分类： entertainment

BARCELONA, Spain — From their glossy eye-catching covers to depictions of impossibly muscular heroes clad in skintight costumes, American superhero comics draw readers in instantly with the promise of high-stakes battles, triumph over villains and thrilling adventure. For decades, these slim, serialized publications have carved out a one-of-a-kind space in global pop culture, often contrasted sharply with other regional sequential art forms.

Against Europe’s more literary, substantive graphic novels, traditional American superhero comics are often dismissed as flimsy, juvenile entertainment. When stacked against Japanese manga’s sprawling, genre-spanning narratives with complex thematic layers, American superhero stories read as earnest and uncomplicated, rooted in a bygone era of American cultural identity. Once sold for mere nickels and dimes before climbing to quarter price points, today single issues typically cost as much as a coffee shop latte — a clear marker of their place as a product of American consumer capitalism, widely labeled as junk-food literature: eye candy for casual readers, light entertainment that requires little deep engagement. But this surface reading overlooks the deeply American identity that has been baked into these 32-page monthly stories for generations.

The turning point for modern American superhero comics came in 1961, when Stan Lee and Jack Kirby launched the Fantastic Four. In the team’s origin story, a fateful unplanned space journey exposes four explorers to cosmic radiation, leaving them with extraordinary abilities they never asked for. This origin rewrote the rules of superhero storytelling: for the first time, all-powerful heroes were also reluctant, relatable figures, shaped by the unintended consequences of scientific progress and random chance — flawed, modern people first, heroes second.

This blueprint shaped countless iconic characters that followed. Spider-Man, the Hulk, Wolverine, and dozens more were marked by their otherness: their incredible powers turned them into outcasts, casting them as imperfect, burdened messiahs rather than perfect, unflappable paragons. Tied to a core thread of the American cultural psyche, nearly all of these characters abide by Peter Parker’s iconic moral mandate: “With great power comes great responsibility.” Like a distinctly American reimagining of the Greek myth of Sisyphus, they are bound to an endless cycle of sacrifice, repeatedly stepping forward to save the world even when victory offers them no personal reward.

What could be more fundamentally American than this core belief: that when raw power is anchored to a commitment to justice, it will ultimately prevail? It is a worldview that is simultaneously deeply honorable and unapologetically naïve, a reflection of the national identity that has shaped the country for centuries.

Today, even as storytelling has grown grittier and more complex, the two giants of the American comic industry — Marvel and DC — continue to reimagine what American character looks like for new eras. Long sidelined as supporting players to white male lead characters, female fan-favorites including Gwen Stacy, Jean Grey, and Susan Storm have emerged as central leaders in recent years, breathing new life into iconic sagas for Spider-Man, the X-Men, and the Fantastic Four. DC’s *Absolute Wonder Woman* has pushed creative boundaries with groundbreaking, cinematic artwork, while half-Latino, half-Black Miles Morales has become the Spider-Man for a new, more diverse generation of readers.

Even with these evolutions, the core tensions that have long defined American superhero stories remain unchanged. Bruce Wayne, the Batman, is unable to form deep meaningful connections with anyone beyond his longtime butler Alfred — a perfect portrait of the isolated individual in modern, atomized American society. Steve Rogers, Captain America, carries the weight of representing the World War II “Greatest Generation,” forever an outsider out of time even in his own country. And Lex Luthor, Superman’s villainous megalomaniacal nemesis, stands as one of the most iconic depictions of a power-hungry tech tycoon meddling with humanity’s future for his own gain — a trope that feels just as relevant today as it was decades ago, leaving readers to joke that the modern world could use a mild-mannered Clark Kent keeping watch on powerful elites, just in case.

This feature is part of the recurring series “American Objects,” created to celebrate the 250th anniversary of the United States, exploring the everyday and cultural items that have shaped the nation’s identity over its history.

As the highly anticipated Eurovision Song Contest grand final rapidly approaches, fans across the globe are gearing up for one of the biggest cultural events in the international entertainment calendar. For those looking to get into the competitive spirit before the live show kicks off, a fun new challenge has emerged: put your Eurovision expertise to the test, and aim to walk away with a strong score – rather than the competition’s most infamous blank result, nul points.

For more than six decades, the Eurovision Song Contest has brought together musical acts from across Europe and beyond, captivating millions of viewers with its unique blend of catchy pop music, over-the-top stage productions, and cross-cultural celebration. Each year, the event builds for weeks of semi-finals before culminating in the iconic grand final, where 26 finalists compete for the coveted winner’s trophy, with viewers and professional juries from each participating country casting their votes to crown a champion.

