Eurovision 2026 Reviews: Part 6

With only a fortnight to go until the Eurovision Song Contest 2026, the songs are becoming more and more familiar by the day. I've reviewed most of this year's entries already (find those here), and now I am continuing the journey with Australia, Belgium, Finland, Norway and Ukraine.

Belgium: Essyla – “Dancing on the Ice”

Belgium’s unique system for selecting its Eurovision entries means that this year, Flemish broadcaster RTBF is in charge, having last been at the helm in 2024. Whilst its Walloon counterpart VRT tends to organise a national final, RTBF generally selects its entries internally, and this year is no different, with The Voice Belgique finalist Essyla going forward to represent the country with her song “Dancing on the Ice”. It’s a polished but rather generic slice of contemporary electro-pop. It has clear artistic intent and competent production, but raises concerns in me surrounding memorability and competitive impact. In its studio form, “Dancing on the Ice” is sleek and carefully engineered. The track leans into a modern electro-pop aesthetic with understated beats, layered synth textures and subtle dynamic progression. The arrangement, like several of this year’s entries, prioritises atmosphere over immediate hooks, gradually building to a fuller final chorus rather than relying on a single explosive moment. I see this approach as both a strength and a weakness of the package. On one hand, the song feels cohesive and ‘refined’ in its sound design, with Essyla’s controlled vocal performance sitting comfortably within the mix. On the other, the whole thing risks blending into the broader Eurovision soundscape. The song has a certain repetitiveness about it and lacks a particular melodic identity, which makes me think it might struggle to distinguish itself in a crowded field. Lyrically, the song discusses ideas of emotional instability, self-awareness and the allure of risk in relationships. The central metaphor – “dancing on the ice” – captures the tension between fragility and exhilaration, reinforced by recurring contrasts between heat and cold. There are moments of clarity, particularly in the chorus (“I keep dancing on the ice / Where everything dies / … ‘cause I feel alive”), which effectively encapsulate the song’s theme of embracing instability. However, the verses occasionally feel abstract to the point of incoherence. Lines such as “That wheel is hot and I’m driving / Rain’s a goner, but I’m sinking” create vivid imagery but lack narrative cohesion. This inconsistency has the potential to divide the Eurovision audience: some may appreciate the poetic ambiguity, whilst others might find the lyrics underdeveloped or unintentionally confusing. The song’s emotional core is present, but its delivery is uneven.

The official music video leans heavily on choreography and visual symbolism, featuring multiple dancers and a contemporary, sensual aesthetic. The focus on movement aligns well with the song’s central metaphor, reinforcing the idea of resilience through motion. Visually, it is stylish and cohesive, though not particularly groundbreaking. The reliance on dance as the primary visual device is effective but familiar, and the video stops short of offering a striking or instantly iconic concept – it supports the song rather than elevates it. Live delivery is likely to be a decisive factor for Belgium this year. If Essyla manages to maintain her characteristic strong vocal control and versatility, the package should translate well on stage. However, the studio version’s layered production and vocal processing may be difficult to replicate on stage in a way that feels satisfying. I think there is reason to be optimistic, but I am slightly concerned, given the largely negative reaction to Essyla’s first live performance of the song on Belgian TV. Belgium, and especially RTBF, has a patchy track record when it comes to staging its Eurovision entries – and if this package is presented badly, I think it has the potential to fall flat, particularly with the televote. Without a compelling visual hook or standout live moment, the track risks feeling static. In terms of its chances in Vienna, “Dancing on the Ice” is probably one of the more mid-tier entries. It’s competent, contemporary and unlikely to alienate viewers – but it may also struggle to inspire strong televote support. The package in its current form suffers from the absence of a clear ‘call to vote’ moment or unique selling point, often crucial in Eurovision. That said, I think there is a path for this to squeak through to the final. With effective staging, strong vocals and a clear artistic vision, the juries could get behind this and position Essyla as one of this year’s dark horses. More realistically, however, Belgium faces an uphill battle to stand out among more immediate or distinctive entries.

“Dancing on the Ice” is a well-crafted but understated Eurovision entry. Its strengths lie in its polished production, thematic ambition and vocal performance, whilst its weaknesses stem from uneven lyrics and a lack of immediate memorability. Ultimately, its success will depend less on the studio track itself and more on whether Essyla can transform it into a compelling live performance.

