Eurovision 2023: A guide to every country's song Eurovision 2023: A guide to every country's song

Theatrical and dramatic, Albania’s entry carries a strong message about the importance of family, and accepting the people you love for who they are. Impressive vocals and Balkan harmonies build to an appealing chorus, with Albina joined on stage by five members of her own family, including her mum and dad. That plucking noise is the sound of Albina pulling on your heart-strings.

A brooding orchestral ballad, Future Lover is one of those songs that would make perfect sense as a Bond theme. Armenian singer Brunette describes it as “a poetic canvas, a letter with no addressee” – as she paints a picture of the person she hopes, one day, to fall in love with. An accomplished singer and dancer, who’s been performing since she was four, her staging looks set to be as darkly dramatic as the song itself.

“Have you ever done anything like this before?” asks singer Danny Estrin. To which the answer, if you’ve ever flung yourself around a dancefloor to the sounds of Duran Duran, is “yes”. With asymmetric haircuts, pirouetting high-kicks and a totally OTT keytar solo, Voyager are one of this year’s most eye-catching acts.

A whomping dance track about being possessed by the spirit of American poet Edgar Allen Poe, Teya and Salena’s track is a proper earworm. The duo’s humourous approach is a clever vehicle for a lyric that protests the appalling royalty rates songwriters are paid by Spotify and other streaming services, which can be as low as $0.003 per stream. Judging by the music video, the staging will be as delightfully unhinged as the song’s premise.

If you want a song that radiates positivity, then Gustaph has you covered. Because Of You is a superb, hands-in-the-air 1990s house banger, about the acceptance he found from the LGBTQ community. Performed with sincerity, conviction and massive frilly sleeves, this is like being licked in the face by a puppy.

Croatia’s Let 3 have one of the strongest looks of this year’s contestants – decked out in militaristic fetish gear, complete with fake bushy moustaches. Their song is harder to describe but imagine someone cut up segments of Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody, Los Del Rio’s Macarena, Wagner’s The Ring Cycle and the sound of a tractor engine, then reassembled them at random. It’s jarring and strange, and the most audacious song in this year’s contest.

You cannot, Andrew Lambrou explains, break something that has already been broken, although try telling that to my left arm. His Eurovision entry is a soaring, mainstream ballad that would fit snugly next to Lewis Capaldi or Ed Sheeran on any radio playlist. If he can pull off the chorus’s spectacular high notes on the night, he’ll pick up a decent amount of votes.

One for the polyglots, My Sister’s Crown is sung in a combination of Bulgarian, Czech, English and Ukrainian. For that reason, its message of female empowerment has also been interpreted as a show of solidarity for Ukraine, and a condemnation of Russian aggression. Musically strident, it combines Balkan folk melodies and industrial pop in a way that manages to be powerful and catchy at the same time.

There’s some Adele-level emoting from Estonia’s Alika Milova on this soul-searching ballad. She starts off hushed and dejected, describing the hardships she’s endured. But as the song builds to a mesmeric climax, she resolves to leave the past behind and build bridges to the future. In a neat visual metaphor, Alika performs the song with a self-playing piano… but finally takes control of the keyboard as she regains power over her fate.

If it’s sinister techno you want, Käärijä has you covered. His song starts off with vaguely threatening vocals and an evil, detuned synth line. But somewhere around the half-way mark, the darkness is replaced by a joyous J-pop chorus. It makes absolutely no sense until you learn the song is about shedding your inhibitions after a few drinks. Sure to be a live highlight, Käärijä performs wearing inflatable green Hulk sleeves, surrounded by crimson red Cha Cha dancers. Because why not?

France always likes to make a virtue of its Frenchness at Eurovision, and this year’s entry is no exception. Evidemment is a sultry, passionate torch song that imagines what Daft Punk would have done in the studio with Edith Piaf. As sophisticated as the Cannes red carpet, and as sumptuous as a soufflé au chocolat, this is a potential winner.

Fans of German band Lord of The Lost have described them as “cringe metal”, a label they seem to wear with pride. Blood & Glitter, the title track of their eighth album, is a cheesy, campy, glam metal riot that leaves equal space for dancing and head-banging. Fans of leather studs and pyrotechnics should be happy.

One of Israel’s biggest pop stars, Noa Kirel is set to explode onto the Eurovision stage in Liverpool. A five-time MTV Award winner, she can slay the most intricate choreography while singing live, and her song is a post-Gaga pop anthem about standing out from the crowd. Standing out shouldn’t be an issue here, even in a year with so many strong female contenders.