Among the most recognizable phrases to come out of the contest is “nul points”, the French term for “zero points” that was historically announced when a country failed to earn any votes from other participants. Finishing with nul points is seen as the ultimate disappointment for competing acts, and has become a beloved part of Eurovision folklore among fans.

Now, ahead of this year’s final, the challenge invites fans to test their own knowledge of Eurovision history, iconic entries, past winners, and quirky contest facts to see if they can score high and avoid the humiliation of a nul points result on their own quiz. Whether you are a long-time superfan who has watched every contest for decades, or a first-time viewer tuning in for this year’s show, the quiz offers a lighthearted way to build excitement in the final hours before the grand final gets underway.

Claudine Longet, the Paris-born singer and actor whose life and career became intertwined with one of the most sensational public trials of the 20th century, has passed away at the age of 84. Her death was first announced Thursday in a heartfelt social media tribute from her nephew, Bryan Longet, who remembered her as a lasting personal inspiration, calling her “another star in the sky” when sharing the news. When contacted by The Associated Press via phone, Bryan Longet confirmed the death but declined to share any details about the cause of her passing.

Longet began her performance career as a child performer in her native France before building a public profile in Hollywood and the American entertainment industry. Over the course of her career, she guest-starred on dozens of popular television series, released multiple studio albums including the charted hit LP *Claudine*, and earned widespread recognition for her bossa nova ballad “Nothing to Lose”—a standout track from the 1968 comedy film *The Party*, where she starred opposite legendary actor Peter Sellers.

In the early 1960s, Longet met iconic American singer Andy Williams while performing as a dancer in a Las Vegas stage revue. The pair married and raised three children together before divorcing in the mid-1970s. Following her split from Williams, Longet relocated to a community near Aspen, Colorado, where she began a relationship with Vladimir “Spider” Sabich, a celebrated American alpine skier who had competed for the United States at the 1968 Winter Olympic Games.

It was in that Aspen home that the event that would define Longet’s public legacy unfolded on March 21, 1976. Longet fatally shot Sabich, 31, in the abdomen with a vintage Luger pistol; she maintained from the beginning that Sabich had been showing her the weapon when the shot fired accidentally, and she accompanied Sabich in the ambulance to the local hospital as he received emergency care.

The subsequent trial held in Aspen drew intense global media attention, turning a local criminal case into a worldwide tabloid sensation. Notably, Longet’s ex-husband Andy Williams stood by her throughout the proceedings: he escorted her to and from the courthouse every day, covered all her legal expenses, and publicly maintained his belief that the case against her was unjust and the shooting was an accidental tragedy, a position he reaffirmed in a 2009 interview with *CBS This Morning*.

Longet was originally charged with reckless manslaughter, but a major procedural error by law enforcement—collecting a blood sample from Longet without a required search warrant—weakened the prosecution’s case. After four days of deliberation in January 1977, the jury found Longet guilty on the lesser charge of negligent homicide. Her sentence included two years of probation, a $250 fine, and a 30-day jail term that she was allowed to serve on a flexible schedule of her choosing.

Despite the relatively lenient sentence, the trial and its surrounding media frenzy effectively ended Longet’s entertainment career. For years after the verdict, she became a target of public mockery in mainstream American pop culture: she was parodied in a sketch on *Saturday Night Live*, and the Rolling Stones even recorded an unreleased taunting track titled *Claudine* with the refrain “Claudine’s back in jail again.”

After the trial, Longet married her lead defense attorney Ron Austin and remained a private resident of Aspen for the rest of her life. In 1977, Sabich’s family filed a $1.3 million wrongful death civil suit against Longet; the two parties reached an out-of-court settlement that included a permanent gag order, barring Longet from ever publicly discussing the 1976 shooting or the subsequent trial.

As millions of music fans across the globe make their final preparations for the 2026 iteration of the Eurovision Song Contest, a brand new exhibition in the United Kingdom is pulling back the curtain on the seven-decade history of technical breakthroughs that transformed this iconic singing competition from a risky broadcast experiment into one of the world’s most watched live annual events.

The very first Eurovision, held back in 1956 at Switzerland’s Teatro Kursaal in Lugano, was far from a simple production. In an era long before high-speed digital communications, engineers faced the unprecedented challenge of transmitting live video footage across Western Europe, navigating rugged mountain terrain, crossing multiple national borders, and working around incompatible domestic broadcasting systems using nothing more than microwave relay towers and early terrestrial transmission links.