My Score: 4.5

Finland: Linda Lampenius and Pete Parkkonen – “Liekinheitin”

Finland is arguably one of the biggest Eurovision powerhouses at the moment. Year after year, its national final UMK is commended by critics and fans alike for its quality, and the country’s entries are regularly in contention to do very well. This year’s effort, “Liekinheitin” by Linda Lampenius and Pete Parkkonen is one of those Eurovision entries that feels meticulously engineered for the contest – sometimes to its benefit but occasionally to its detriment. After a decisive victory at UMK back in February, the song is coming in to Eurovision carrying both momentum and expectation. The studio version is immediately polished and accessible. Built around a mid-tempo pop structure with cinematic flourishes, it leans heavily on the contrast between Pete’s warm, slightly gritty vocal tone and Linda’s sweeping violin lines. This interplay gives the track a distinctive texture, even if the underlying composition is relatively conventional. Whilst the song’s instrumental identity is strong, and its climax truly explosive, I would also note the lack of a properly memorable hook. My main criticism with “Liekinheitin” is that the song builds effectively, but the chorus doesn’t quite land with the instant recognisability that often defines Eurovision winners. Still, the production is undeniably sleek, and the gradual escalation towards the final refrain is satisfying on repeated listens. The lyrics of “Liekinheitin” (which means “flamethrower”) trades in heightened emotion and metaphor, evoking themes of passion, intensity and perhaps destructive love. Even without understanding the Finnish language, the delivery communicates a palpable sense of urgency and drama. However, there is a slight disconnect between the title and the chorus, which possibly weakens the song’s conceptual clarity ever so slightly. For audiences who don’t speak Finnish, or are hearing the song for the first time (i.e. the majority of Eurovision viewers), this may not matter much, but for me it contributes to a sense that the song is more about atmosphere than narrative precision.

The music video for “Liekinheitin” reinforces this emphasis on mood. The visuals lean into dark, stylised imagery and performance-focussed shots, presenting Linda as a commanding, almost mythic figure alongside Pete’s more grounded presence. The aesthetic successfully complements the dramatic art, but doesn’t radically reinterpret it. If anything, the video plays things a bit safe, opting for a cohesive but predictable visual language rather than something really striking. Where “Liekinheitin” truly comes alive, however, is in its live presentation. The UMK performance was unapologetically theatrical, with dramatic lighting, fiery motifs and a clear attempt to create a ‘moment’. Linda’s violin – whether live or mimed – adds a visual and sonic hook that elevates the staging, whilst Pete delivers a confident vocal. That said, I’m not sure the staging elements fully cohere; it feels like there is a slight mismatch between concept and execution – though I do acknowledge that I am being very picky here. The performance clearly resonated with audiences, winning the public vote by a landslide. Finland appears to be in a strong position heading to Eurovision. “Liekinheitin” is generally considered by the fan community as one of the songs that is both jury-friendly and televote-accessible, combining technical polish with enough visual drama to stand out. Both critics and bookmakers have tipped this as a potential contender for the victory, reflecting its broad appeal. However, its ‘Eurovision-ness’ could end up being a double-edged sword. The more cynical members of the audience may argue that it borders on self-parody, though such maximalism is often what succeeds in a competitive environment such as Eurovision.

Overall, “Liekinheitin” is a strong, well-crafted entry that plays to Finland’s recent strengths: bold staging, memorable instrumentation and emotional intensity. It definitely isn’t the most original song in the line-up, and its hook could probably be sharper, but its professionalism and impact are hard to deny. Its status as a favourite feels justified – but it’s definitely not unbeatable.

My Score: 9

Ukraine: Leléka – “Ridnym”

Ukraine’s relationship with the Eurovision Song Contest has been surprisingly consistent over the last two decades, given the country’s unimaginable suffering. Since making its debut in 2003, Ukraine has never failed to qualify for the final and has won the contest three times, often succeeding with politically and culturally resonant entries like Jamala’s “1944”. This reputation creates a high bar for any new act, and Leléka’s “Ridnym”, selected through the national final Vidbir, is a continuation of Ukraine’s long-standing custom of blending tradition and contemporary storytelling. At its core, “Ridnym” is an ethno-infused art-pop piece that leans heavily on atmosphere rather than immediate impact. The studio version centres delicate instrumentation – most notably the bandura, the prominence of which was increased in a Eurovision revamp to place cultural identity at the foreground. The arrangement is patient, almost meditative – gradually layering vocals and textures until it reaches a restrained but emotional climax. This slow-burn approach is artistically coherent but risks feeling underpowered in a competition often dominated by instant hooks. Vocally, however, the package is undeniably strong. Leléka’s background in jazz composition and theatrical performance is evident in the precision and control of her delivery. The melody allows for sustained notes and dynamic phrasing, giving the song a sense of organic growth rather than formulaic structure. Still, the studio cut can feel slightly too polished; some of the rawness that makes the live versions compelling is softened here, reducing its emotional immediacy. “Ridnym” operates in a symbolic register lyrically speaking. Lines including “When all the seeds we’ve sown / Blossom and lead us home” evoke themes of resilience, continuity and belonging. The repeated motif of stitching (“I will stitch a new destiny”) functions as a metaphor for rebuilding – particularly poignant given Ukraine’s recent history. The bilingual approach, mixing English with several Ukrainian phrases, reinforces both accessibility and cultural specificity. However, the abstract imagery can verge on generic; whilst evocative, it lacks the sharp narrative clarity that has made past Ukrainian entries so impactful.

