Eurovision 2026 Reviews: Part 7

We're nearly there: Eurovision 2026 is about to kick off in Vienna so it's about time I shared my thoughts on the last of this year's entries. This time, I'm discussing Austria, Bulgaria, Israel, Luxembourg and Sweden.

Bulgaria: Dara – “Bangaranga”

Bulgaria is one of three countries returning to the Eurovision Song Contest this year. After a string of good results in the late 2010s, the country withdrew from Eurovision in 2023 citing financial concerns. This year, however, Bulgaria is back and held a two-stage national selection to choose its entry. In the first stage of the process, Dara was chosen from a line-up of fifteen prominent artists, and the song “Bangaranga” was then selected over two others. The song is a deliberately chaotic slice of modern Eurovision pop: loud, hyperactive and designed to be an assault on the senses. It blends aggressive electro-pop production with Balkan-inspired imagery and an intentionally anarchic hook. It’s catchy almost by brute force, though I’m not sure whether that will leave much of a lasting impact. Dara is already a major mainstream public figure in Bulgaria, having built herself a reputation through radio-friendly pop hits, whilst also serving as a mentor on The Voice of Bulgaria. “Bangaranga” feels like the logical extension of her recent artistic direction, which has been marked by an attempt to move beyond straightforward commercial pop into a more eclectic, internationally styled sound. The studio version is undeniably effective on first listen. With producers including Eurovision veteran Dmitris Kontopoulos, the track is packed with sharp transitions, pounding percussion and layered vocal effects. It aims for sensory overload in the same way that recent high-energy Eurovision entries like “Unicorn” or “SloMo” did, though this one is messier and less structurally disciplined. The verses flirt with dark electropop, the pre-chorus suddenly turns cinematic, and the chorus erupts into repetitive chanting. Some in the fan community have found that exciting and exhilarating, though I tend to hear it as several unfinished ideas stitched together, or perhaps more pertinently a song crafted specifically to include that viral ‘TikTok’ moment.

The titular hook is memorable but also somewhat hollow. Lyrically, the song leans heavily on slogans and identity statements such as “I’m an angel, I’m a demon, I’m a psycho for no reason”. The words are functional rather than profound, serving rhythm and attitude instead of storytelling. Dara appears less interested in conveying a coherent narrative than in creating an atmosphere of rebellion and chaos. That approach works in a club context, but over three minutes it can feel repetitive. The song constantly promises danger and intensity without ever revealing much beneath the surface. The music video, does, however, improve the package considerably. Drawing inspiration from Bulgarian kukeri traditions and ritual imagery, it gives the song a stronger cultural identity. The contrast between traditional costumes, fire-lit scenes and futuristic styling creates a striking aesthetic that helps distinguish Bulgaria from the sea of generic dance-pop entries often found at Eurovision. The visual symbolism is more interesting than the lyrics themselves, hinting towards folklore, rebellion and transformation without becoming overly literal. Viewers unconvinced by the song may remember the imagery. Dara’s national final performance, however, exposed some weaknesses. Her charisma and confidence were undeniable, and she clearly understands how to command a camera, but the staging occasionally felt overstuffed. Rapid choreography, lighting changes and heavy backing track support all created an impression of controlled chaos, though not always in a positive sense. Several people have noted online that the composition and staging felt a bit ‘all over the place’, even whilst acknowledging the song’s competitiveness. Vocally, Dara delivered adequately but not spectacularly. The performance relied more on energy and personality than flawless live staging, which could become an issue when she is up against stronger vocalists in Vienna. As for its Eurovision prospects, Bulgaria has a realistic chance of qualifying from the semi-final this year. The song is immediate, visually memorable and contemporary enough to stand out for televoters. Its biggest strength is its unapologetic commitment to spectacle, but its biggest weakness is that beneath the spectacle there is not much depth. “Bangaranga” feels engineered for a strong impression in the moment rather than long-term musical longevity.

Still, Eurovision often rewards entries with confidence and identity over subtlety. Even if this song is too chaotic to become a classic, it succeeds at being memorable – and in Eurovision, that already counts for a great deal.

