The epitome of local talent. Sure!

Another year, another Sunday. The Sunday on which one discusses and, with the wisdom of hindsight, praises or - more often than not - lambasts the whole thing.


Many say they don't watch it; that it's a waste of time. Yet, for some strange reason, on The Night they get ill and don't go out. But hey, they watch a DVD, not the show. This category is also referred to as 'the lame ones'.


Many others, after cramming our Facebook walls with comments, completely engulfed by the hype surrounding the show, claim that Malta should stop taking part in it. This category is called 'the hypocrites'. First they indulge in it, then they try to act all cool.


We aren't the biggest fans, true, but we watch it. We have a whale of a time commenting and seeing what they'll come up with. It's arguably better than carnival, really.


It's funny, watching it you get the feeling that many of them are at a loss when it comes to answering "what to wear?". Horrible and inadequate colours, redundant and ugly jewellery to complement (read: ruin) the outfit, overly stretched dresses and disastrous hairdos always manage to elbow their way through, not to mention the caked-up faces. Yes, it's the most kitsch night of the year.


On a positive note, however, this year's show had less faux pas than usual. Yes, guys, we know we were there commenting and lambasting with you on social networks. Granted. All the same, while we usually have all the rainbow colours scratching each other on the same dress and much, much more, this year we had far less to trash when compared to previous years.


A miracle to be attributed to stylist Carina Camilleri? Well... she must have had a tough time censoring people like JAnvil and The Air Hostess. Contrary to what many are erroneously insinuating, she didn't pick a dress and force people to wear it. They weren't (at least not all) designer pieces - Kaya herself said that she had Doris make hers. And despite the strenuous research, we didn't succeed in finding her collections thus far. In fact, at this point we think Carina's own words are to listen to:

“I would not choose to wear most of the outfits but one must realise that styling(and that is what I do, not design) with the limited resources, budgets, timing, body shapes plus keeping to the person's personality is a challenging task. It really is much easier to sit on a sofa and slag everyone. I know, and it is also a lot of fun.”

What perhaps was the biggest disaster in this edition was the choice of presenters. Appalling won't even start to describe it. We probably have never had such a flop on that stage. Not even Montesin and her big mouth, as insanely irritating as she is. We missed Valerie's eloquence. We were supposed to have two people at it. And we did. We had a girl who pronounces a name one way one minute and something totally different the next. Then we had Ron, whose presence up there was more fit for a butler - if you want a lame clown for a butler, that is. When will they learn?

Then we had the songs. If it's very good quality you're after, then this show is not really what you should be watching - for crappy and cheesy songs predominate! OK, there are a couple of decent ones, but on the whole, the lyrics are... well, they're not there. The music is generally an ugly ripoff. You kow, you hear a song and it immediately remind you of another. And why, really, why do they pick famous songs to 'emulate'?


It's really infuriating, inasmuch as those penning these songs really think the people are uncultured and gullible enough to believe it's something original. (Is that, perhaps, the reason why the Maltese composers so adamantly opposed the idea of having their foreign counterparts in the equation too?) Gone are the days when the Maltese merely listened to Freddie Portelli and Bennie u Tonia. If Maltese singers ever want to make it overseas and perhaps claim the coveted top spot (block voting aside), they should really get rid of the crappy songwriters who have been spamming these contests year after year. They're rubbish, get it?


And then, after you listen to all of the 24 songs on one night and a second time to the final 16, there comes the time for the results. Oh yeah, the results. You don't get them before some torturous entertainment. The hosts, one on one side and the other on another, ask some moronic questions to the singers. Is that their perception of 'entertainment'? Those commenting didn't seem to enjoy it much. OK, asking questions is always part of it. BUT... Ah, there's a big 'but' to it. The questions must be challenging ones and not, for example: what's hidden under Kaya's shirt. THAT is something we DON'T want to know, dear Ron and Elaine. 

And we weren't the only ones realising that. Along came gorgeous and brilliant Anggun and she promptly noticed that all the attempts made by the incredibly talented presenters were falling through. In fact, she tried to inject some humour to save the night... and for some minutes there it all seemed like a decent night.


Then, after some miserable pieces from last year's Eurovision winners, our winner was announced.


And boom. You say to yourself: "Why the heck did I waste so much watching this?" or "Are the Maltese for real? Why are they doing this, again?"


Kurt Calleja won. He did best with the Maltese public. The song is, how should we put this... probably 'crap' will do! Nothing makes sense in that song. Nothing. The lyrics are practically non-existent and it bores you. It seems like the Maltese have now decided to go with what is easy, light and somewhat catchy. And let's face it, a couple of "this is the night" make up more than half that song!


Keith St. John, from Un Peu de Musique aptly put it when he said:

 “this is also reflecting in "popular" music. (...)rather listen to LMFAO (lyrics consisting of wiggle wiggle wiggle i work out) than an artist who makes sense in his lyrics and is delivering a message or a thought.”

Then, on that very Sunday, you tune in on TVM... you see Hadd Ghalik, a Maltese Sunday show, where Kurt usually showcases his talent, and you see the audience there. And you say to yourself: "Course he wins, course he wins!"


P.S. You also say to yourself: "thank God trash Deborah C didn't win". Uh Oh!