The official music video and revamped Eurovision version emphasise roots and symbolism over spectacle. Visually and sonically, the focus remains on intimacy – close framing, natural imagery and the centrality of the bandura. This aesthetic coherence strengthens the song’s identity but could struggle to translate in a large arena setting, where the more subtle details often get lost. That concern was partly mitigated by the national final performance. At Vidbir, “Ridnym” stood out for its sincerity and vocal execution, winning both the jury vote and televote. Whilst effective domestically, it didn’t yet demonstrate the kind of visual innovation that Ukraine is known for at Eurovision. Historically, the Ukrainian delegation has been known to elevate entries significantly between the national selection and Eurovision itself, so further refinement is likely. In terms of its Eurovision prospects, “Ridnym” should be a safe qualifier given Ukraine’s track record and sizeable diaspora. Its jury appeal could potentially be boosted by the quality of the composition and vocals, but its televote performance beyond the aforementioned diaspora may depend heavily on the staging. Without a more striking visual concept or a clearer emotional hook, it risks being overshadowed by other entries on the Saturday night. On the other hand, its authenticity and cultural grounding could position it as a dark horse if presented effectively.

To conclude, “Ridnym” is a thoughtful, well-crafted entry that prioritises mood and meaning over spectacle. It aligns with Ukraine’s tradition of culturally rooted storytelling but does so in a more understated way. Whether that subtlety translates into competitive success will depend ultimately on how the package is staged in Vienna.

My Score: 6

Norway: Jonas Lovv – “Ya Ya Ya”

“Ya Ya Ya” by Jonas Lovv is one of the more distinctive rock entries in this year’s Eurovision line-up, but its appeal is somewhat uneven. Whilst undeniably energetic and memorable, it also has some unfortunate structural and compositional weaknesses that could limit its competitive impact. The studio version presents the song as a compact, glam-influenced rock track, driven by punchy guitar riffs and a steady, mid-tempo beat. It has a raw, almost retro quality, attracting comparisons to more theatrical rock acts without fully committing to that level of musical sophistication. The production is clean but somewhat sparse; there are moments where the instrumental backing feels thin, particularly in the verses, which rely heavily on Jonas’ vocal charisma to maintain momentum. This minimalism can be effective, but here it occasionally comes across as underdeveloped rather than intentional. The weakest component of “Ya Ya Ya” is probably its lyrics. The song leans heavily on repetition, with the titular hook dominating the chorus and large portions of the structure. Lines such as “baby I’m an animal, I got no self control” and “bang bang goes that broken heart” suggest a mix of sensuality and emotional turmoil, but the imagery is fairly generic and lacks narrative depth. The repetition does make the song instantly memorable – a major asset in a Eurovision context – but it also risks feeling monotonous over repeated listens. Some in the fan community have noted that this simplicity may be a deliberate attempt to create a ‘sticky’ hook, though this arguably comes at the expense of lyrical nuance.