“It really was groundbreaking, because it was a really early example of a live simultaneous broadcast across Europe,” explained Sarah Rawlins, public programme developer at Bradford’s National Science and Media Museum and curator of the new exhibition. “Everyone in France and West Germany, Italy, they were all watching the same thing at the same time. When you think that was happening in 1956, that is actually remarkable that they had the technology to pull that off.”

The foundational work for this cross-continental broadcast had already been laid years earlier, when the 1953 coronation of Queen Elizabeth II was transmitted across multiple European countries, Rawlins noted. That successful large-scale experiment proved both that there was widespread public appetite for shared pan-European television content and that transnational live broadcasting was technically achievable, clearing the way for the launch of Eurovision.

Over the 70 years since that first contest, Eurovision has expanded dramatically from its original lineup of just 7 competing nations to the 35 countries that take part today. Alongside this growth, broadcast technology for the event has evolved continuously, adapting to rising global audience demand through shifts from early microwave transmission to satellite broadcasting, and more recently to high-speed digital fibre optic connections. That evolution has cemented Eurovision’s status as one of the world’s largest live broadcast events, with the 2025 contest drawing a global audience of more than 166 million viewers.

The exhibition, titled *Setting the Stage: 70 Years of the Eurovision Song Contest*, traces this steady technological evolution step by step. Visitors can explore everything from the first satellite-broadcast contest in 1969 to behind-the-scenes time-lapse footage showing the rapid construction of the 2021 contest stage at Rotterdam Ahoy Arena in the Netherlands. The display also highlights Eurovision’s long history of driving industry-wide broadcast innovation: the contest hosted the first widespread color television broadcasts for a pan-European audience, launched the global career of iconic pop group ABBA with its 1974 competition, and pioneered the large-scale public televoting systems that remain a core part of the event today. That 1997 televoting trial also cemented one of Eurovision’s most iconic cultural phrases: “nul points.”

While the exhibition’s central focus is the engineering and technology behind Eurovision’s global broadcast, it also dedicates space to the passionate global fan community that has sustained the competition for seven decades. “When you are talking about why it has been going for 70 years, a lot of it is down to the fans,” Rawlins said. “A lot of the time when we speak to fans, they talk a lot about their love of the competition, but also how it brings them together. I have spoken to a lot of people who have essentially made friends for life, and the community around Eurovision is a really big part of what they enjoy.”

*Setting the Stage: 70 Years of the Eurovision Song Contest* will run at the National Science and Media Museum in Bradford until February 2027. Visitors can access additional related content on BBC Sounds and the BBC’s Look North regional news programme.

VIENNA — For every act competing at the Eurovision Song Contest, only 180 seconds stand between a relative unknown and global stardom. When 25 acts take the grand final stage in rapid succession on Saturday night, competitors need to pull out every creative trick — both musically and visually — to etch their performance into the memory of millions of watching viewers. This year, one of the clearest pre-contest favorites embodies this high-stakes approach: Finnish duo Pete Parkkonen, a chart-topping pop vocalist, and Linda Lampenius, a world-renowned classical violinist, have built a buzzy, ambitious entry that pairs genre-bending music with pyrotechnics, a priceless 18th-century instrument, and a secret team of backstage “ninjas” tasked with preventing disaster.

The pair’s competing entry, *Liekinheitin* (translated as “Flamethrower”), has climbed to the top of fan polls and betting odds alike, winning over audiences with its seamless blend of catchy pop structure and virtuosic classical performance, paired with one of the most elaborate staging concepts of this year’s contest. To pull off the vision they set out to create, however, the duo had to overcome a major hurdle set by Eurovision’s official rules.

Parkkonen and Lampenius describe their unique sound as “new pop with a classical touch.” Centered on a theme of all-consuming burning love, the track is a nonstop burst of energy: Parkkonen’s gritty, passionate vocals weave around Lampenius’ fast-paced, fiery violin playing, with each instrument acting as an equal narrative counterpoint to the other. To achieve that dynamic, the pair insisted that Lampenius play her violin live during the performance — a request that required special exception from Eurovision organizers.

Eurovision’s standard rules mandate that all lead vocals must be performed live, but all instrumental tracks are pre-recorded to streamline quick changeovers between the 25 competing acts. Lampenius argued that the track was written as a true vocal-instrumental duet, where both performers carry equal narrative weight. “It’s a woman and a man, it’s a female voice and a male voice. So I do all my lyrics through my violin, by playing, and you [Parkkonen] are singing it with words. But we are talking. We are equally as important, both of us,” she explained.