My Score: 5.5

Luxembourg: Eva Marija – “Mother Nature”

Eva Marija, this year’s Luxembourgish Eurovision entrant, is coming into the contest with a carefully constructed package: youthful charisma, credible musicianship and a song that aims for emotional sincerity rather than instant spectacle. “Mother Nature” is an accessible folk-pop anthem built around themes of self-acceptance, healing and reconnecting with nature. It’s polished and undeniably sweet, but does have weaknesses that I fear may limit the long-term impact of the package. Eva herself is one of the more interesting new artists in this year’s field. Born in Luxembourg to Slovenian parents, she trained at the Conservatoire de Luxembourg and later studied songwriting in London. She is also an accomplished violinist, and was inspired to pursue music after watching Alexander Rybak win Eurovision in 2009. That background matters because “Mother Nature” feels shaped by someone with formal musical instincts rather than purely commercial songwriting ambitions. The track combines organic instrumentation with modern Eurovision-friendly production, co-written with experienced Scandinavian songwriters. The studio version is, in one word, pleasant. I don’t mean that to sound quite as disparaging as it does! It wastes little time establishing its atmosphere: airy percussion, swelling folk-pop textures and a chorus designed to feel uplifting without becoming bombastic. The production is smooth and radio-friendly, although perhaps overly safe. One of my main criticisms is that the song never fully escalates emotionally. The chorus – “Mother Nature, she knows” – is memorable enough, but circles around the same melodic ideas repeatedly instead of building towards a genuine climax. There are also moments where the song feels heavily engineered for Eurovision trends. The earthy imagery, rhythmic stomps and vaguely spiritual messaging recall several earlier contest entries, especially the folk-pop style popularised over the past decade. Comparisons to Birdy’s “Keeping Your Head Up” became significant enough that RTL consulted with the EBU over plagiarism accusations before the song was ultimately cleared to compete. Whilst the similarities may be slightly overstated (at least in my opinion), they do highlight a broader issue, which is that “Mother Nature” occasionally feels derivative rather than fully distinctive.

The lyrics of “Mother Nature” are earnest but simplistic. The central metaphor of “digging roots in the mud” and reconnecting with nature as a pathway to emotional healing is easy to understand and emotionally universal. That simplicity may work well with casual Eurovision viewers. However, lines like “letting go of all my sins” and “Mother Nature, she knows” remain fairly generic and repetitive. The lyrics communicate mood more effectively than narrative or personality. The listener leaves the song understanding the intended feeling, but not necessarily learning much about Eva Marija herself as an artist. Where the package improves considerably is, for me, in its live performance. At the Luxembourg Song Contest, Eva delivered one of this season’s most confident national final performances. Barefoot staging, warm lighting and natural choreography complemented the song’s organic themes without becoming overly theatrical. More importantly, she sold the song with genuine conviction. Her stage presence is relaxed and inviting rather than overly calculated, bringing authenticity to the performance. Vocally, she was strong throughout, handling the chorus with ease whilst maintaining emotional warmth. Many Eurovision fans are of the opinion that Eva’s charisma elevates material that might otherwise feel somewhat too slight. Arguably, the live rendition actually exposes one flaw of the studio version, in that Eva Marija is more compelling than her song. Her natural charm and musicality create emotional connection where the composition alone sometimes struggles. In Vienna, I think Luxembourg’s path to the final is tricky and uncertain. On the positive side, “Mother Nature” is accessible enough to attract viewers looking for warmth and sincerity amid more aggressive or eccentric entries. The live performance also feels jury-friendly thanks to its professionalism and vocal reliability. However, the song risks being forgotten among stronger emotional ballads and more memorable high-concept performances.

Ultimately, “Mother Nature” succeeds more through atmosphere and performer charisma than songwriting originality. It’s pleasant, sincere and professionally executed, but rarely surprising. Eva Marija clearly has significant potential as an artist, and Eurovision may prove to be an important launching pad for her career. The song itself leaving a lasting mark on the contest seems less likely.

