to a sense of lyrical monotony. In short, the song communicates clearly but rarely deeply.

The performance at Eesti Laul, Estonia’s national selection process, was effective but not exceptional. Vanilla Ninja’s experience showed in their confident delivery and solid vocals, and their victory – driven by strong televote support – indicates clear public appeal, at least domestically. However, the staging leant heavily on conventional rock aesthetics without a standout visual hook. This is where Eurovision entries often come undone, and the decision to revamp both the song and the staging ahead of the contest in May reflects an awareness of this limitation. Subsequent live performances and previews suggest incremental improvement. The band’s professionalism ensures consistency, and the updated arrangement has increased energy and immediacy. The revamp has been described as being much more polished, though perhaps lacking a bit of the character of earlier versions – particularly with the loss of a distinctive spoken-word bridge. The tension between polish and personality captures the song’s broader dilemma. In Vienna, the outlook for Estonia is modest. “Too Epic to Be True” is not among the contenders this year, with low winning odds and uncertain qualification chances. Its strengths – professionalism, nostalgia and accessibility – may resonate with certain audiences, particularly older viewers or fans of early-2000s pop-rock. However, in a competition that increasingly rewards originality and striking staging, “Too Epic to Be True” risks fading away into the middle of the pack.

Ultimately, this song is competent and likeable, but not often compelling. It succeeds as a nostalgic return for Vanilla Ninja and a solid, radio-friendly entry for Estonia. Yet, despite its title, it never quite reaches the level of “epic” it promises – remaining instead a Eurovision offering that is well-executed but somewhat predictable.

My Score: 5

Lithuania: Lion Ceccah – “Sólo quiero más”

Lithuania has been one of the most successful countries at Eurovision this decade, qualifying every year with a real variety of songs. Whilst most of the country’s attempts haven’t garnered huge attention in the final, they remain beloved by fans. This year’s offering, “Sólo quiero más” by Lion Ceccah, is a deliberately artistic and layered piece that sits somewhere between an avant-garde pop experiment and an accessible Eurovision ballad. It is a compelling package, though not without its structural and conceptual weaknesses. Lion Ceccah is the stage name of Tomas Alenčikas, who is arriving at Eurovision with a clearly defined artistic identity. With a background in musical theatre and drag-influenced performance art, he positions himself less as a conventional pop act and more as a multidisciplinary performer. His aesthetic – often involving metallic body paint, stylised movement and high-concept visuals – leans into Eurovision’s appetite for the unusual. I think this distinctive image is both a strength and a weakness. It certainly sets him apart in a crowded field and aligns him with the contest’s more experimental history, but on the other hand, it risks alienating casual viewers who may find the presentation overly esoteric. There is a fine line between ‘artistic’ and ‘self-indulgent’, and Lion Ceccah occasionally straddles it. Musically, “Sólo quiero más” is an atmospheric, multilingual track that blends art-pop with electronic and cinematic elements. The production builds gradually, moving from introspective verses into a more anthemic chorus. The layering is sophisticated, with strings and electronic textures reinforcing the emotional arc. However, the song’s pacing is somewhat uneven. Whilst the slow build adds drama, it also creates a sense of inertia in the first half. The payoff, when it comes, is more cerebral than explosive – arguably at odds with Eurovision’s preference for immediate impact. The chorus is memorable, but I would say not instantly so, and may require multiple listens to fully land.