The Finnish delegation entered the contest in Vienna with no guarantee that organizers would approve their exception request. It was only after a successful live public rehearsal that the European Broadcasting Union (EBU), the governing body that oversees Eurovision, granted final approval. The EBU noted that contest rules explicitly allow for “live audio capture of instruments may exceptionally be permitted where artistically justified,” a provision that cleared the way for the duo’s vision.

To prepare for all possible outcomes, Lampenius brought two violins to Vienna. The first is a coveted 1781 Gagliano violin, a rare, valuable antique that delivers the warm, rich tone needed for a perfect live performance. The second is an affordable, expendable backup instrument that would be used if the request was denied, eliminating any risk of damaging the priceless Gagliano during the performance’s pyrotechnic stunts.

Months of rigorous rehearsal have prepared the duo for the grand final spotlight. They began preparing the act immediately after winning Finland’s national Eurovision selection contest in February, and have now run through the full performance hundreds of times, working out every detail of the high-risk choreography and staging.

The performance builds to a dramatic climax: jets of flame burst from the central stage, where Lampenius stands in a flowing, billowing dress, the fabric fanned by a hidden leaf blower for extra visual drama as she plays her antique violin. Lampenius admits that the setup carries a small element of risk: “It’s a bit scary when you think of it,” she says. But what home viewers never see is the team of black-clad backstage stagehands the duo calls their “ninjas,” who are positioned offstage to keep Lampenius’ flowing dress clear of the open flames and guide her through the dynamic choreography.

“They’re running with me — first one guy carrying my dress when I’m running, then the other one catching me during my run,” Lampenius explained. “And he helps me also when I jump up on the stage and do the pirouette.” Even Parkkonen takes on a hidden safety role: during the dramatic final pose, where Lampenius perches on stacked chairs in high heels with her violin held high, the pop singer keeps a close watch ready to catch her if she loses her balance and topples. “That’s my work,” Parkkonen said.

As the 70th Eurovision Song Contest prepares to crown its 2026 winner in Vienna this Saturday, all eyes are turning to the United Kingdom’s unorthodox representative: inventor and cult musician Sam Battle, better known by his stage name Look Mum No Computer. Where many contestants enter the global competition hungry for a win, Battle brings a laid-back, devil-may-care attitude that defies the typical pressure of Eurovision’s spotlight.

With bookmakers placing Battle at 150/1 odds of taking home the trophy, the 37-year-old creative says he is fully prepared for any outcome, leaning into the adage that confidence means being comfortable with losing. “It could go well or completely wrong – I’m just here for the ride,” he says. Even in the worst-case scenario of a zero-point finish, he has already leaned into the joke, joking that he’s got a “Look mum, no points” t-shirt ready to go.

For Battle, Eurovision is far from a make-or-break career milestone. Long before he was tapped to represent the UK, he had built a thriving, eccentric creative career centered on his passion for repurposed audio technology. A cult favorite in experimental electro-pop circles, he is known for building functional synthesisers out of unexpected objects ranging from old bicycles to retro Speak-and-Spell machines. His YouTube channel boasts 700,000 loyal subscribers who tune in to watch his madcap projects: everything from modifying vintage cars to restoring decaying 19th-century church organs, all delivered with the manic, infectious energy that has drawn comparisons to Back to the Future’s eccentric inventor Doc Brown. Off-camera, Battle runs a unique museum in Ramsgate, Kent, dedicated to restoring and exhibiting forgotten vintage audio gear. Just four weeks before the Eurovision grand final, he added a new role to his packed resume: first-time dad to a baby boy named Max.

What many fans don’t know is that Battle’s Eurovision journey started as a random pub joke with a friend. “We were sitting in a pub saying, wouldn’t it be hilarious if we tried to get into Eurovision?” he recalls. The throwaway joke quickly snowballed: his manager emailed the BBC to ask about the application process, and producers, intrigued by Battle’s one-of-a-kind persona, asked him to submit an original track.

Battle agreed to join a songwriting writing camp on one non-negotiable condition: he had to be allowed to bring Kosmo, his custom-built synthesiser and drum machine that requires six separate flight cases to transport. It was a casual moment while moving furniture that ultimately gave birth to his entry: a cheeky, 1980s-inspired pop anthem titled *Eins, Zwei, Drei*. As he shifted a sofa to make space for Kosmo, he counted out “Eins, Zwei, Drei” to coordinate the lift – and the team immediately knew they had their song title. Twelve hours later, the track was finished: a playful, high-energy number about quitting a boring office job to take a spontaneous mini-break in Germany. “We all thought it would never get picked,” Battle says. The very next morning, the BBC called to say they loved the track’s zany, unapologetic charm, and after a final audition to confirm he could perform live, Battle was officially named the UK’s 2026 representative.