My Score: 6.5

Israel: Noam Bettan – “Michelle”

Israel’s participation in the Eurovision Song Contest continues to cause huge amounts of controversy among fans and in wider discourse. I have tried to address this controversy already on this blog, in my statement on this year’s contest which you can read here. At the end of the day, I have decided to cover this year’s Israeli entry, though I would once again like to emphasise that coverage does not equal endorsement, and I am committed to questioning and contextualising everything that happens at Eurovision. With that being said, let’s turn to Noam Bettan, who is bringing the song “Michelle” to Vienna. The song is a dramatic, multilingual pop track that feels carefully engineered for the contest’s modern landscape – emotional enough for juries, immediate enough for televoters and theatrical enough for the big stage. It blends French chanson influences with contemporary Mediterranean pop and electronic production. The result is polished and certainly competitive, though perhaps not always as distinctive as it tries to be. Noam himself is an interesting figure. Born to a French-Jewish family originally from Grenoble, he grew up speaking Hebrew, French and English, a multilingual background that clearly shapes his music. Before Eurovision, he had already built a modest profile in Israel, boosted by his victory in HaKokhav HaBa, the television competition used to select Israel’s Eurovision representative. His performance style leans heavily on emotional intensity: expressive vocals, dramatic phrasing and a constant sense of urgency. At times this works extremely well, though at others it risks feeling overwrought. The studio version of “Michelle” is professionally assembled, with sleek production and a structure designed to escalate steadily towards a euphoric climax. The opening is relatively restrained, with Noam singing over moody instrumentation before the song gradually expands into pounding percussion and layered backing vocals. The transitions between languages are smoother than they could have been, and the French sections in particular give the song a sophistication that separates it from more generic Eurovision dance-pop. Still, the song occasionally feels derivative. There are echoes of contemporary French-language pop artists like Slimane and Stromae, whilst some melodic turns recall Eurovision entries from recent years rather than forging a unique identity of its own. I’ve heard people online comparing the track to other emotionally charged francophone entries, praising its energy but questioning its originality. That criticism, to me, is fair – “Michelle” is expertly crafted, but rarely surprises the listener after the first chorus.

Lyrically, the song tells the story of a destructive romance, portraying Michelle as both muse and tormentor. Noam repeatedly describes the relationship as toxic, balancing bitterness with longing. Lines such as “Michelle, it’s a toxic love” and “I’m letting you go but I love you” capture the song’s emotional contradiction. The multilingual approach enhances the atmosphere, though it sometimes feels more strategic than organic – as if each language has been selected to maximise Eurovision appeal rather than deepen the storytelling. The English section is arguably the weakest lyrical moment, sounding vague compared with the sharper French and Hebrew passages. The official music video reinforces the song’s melodrama with striking but familiar Eurovision imagery: dark lighting, tightly choreographed dancers, emotional close-ups and symbolic staging centred on obsession and emotional collapse. Noam is charismatic throughout, and the video effectively sells him as a committed performer rather than merely a technically strong singer. However, visually it follows the current Eurovision aesthetic template very closely. Nothing in the clip feels especially risky or innovative, and some scenes appear designed more for social media snippets and reaction videos than artistic coherence. As a Eurovision contender, “Michelle” has real strengths. Noam is vocally reliable, the chorus is memorable after a single listen and the hook gives the song international accessibility. It also benefits from Israel’s recent Eurovision momentum and Noam’s strong stage presence. On the other hand, this year’s competition is, in my opinion, particularly strong, and “Michelle” may struggle to stand up to entries with more originality or emotional subtlety.

The most realistic outcome for this is probably a solid top-ten finish rather than a victory. The song is too polished and accessible to fail altogether, but it lacks the singular quality usually associated with Eurovision winners. “Michelle” succeeds as a well-executed contemporary Eurovision entry – emotional, commercially viable and highly performable – but stops short of being genuinely unforgettable.