The song’s lyrics discuss themes of desire, self-discovery and resilience. The repeated refrain “Sólo quiero más” functions as a mantra for ambition and existential longing. The multilingual approach (Lithuanian, Spanish, English and various others) reinforces the universality of the message, though does at times make the song feel slightly fragmented. At its best, the lyricism balances vulnerability and determination, particularly in lines about searching inward and confronting chaos, yet at its weakest, it arguably leans into familiar Eurovision philosophies about life, pain and growth. The emotional intent is clear, but the impact of the writing is reduced by its occasional lack of specificity. Lion Ceccah’s victory at Eurovizija.LT was driven largely by televote support, suggesting a strong connection with viewers. The performance itself was visually striking, built around a conceptual staging that emphasised transformation and theatricality. His vocal delivery – deep, controlled and expressive – was a clear highlight. That being said, the staging rather overshadowed the song. The focus on visual symbolism and slow, deliberate movement occasionally came at the expense of momentum. Whilst juries are likely to appreciate the artistry, some viewers may struggle to emotionally engage in real time. In pre-parties and later renditions, the entry has been adjusted, with revamps aiming to increase intensity and clarity. Fan reactions have, as ever, been divided, with some appreciating the added drama, whilst others feeling that the original version showcased his vocals more effectively. More widely, this song’s challenge lies in balancing artistry with accessibility. Lion Ceccah is undoubtedly a capable live performer, but the song’s effectiveness depends heavily on staging choices and tweaks to the arrangement. In its current form, Lithuania’s entry is probably a borderline qualifier with the potential to surprise. It won’t win the contest, but may appeal to juries. The song’s strengths, including strong vocals, artistic credibility and a distinctive identity, could secure a solid score. However, its lack of an immediate hook and somewhat opaque presentation may limit its televote impact. A qualification from the semi-final seems plausible, particularly given Lithuania’s history of scoring well with its diaspora, but a high finish in the final would likely require a particularly impactful revamp or staging refinement.

“Sólo quiero más” is an ambitious, intelligent entry that places artistic expression over instant gratification. Whilst this makes it one of the more interesting songs of the year, it also limits its mass appeal. Lion Ceccah brings vision and authenticity, but whether that translates into Eurovision success will depend on how effectively he can bridge the gap between concept and connection.

My Score: 4

Montenegro: Tamara Živković – “Nova zora”

Montenegro hasn’t appeared in a Eurovision final for more than ten years now (incidentally, since the contest was last held in Vienna in 2015), but I would argue that the country’s national final this year was as strong as it has ever been. It produced Tamara Živković with the song “Nova zora”, and in my opinion, the whole package reflects both the ambitions of a rising artist and the Montenegro’s ongoing struggle to stand out in a competitive field. As a composition, it sits somewhere between contemporary Balkan pop and darker electronic dance music, attempting to balance emotional weight with commercial appeal. Tamara is an intriguing performer – classically trained and known for strong vocal delivery, she has built a reputation for herself in regional competitions before finally winning the national final last December. That persistence is audible in “Nova zora” – it feels deliberate and carefully constructed rather than spontaneous. Though this lends the song polish, it also contributes to a certain lack of immediacy. The studio version is, I believe, the song’s strongest asset. The production blends pulsating electronic beats with orchestral undertones, creating a layered soundscape that gradually intensifies. The chorus, built around the repeated phrase “nova zora”, is designed for maximum impact, with a rising melodic line and dense backing vocals. However, the production occasionally feels overworked: the transitions between verses and chorus can seem abrupt, and the final section borders on melodramatic excess. Still, it’s undeniably modern and aligns closely with Eurovision’s current trends of genre hybridity. Lyrically, the song discusses themes of personal liberation and renewal. Lines like “iz srca sad vadim olovo” (“I pull the lead from my heart”) and “rodila se nova zora” (“a new dawn is born”) emphasise emotional catharsis and self-reclamation. There is also a subtle thread of empowerment, particularly in references to strong, self-defined women. Whilst these themes are effective and accessible, they are not especially original within the Eurovision landscape, where narratives of rebirth and independence are common. The mix of the Montenegrin and English languages adds accessibility but once or twice disrupts the lyrical flow.

The song’s official music video leans heavily into symbolism and visual mood. Dark, stormy imagery contrasts with moments of light, mirroring the song’s thematic journey from turmoil to renewal. The direction favours stylised, almost abstract visuals over narrative coherence, which enhances the artistic feel but may distance casual viewers. It is visually polished and clearly thought-through, though arguably more memorable for its aesthetic than for any specific iconic moment. At the netional final, Tamara demonstrated clear vocal competence and a strong stage presence. The staging, however, felt constrained – likely due to the broadcaster’s budget limitations – and did not fully match the scale suggested by the studio production. The choreography and visual elements hinted at a more ambitious concept but lacked refinement. Even so, the performance was convincing enough to win both jury support and significant televote backing. For Eurovision, a more cohesive stage show will be essential. In terms of the contest, I currently place “Nova zora” in a middle ground. On one hand, it has qualities that juries tend to appreciate: strong vocals, a clear structure and a tone that is contemporary yet serious. On the other, it risks blending into a crowded field of similarly empowerment-driven pop entries. Montenegro’s limited success at Eurovision also cannot be ignored, with only two previous qualifications. With improved staging, progressing to the grand final is certainly achievable (though far from guaranteed). However, without a standout visual concept or a more distinctive musical hook, the song may struggle to leave a lasting impression in the grand final.