During rehearsals in Vienna, Battle’s boundless curiosity for all things mechanical was on full display during a visit to the city’s Museum of Science and Technology, where he wandered through an exhibition of early synthesisers and mechanical instruments like a kid let loose in a candy factory. He impressed museum staff with his deep, encyclopedic knowledge of the obscure gear, pointing out the Mellotron organ that created the iconic texture on The Beatles’ *Strawberry Fields Forever*, and demonstrating the Roland CR-78 drum machine that kicks off Blondie’s *Heart of Glass*. “He’d be a fantastic tour guide – he knows more about these machines than we do,” the museum’s curator said. It took a spontaneous detour to a Eurovision karaoke booth, where Battle ripped through a falsetto version of ABBA’s *Waterloo* and did the full choreography for 2025’s viral hit *Espresso Macchiato*, before the pair could sit down to discuss his upcoming performance.

Battle is the first to admit he’s no polished Eurovision performer: “I’m literally not a dancer. I’ve got two left feet,” he laughs, but says he’s fully embracing the challenge. His performance, choreographed by Fredrik “Benke” Rydman – the creative mind behind 2024 winner Nemo’s winning staging – leans into Battle’s hyperactive, chaotic energy. The set opens with Battle trapped in the monotony of a soul-crushing office job, before he breaks free and transforms the drab set into a flashing, buzzing electronic carnival, with dancers wearing fur-lined television sets as headgear. Battle built most of the stage props himself, including oversized custom synth panels, drilling hundreds of holes in the process. He had to scrap one idea – adding a real car to the set – when he learned the stage’s glass LED floor had a strict 500kg weight limit for all props.

Battle is well aware of the UK’s poor recent track record at Eurovision: outside of Sam Ryder’s surprise second-place finish in 2022, the UK has not placed in the top 10 for more than 15 years, and earned exactly zero points in both 2024 and 2025. The BBC, he says, prepared him for the potential public scrutiny that comes with the role, even putting him through a stress test to make sure he could handle the pressure.

Right now, the only thing keeping him up at night is the fear he’ll trip on stage and embarrass himself. Still, when pressed, he admits there’s a small part of him hoping the audience connects with his unconventional act. “What we’re doing is Marmite – you either love it or hate it – but I think there’s a slot open for our sort of thing,” he says.

But even if the contest doesn’t go his way, Battle has already lined up his next priority: immediately after the grand final wraps up Saturday night, he’s flying straight home to resume his new favorite job: changing nappies for his newborn son Max. For Sam Battle, no matter what the scoreboard says, Eurovision is already a win.

The 2026 Eurovision Song Contest’s second semi-final wrapped up in Vienna Thursday night, with Australian pop superstar Delta Goodrem delivering a show-stopping performance that secured her spot in the grand final and catapulted her to the top of the competition’s odds rankings. Now the second most likely contender to take home the Eurovision trophy, Goodrem is quickly closing the gap on long-standing favorite Finland, raising the prospect of a historic first win for the non-European nation that has become a beloved staple of the annual contest.

Australia first joined Eurovision in 2015 as a one-off wildcard invite, but the contest’s massive popularity Down Under—where more than one million viewers tune in annually—turned the guest appearance into a permanent spot. A win on Saturday would mark an unprecedented milestone for the country. Goodrem, one of Australia’s best-selling female artists who earned early fame for her role on the long-running soap opera *Neighbours* familiar to UK audiences, signed her first recording contract at 15 and has already notched four number-one studio albums. Reflecting on her Eurovision journey after the semi-final, she told the BBC, “This experience has been surprisingly beautiful. To see people flying flags for music and standing with us has been an absolutely awesome thing to witness.”

Goodrem’s semi-final staging leaned into understated sophistication rather than the over-the-top gimmicks many Eurovision acts embrace: she performed her power ballad *Eclipse* against a minimalist backdrop centered on a glowing crescent moon, saved only one subtle surprise for the performance’s closing moment. The show-stopping turn has already shifted contest dynamics, with bookmakers now ranking her just behind Finland in win odds.