My Score: 8

Sweden: Felicia – “My System”

Two years ago, Swedish musical act Fröken Snusk competed in Melodifestivalen, the country’s Eurovision selection process. She narrowly failed to qualify for the final with her song “Unga & fria”. Underneath the trademark pink balaclava was Felicia Eriksson, though last year she was replaced in her role as she transitioned to a solo career. Behind this is a long story of awful controlling treatment that I don’t have the space to share here, but thankfully Felicia is thriving, and after winning this year’s Melodifestivalen convincingly, she is heading to Eurovision with her song “My System”. On the surface, it’s exactly the kind of song Sweden has become known for at Eurovision: polished, immediate and ruthlessly engineered for maximum impact. It feels designed to dominate a three-minute television performance, and succeeds in many ways. The studio version is a strong asset of the package. Built around pounding EDM production and a sleek electro-pop hook, it recalls early-2010s Eurodance whilst still sounding contemporary enough for Spotify playlists. It’s reminiscent of Cascada, and this comparison is understandable when one considers the sense of relentless momentum, glossy synthesisers and oversized chorus designed for instant memorability. The production is crisp and efficient, with sharp electronic textures and a heavy bassline that gives real lift to the chorus. At the same time, the song can feel somewhat over-calculated. Sweden has long perfected the art of technically flawless Eurovision pop, but “My System” occasionally struggles to reveal much personality beneath its immaculate surface. The structure is almost aggressively efficient: verse, build, drop, repeat. There is little room for surprise or emotional development. The track delivers exactly what listeners expect from the opening seconds, which makes is both highly accessible and slightly predictable.

The lyrics of “My System” explores the familiar theme of toxic attachment and emotional relapse. Lines including “You’re in my head, my heart, my body parts” (side note: seriously?) and “I can’t get you out of my system” communicate the obsession clearly and fit the technological metaphor running through the song. The writing is functional rather than poetic, prioritising rhythmic punch and singalong repetition over nuance. Some lines are effective in their simplicity, particularly the contrast between weekday detachment and weekend vulnerability, but other moments lean heavily into cliché. The lyrics are unlikely to resonate on the deeper emotional level achieved by stronger Swedish entries such as “Hold Me Closer” or “Tattoo”. But the national final performance is where “My System” truly came alive. Sweden’s staging team once again demonstrated why SVT remains Eurovision’s gold standard for televised presentation. The performance relied heavily on dynamic camera cuts, strobing lights and sharply choreographed movement to create a dark, futuristic nightclub atmosphere. Many viewers praised how ‘Eurovision-ready’ the staging already appeared during Melodifestivalen. However, the performance wasn’t flawless. Felicia’s masked aesthetic gives her a distinctive visual identity, especially considering her complicated transition from the Fröken Snusk persona to her solo career. Yet the mask also creates emotional distance. Eurovision audiences often connect most strongly through facial expression and vulnerability, and some viewers felt the concealed face weakened the emotional connection of the song. There are also moments where the choreography appears restrained for such a high-energy track. The production often compensates for this through clever camerawork, but the reliance on visual tricks occasionally exposes a lack of raw stage charisma. Sweden is once again entering the contest as a likely top-ten contender. Betting markets and fan discussions have consistently placed “My System” among the stronger entries of the year. The song has obvious strengths: instant memorability, professional staging and strong replay value. Jurors are likely to reward the slick production and compositional precision, whilst televoters should respond well to the explosive chorus.

Still, there are reasons to doubt its winning chances. Eurovision winners increasingly tend to offer either emotional authenticity or striking originality, and “My System” arguably lacks both. It is extremely competent but rarely surprising. In a weaker year, that may be enough to challenge for the victory, but in a stronger field such as this, it risks being admired more than loved. The most realistic outcome seems to be another successful Swedish result, but perhaps not another Swedish win.