Overall, “Nova zora” is a competent and occasionally compelling entry – polished, but not quite daring enough to be a frontrunner. But its definitely one of Montenegro’s most memorable Eurovision entries, and hopefully it will be rewarded in Vienna.

My Score: 7

Latvia: Atvara – “Ēnā”

“Ēnā” by Atvara is one of the more introspective and emotionally grounded entries in this year’s Eurovision line-up. It sits firmly within the contemporary Eurovision ballad tradition, but distinguishes itself through lyrical specificity and a restrained, almost cinematic atmosphere. Atvara herself is a relatively new but fast-rising figure in Latvia’s music scene. Trained in both conducting and jazz-pop vocals, she brings a technically solid and expressive vocal style that has already translated well into live settings, including sold-out concerts prior to her Eurovision selection. That background is crucial to understanding “Ēnā”: this is not a manufactured ballad, but one that feels authored from personal experience and performed with genuine emotional investment. The studio version of “Ēnā” is probably the package’s biggest strength. Produced with a minimalist palette, it leans on ambient textures, subtle piano lines and a slow-building arrangement that avoids the overblown clichés often associated with Eurovision ballads. The song is concise, yet it develops a clear emotional arc – moving from subdued introspection to a more impassioned climax. However, the production can feel slightly safe; whilst polished, it doesn’t often shock, and listeners accustomed to more experimental entries may find the structure to be somewhat predictable. The lyrics of “Ēnā” are where the song truly resonates. Translating to “In the shadow”, it contains themes of emotional neglect, family trauma and quiet endurance. Lines including “slowly, slowly you grow more silent” encapsulate the gradual erosion of identity in difficult, sometimes impossible, circumstances. The narrative, tied to experiences of growing up around addiction, adds a layer of authenticity that elevates the song beyond generic heartbreak. Still, for non-Latvian speakers, much of this nuance risks being lost in translation, which could limit its immediate impact on a broader Eurovision audience.

The official music video reinforces the song’s tone with muted visuals and symbolic imagery, emphasising isolation and introspection rather than spectacle. It complements the track effectively, though does little to expand its interpretation. This reflects a wider issue with the package: “Ēnā” is consistent in its artistic vision, but rarely ventures outside it. At the national final Supernova, Atvara delivered a vocally assured performance that secured victory with both the jury and the televote. The staging was understated, focussing on mood and lighting rather than choreography. Although this suited the song, a couple of moments of vocal shakiness early in the performance (likely the result of nerves) contributed to questions as to whether the staging was visually memorable enough to stand out in a competitive field. At the same time, lots of fans praised the emotional delivery and vocal quality, suggesting strong jury appeal in Vienna. Fan reactions more generally have exposed a bit of a divide, with some seeing it as beautiful and mesmerising, whilst others finding it too conventional for a ballad, lacking the distinctiveness needed to dominate a Eurovision field. This split reception reflects the song’s well-crafted but not necessarily boundary-pushing nature. In Vienna, “Ēnā” is probably another borderline qualifier. It is emotionally authentic, has a jury-friendly composition and a strong vocal performance which should hopefully shore up support, but its understated nature and reliance on lyrical understanding may limit its televote appeal. Qualification is, again, possible, but far from guaranteed.

In summary, I think “Ēnā” is a quietly compelling entry. It may not be dominating headlines or televoting, but it offers something more subtle: a sincere, artist-driven moment in a contest often defined by spectacle. For listeners who value emotional depth over immediate impact, it stands out – though whether that will translate into Eurovision success remains uncertain.

My Score: 9