Goodrem was one of 10 acts to advance from the second semi-final to the 25-act grand final, which will air live Saturday night. The full list of second semi-final qualifiers joining her are Albania’s Alis with *Nân*, Bulgaria’s Dara with *Bangaranga*, Cyprus’s Antigoni with *Jalla*, Czechia’s Daniel Zizka with *Crossroads*, Denmark’s Søren Torpegaard Lund with *Før Vi Går Hjem*, Malta’s Aidan with *Bella*, Romania’s Alexandra Căpitănescu with *Choke Me*, Ukraine’s Leléka with *Ridnym*, and Norway’s Jonas Lovv with *Ya Ya Ya*. Five nations—Azerbaijan, Luxembourg, Armenia, Switzerland, and Latvia—were eliminated from contention in the 2026 contest, and will return to compete in 2027.

The semi-final was packed with memorable, and in some cases controversial, performances from across the continent. Opening the night, Bulgarian singer Dara delivered a high-energy set brimming with dynamic chair choreography and fierce performance energy for her track *Bangaranga*. Though the title may read like playful nonsensical Eurovision fare, the 27-year-old artist explained the song explores “being bold” and opening up about her personal battle with anxiety. Her energetic staging has already positioned her as a potential top 10 contender for the grand final.

Romania’s Căpitănescu entered the semi-final already facing controversy over her brooding rock track *Choke Me*. Campaigners had previously criticized the song for allegedly glorifying sexual violence, but Căpitănescu clarified the lyrics actually address the feeling of suffocating under unforgiving societal expectations. She visualized this struggle in her staging, straining against two oversized neon ropes tied to her bodice. In an unexpected coincidence, rope became a recurring theme of the night: Azerbaijan’s Jiva portrayed escaping a toxic relationship by fighting against physical restraints during her performance, while Switzerland’s Veronica Fusaro was entangled in a web of blood-red rope for *Alice*, her track confronting the trauma of stalking and abuse. Despite strong critical reception for both sets, neither accumulated enough votes to advance to the final. Fusaro did earn widespread praise for a blistering guitar solo that capped off her performance.

The UK’s 2026 entry, Look Mum No Computer, automatically qualified for the grand final as part of the “Big Five” — the UK, France, Germany, and Italy (the Big Four) plus host nation Austria, all of whom receive automatic final spots due to their largest financial contributions to the European Broadcasting Union, which organizes Eurovision. The UK act delivered a dynamic, high-concept set, opening at an office desk before moving into a surreal, colorful landscape of exposed circuit boards and robotic dancers. The performance split opinion on social media: “UK might actually get some points this year,” Threads user Dan wrote, with commentator Karen Robinson agreeing, “He brought so much energy and real personality to the stage.” But other critics were less impressed, with a Reddit user deriding the staging as a man “huffing and puffing around an exam hall,” and Bluesky user C Grinbergs lamenting, “I don’t think it’s our year.”

More upbeat, lighter moments came from other contestants: Antigoni, a London-based artist representing Cyprus, brought a danceable party anthem *Jalla* (translated “And More”) that blended belly dancing choreography with traditional Cypriot instrumentation, drawing obvious comparisons to global pop star Shakira. Malta’s Aidan brought warm Mediterranean energy to his tender love ballad *Bella*, while France’s Monroe offered a reflective operatic chanson *Regarde!* that encouraged audiences to pause and appreciate the beauty of the world around them. Closing out the semi-final was Norway’s Lovv with *Ya Ya Ya*, a raucous, foot-stomping rock track that echoes the sound of 2021 Eurovision champions Måneskin. The track has already become a streaming hit, racking up more than four million plays across YouTube and Spotify. Lovv made headlines earlier in the week after contest organizers asked him to tone down what they described as overly sexualized choreography during rehearsals. Laughing off the criticism, he said, “I don’t know what they are talking about! I’m the least sexual person in the whole delegation.” For the semi-final, he compromised by swapping his original hip thrust choreography for a playful cheeky wiggle, much to the audience’s amusement.

The 10 second semi-final qualifiers will join 10 acts that advanced from the first semi-final earlier this week—Belgium, Croatia, Finland, Greece, Lithuania, Moldova, Poland, Serbia, and Sweden—in the grand final. They will be joined by automatic qualifiers the UK, Italy, Germany, France, and host nation Austria, for a total of 25 competing acts. UK audiences can tune into the grand final live starting at 8pm BST on Saturday via BBC One, BBC iPlayer, Radio 2, and BBC Sounds, with full live coverage and analysis available on the BBC News website. Fans can also download a printable Eurovision score card from the website to track their own rankings of the finalists ahead of the winner announcement.