My Score: 8.5

Austria: Cosmó – “Tanzschein”

Just like last year, I’ve decided to end my review series with the host country. This year, Austria held a national final for the first time since 2016 to select its Eurovision entry, which produced Cosmó with the song “Tanzschein”. It’s one of this year’s more divisive Eurovision entries: a knowingly eccentric electro-pop track that mixes satire, club culture and absurd humour into three minutes that are either infectiously memorable or deeply irritating, depending on the listener’s tolerance for novelty. As Austria’s host entry for this year’s contest, it arrives with a certain amount of expectation, but also with a sense that the country is deliberately swerving away from the polished emotional drama that brought the country its victory in 2025. The studio version is constructed around a pounding techno-pop beat with flashes of house and Neue Deutsche Welle influences. Musically, “Tanzschein” thrives on repetition: the hook “You need a dance licence” is engineered to lodge itself in the brain after a single listen. The production is slick without sounding overworked, and the bass-heavy arrangement captures the chaotic energy of a crowded nightclub effectively. What keeps the song from collapsing into pure gimmickry is that Cosmó commits fully to its strange universe. His vocal performance is intentionally theatrical, shifting between deadpan spoken passages and exaggerated melodic phrases. At the same time, the song can feel stubbornly one-dimensional. Once the central joke is established, “Tanzschein” does not evolve very much musically. The chorus returns so often that listeners who are not charmed the first time may find the track exhausting before the final minute. There is also a sense that the instrumental never quite reaches the promised explosive climax. A harder techno breakdown or a more dramatic final section could have elevated the song from entertaining to properly thrilling. Lyrically, “Tanzschein” is more interesting than it first appears. The song presents a surreal nightclub populated by predatory animals – lions, dogs and other creatures behaving badly under neon lights. Cosmó’s proposed solution is absurdly bureaucratic: only people with a “dance licence” are allowed inside. Beneath the humour lies a critique of performative club culture and macho behaviour, with dancing positioned as a form of sincerity and communal release rather than posturing. The metaphor is clever enough to reward repeated listens, although some of the lyrical imagery feels underdeveloped. The satire is broad rather than sharp, and international audiences unfamiliar with German humour may miss some of the song’s tone entirely.

The music video leans heavily into disorientation and surrealism, bathing everything in blurry neon colours and frenetic camera movement. It effectively communicates the intoxicated atmosphere the song aims for, but it arguably overdoes the visual chaos. Several Eurovision fans have noted that the cleaner visual style of the national final performance actually served the song better because the choreography and comic timing were easier to follow. The video succeeds aesthetically, but not always functionally; it enhances the mood whilst slightly obscuring the song’s personality. On stage for the national final performance, Cosmó projected an awkward but genuine charisma that suited the song’s offbeat identity. Rather than trying to look effortlessly cool, he embraced the track’s ridiculousness, and that honesty made the performance strangely compelling. The choreography was intentionally odd, the staging neon-drenched and chaotic, but there was a coherent sense of identity throughout. Vocally, he was not flawless, yet the rougher live sound arguably benefitted the song by making it feel less synthetic. More recent live performances suggest he has already improved vocally since the national final. As for its Eurovision prospects, this one is difficult to predict. It’s almost certainly too eccentric and linguistically specific to become a jury favourite, and my instinct says that it will struggle near the bottom of the scoreboard. However, Eurovision audiences often respond warmly to entries with strong personality and memorable hooks, especially when they feel authentic rather than manufactured. The song’s televote potential depends almost entirely on staging: if Austria can amplify the humour and sharpen the live presentation, it could become a cult favourite and comfortably reach the left-hand side of the board with the public vote. If the performance feels messy or inaccessible, it risks being dismissed as a novelty entry.

Either way, “Tanzschein” is unlikely to be forgotten – and that alone already gives it an advantage over safer, more generic Eurovision songs.

My Score: 3.5

And just like that, I've reviewed every participating entry in this year's Eurovision Song Contest. In my opinion, it's quite a strong field, definitely an improvement on last year, with few songs I actually dislike though perhaps few that I think will go down in history as an all-time favourite. Anyway, before Eurovision week rolls around again, here's my top ten:

1 point: Australia

2 points: Cyprus

3 points: Israel

4 points: Malta

5 points: France

6 points: Denmark

7 points: Sweden

8 points: Finland

10 points: Albania

12 points: Latvia

Latvia's “Ēnā” is my personal favourite song this year, but I think the chances of Atvara taking the trophy next week are slim. If I had to go out on a limb at this point and predict a winner, I think I'd probably be looking at either Denmark or France, with Finland potentially in a position to come round the outside if the results end up being as split as they were last year.