Somewhere in a television studio in Nicosia, at the back end of 2018, arose a shadowy figure who fired up the projector, showed the composers of various songs last year’s entry and said “that – again” in Greek.
They went away and that is, essentially, what they have come up with. There is nothing wrong in that, either. Tamata’s song is Fuego-lite but it’s also, annoyingly, the kind of thing that you are used to hearing in Ayia Napa or Lemesos or by turning on MADTV in your hotel complex.
It’s a local sound, and we are all clamouring for local flavour in this contest, but the fans know it’s been done before and better and heavier.
The hook gets in your head – the sign of a good song, and you know you’re going to remember it the Sunday after the contest through a Metaxa haze, after you wonder, again, why Europe aren’t sending their journalists to sunny Cyprus for two weeks in 2020.
That’ll be because it’s just a touch too weak and tired to win.
Phil’s score. 7 points.