The music video leans into Jonas’ persona as a flamboyant, high-energy performer. Visually, it centres attitude rather than storytelling, with stylised lighting, bold fashion choices and a strong focus on Jonas’ expressions and movements. Whilst this reinforces his identity as a charismatic frontman, the video does little to expand the song’s thematic content. It functions more as a branding exercise than a narrative companion piece, which may limit its memorability compared to more concept-driven Eurovision videos. By contrast, this song fully came alive during the performance at Melodi Grand Prix. Jonas’ stage presence – noted during previous television appearances – is central to the appeal of the package. He delivers the track with confidence, engaging directly with the audience and camera in a way that genuinely elevates the otherwise repetitive composition. Reports from the show have focussed on an energetic and charismatic delivery that secured victory with both the jury and the televote. All this is to say that “Ya Ya Ya” is fundamentally a performance-driven piece: it thrives in a live setting where personality can compensate for musical simplicity. Although, that being said, I do have my concerns. Jonas’ live vocals have been inconsistent in pre-Eurovision appearances, raising questions about his reliability under pressure. Additionally, whilst the staging is effective, it isn’t particularly innovative and may struggle to stand out against more visually ambitious entries. At Eurovision, the outlook for Norway is uncertain. The song’s immediacy, catchy hook and strong performer give it clear televote potential. Its closing position in the semi-final could also work in its favour. On the other hand, the relatively basic lyrics and somewhat underwhelming production may limit its appeal to juries, who typically reward compositional complexity and vocal precision. Qualification is far from guaranteed, and I don’t expect this song to make major waves on the scoreboard.

Ultimately, “Ya Ya Ya” is an excellent example of the importance of performance at Eurovision. As a standalone track, it feels slight and occasionally repetitive; as a live act, it becomes far more compelling. Whether that transformation will be enough to secure a strong result in Vienna will depend largely on Jonas’ ability to deliver a live performance that is flawless and captivating.

My Score: 6.5

Australia: Delta Goodrem – “Eclipse”

Australia has had a very interesting trajectory at Eurovision since making its debut in 2015. Early success positioned the country as a serious contender, but more recent years have brought inconsistent results and even three non-qualifications in five years. Against that backdrop, selecting a high-profile, domestically beloved artist like Delta Goodrem feels like a corrective move: a return to vocal reliability and mainstream appeal rather than experimentation. “Eclipse” arrives as Australia’s 2026 Eurovision entry with a sense of calculated prestige. It is a polished, piano-led power ballad that leans heavily on Delta’s established strengths, but also exposes some of the creative conservatism that has increasingly defined Australia’s Eurovision strategy. Delta herself brings considerable pedigree. A multi-platinum artist with over nine million records sold and a career spanning music, television and theatre, she represents a rare case of an established star entering Eurovision relatively late in her career. Her background – particularly her reputation as a pianist and emotional balladeer – clearly shapes “Eclipse”. The studio version is technically accomplished but structurally predictable. Opening with restrained piano chords, it gradually layers orchestral elements – string, synths and percussion – towards a climatic final chorus. This dynamic arc is effective, but also familiar to the point of formula. The production is sleek and radio-friendly, with a strong emphasis on clarity and vocal prominence, though it occasionally lacks the sonic risk or distinctiveness needed to stand out in a crowded Eurovision field. In short, it’s incredibly sleek and radio-friendly, but perhaps too safe. The lyrics lean into celestial imagery as a metaphor for romantic unity. Lines including “planets are aligning” and “only love exists when we eclipse” frame love as cosmic inevitability rather than emotional complexity. Whilst this gives the song a universal accessibility, it also leads to a certain vagueness: the imagery is evocative but not especially original, and the repeated hook risks feeling over-insistent rather than transcendent. The metaphor is clear, but arguably overextended.

The music video for “Eclipse” reinforces this thematic approach. Filmed in the sand dunes of Newcastle, it features Delta surrounded by mirrored structures, visually representing light and shadow interplay. The aesthetic is elegant and cohesive, but again somewhat conventional – echoing the ‘cosmic ballad’ visual language seen in past Eurovision entries without significantly reinventing it. Where “Eclipse” may gain ground, particularly with the juries, is in its live performance. Delta is widely regarded as a strong vocalist and experienced performer, and I am expecting the presentation to be professional and well-executed. Many fans expect the song to ‘come alive’ on stage, and the emotional impact of the song will perhaps depend heavily on delivery rather than solely the composition. In terms of competitive prospects, I would place Australia in a respectable but not dominant position; qualification seems likely, but how far it will climb in the final I’m not sure. Australia often struggles with the televote, and I don’t think the predictability, lack of a standout hook and limited innovation on offer in “Eclipse” will help its chances of contending for victory. However, the vocal showcase, polished production and broad appeal should give it a bit of a boost.

In summary, “Eclipse” is a competent and professionally executed entry that plays to Delta Goodrem’s strengths but rarely ventures beyond them. It feels designed to reassure rather than surprise: a safe, elegant return to form for Australia, but not necessarily a bold step forward.

My Score: 7.5