Aspirational, uplifting, optimistic. Marco Mengoni’s beautifully sincere song is about the power of dreams to sustain you after a break-up. The way it builds to the final chorus is a masterclass in songwriting, and Mengoni’s controlled but passionate vocals will tug at your heartstrings, even if you don’t speak Italian.

“It ain’t easy to love someone like me,” sighs Monika Linkyte, in this sensitive and windswept torch song. It’s both a recognition of how hard it is to help someone through depression, and a desperate plea for that help to stick around. Sung in English, except for the coda “čiūto tūto” which is a meditative sound used in Lithuanian folk rituals, Stay is the sound of devastation writ large.

Will it be third time lucky for Moldova’s Pasha Parfeni? After taking 11th place in 2012 and 2013, he’s back with Soarele Si Luna - a rabid dancefloor banger that mixes folklore, flutes and an unforgiving house beat. Punchy and charismatic, it comes complete with dancers in antlers and two giant kettle drums. On visuals alone, it’ll be one of the night’s standouts.

It takes a while to get going but, once it’s in motion, Alessandra’s Queen of Kings is a relentless juggernaut of pyrotechnic pop. Its debt to the likes of Lady Gaga and Ava Max is barely-disguised, but does that really matter when it results in a chorus this infectious? Already one of the most-streamed songs of the contest, with about 40 million plays on Spotify, this is a good one to draw in the office sweepstakes.

A carefree bop with a hint of Ace Of Base’s lilting, reggae-pop vibe. On the surface, Solo isn’t the most profound or sophisticated entry this year, but its lyrics convey some important advice: It’s better to stay single than settle for someone who isn’t right for you. Blanka’s staging captures her song’s breezy island vibes, and she’s thrown in some fun hand choreography for fans to practice in advance.

Written over a decade ago, Ai Coração still manages to sound fresh and immediate. Festooned with florid handclaps and clacking castanets, it’s a red-blooded ode to being driven batty by lust. And Mimicat plays up the cabaret aspect in her performance, which is full of voluminous ruffle skirts and knowing winks to the camera. A real treat.

Samo Mi Se Spava is a pulsating electro track that reflects the anxiety many of us feel about re-entering the real world after Covid. Experimental and unsettling, it uses videogame sound effects and disconnected voices to hammer home the idea that we shouldn’t lose touch with our humanity. As Black performs, he unplugs his hypnotized dancers from the matrix, and confronts the world around him. Not for the faint-hearted.

Joker Out deliver a slick, radio-friendly pop rock song, that’s a rather sweet tribute to their love of live music. “The message is simple: Whatever life throws at you – music and dance are always the right answer,” say the five-piece, who are skipping university to come to Liverpool.

Taking its cue from Spain’s pop star of the moment, Rosalía, Eaea fuses the folkloric rhythms of flamenco with an insistent synth line. But the real highlight is Blanca Paloma’s magnificent live vocal, which curls sinuously around the Arabian melody as she explains the debt she owes her female ancestors. Beautifully choreographed, this is a real head-turner.

Former winner Loreen is back for a second attempt at glory, and she’s not taking any chances. Tattoo is a slow-burning electro banger that builds and builds and builds until it breaks the atmosphere and enters orbit. Lyrically, she’s describing a love so deep and intense that it’s become engraved in her heart (like a tattoo, do you see?) – but in reality, the song’s all about her stunning vocals.

An anti-war anthem about two boys who played war games in their youth suddenly being confronted by the horrors of “real blood” and “bodybags” on the frontline. Remo Forrer delivers the lyric with a real sense of dread and melancholy, without falling into histrionics. An effective and moving piano ballad.

“Sometimes you got to know when to stick your middle finger up in the air.” Ukraine’s song is, perhaps understandably, a message of defiance in the face of Russia’s unprovoked invasion of their country. But instead of professing anger or violence, the track is coolly understated – its resistance fuelled by moral certitude. It’s not as flashy or immediate as last year’s winner, Stefania, but the simmering electro track is no less impressive.

The UK goes metatextual, with a song about writing a song being entered for a songwriting contest. Mae Muller’s cheeky diss track is stuffed with personality and acid wit, proving that the country’s decision to take Eurovision seriously in 2022 wasn’t a one-off.