In Karija’s performance, the background singers sounded louder than the soloist himself. The same was done with Mountain Jumper’s previous albums, writes entertainment journalist Mikael Matilla.
As expected, Karija made it to the semi-finals of the Eurovision Song Contest last night.
The whole hall of Liverpool was shouting cha cha cha. Slogans of “Good Finland” rang out. Europe was thrown into disarray.
I read in the morning papers that now even the traditionally overconfident Swedes are shaking their heads. It’s a bit like during the deciders in a batting competition.
So it will be the last five-point final ever.
At the same time, I couldn’t help but think of Matty Nykaa.
Well. When Makikotka recorded such classics as Night of Surprises, Only a Mountain Man Could Know It or in more recent years the Marquis de Sade, the songs’ essential hooks and melodies were saved with abundant backing vocals. Was. The Olympic champion’s own understanding of the tone of the song was very particular.
The same procedure was followed in the case of Karija.
When the song’s exhilarating, high-spirited climax came, the broadcast heard more of a background choir from behind than Karija Pohonen. The strong front line thinned as the soloists buried themselves beneath the choir.
Reason: Same as Nykäne. The situation had to be rectified somehow, because our Jere is a bit of a weak singer.
Already last year, I was ashamed of the out-of-this-world rant from The Rasmus’ Lauri Ylönen. How could a man in his forties with such perfect abs and who has been singing in a rock band since he was in elementary school have such a weak ability to absorb oxygen?
It’s true that the Carriage doesn’t have to manage as wide gaps as its predecessor. At the same time, it stinks that there is a Finnish guy who again sings poorly on the boards.
On the other hand, it fits into the Finnish unifying culture that Karija brought back. The men here have always preferred tech-savvy alternative male caregivers.
Sure, Europe can love a savage green man.
And it’s great when a bunch of guys from Vantaa have put together the continent’s most memorable song this spring, created a completely unique brand and handled all the PR work perfectly.
Without any formal training in the field. Pass the Swedish, perfect and professional (and therefore joyless, soulless) pop machine.
The Dalit has already won in these sea routes.
But while Eurovision is – or at least it still pretends to be with its own rules – a singing contest. At least to the extent that the background of live performances is allowed to come from tapes, but when it comes to singing, the playing is raw. It has to be born in a moment.
That’s why, of course, extremely hungry and genuinely professional judges evaluate shows with different criteria. Rather than probability, the show’s execution matters, as does the track itself: it has 50 percent power over the final result.
And here is the weakness of Karija’s first workshop production in Vantaa. A more professional singer will take care of the vocals.
Although, to be honest, there were other weak vocal performances in the semi-finals. Norway’s Alessandra Mele’s Viking antics were quite the boom, Croatia’s doomsday tractor had a bit of trouble starting, and even the ever-gorgeous Lorraine’s chorus turned out to be quite the hoot.
Yet, the energy of Cha Cha Cha’s chorus comes precisely from its colorful vocal effects. Some people like, uh, Kanye West in his better days.
When he was taken away, some of the magic of the song was also lost.
Of course, this also explains a lot about changes in music technology and how our ears are used to influenced singing. Even Matti Nyksen’s songs would be vastly improved with modern technology.
However, Eurovision’s strict line separates who is really the best as a song interpreter. Jere Pöyhönen’s thin, slightly breathless performance isn’t enough for him.
Till now, the pride of our country was hanging on two sleeves. With the semi-final, it turned out that it was actually the delicate line of autotune that was holding it in the air.