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The 70th iteration of the Eurovision Song Contest is set to open its doors in Vienna this Sunday, kicking off with the iconic turquoise carpet parade that will bring together competitors from 35 participating nations. What should be a joyous celebration of cross-cultural music and unity, however, has been overshadowed by a bitter, years-long controversy over Israel’s inclusion in the competition, driven by ongoing fallout from the 2023 Gaza conflict.

As delegations assemble in the Austrian capital, five longstanding Eurovision participants will be notably absent: Iceland, Ireland, the Netherlands, Slovenia, and Spain have all pulled out of the 2026 contest in protest of Israel’s participation. The debate over Israel’s presence first ignited in October 2023, when the Israeli government launched a large-scale military offensive in Gaza in response to a Hamas-led attack that Israeli authorities report killed approximately 1,200 people and took 251 hostages. To date, the Hamas-run Gaza health ministry puts the Palestinian death toll from the offensive at 72,628. A ceasefire has been in place since October 2025, but the political rift over Israel’s Eurovision participation has not healed.

Controversy has dogged Israel’s participation in the two most recent editions of the contest, held in Malmö 2024 and Basel 2025. During that time, mass anti-Israel protests filled host city streets, and Israeli contestants were assigned armed security detail for their protection. In 2025, Israeli entrant Yuval Raphael — a survivor of the October 7 attacks — told the BBC she had practiced performing through boos during rehearsals. Two stage invaders interrupted her performance during the grand final, and tensions boiled over after Raphael’s song unexpectedly placed first in the public vote, ultimately landing her second place overall after lower jury scores. Multiple countries alleged that the public vote was skewed by an unprecedented intervention from Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s government, which repeatedly urged its social media followers to vote for Raphael’s entry.

Last November, a coalition of countries pushed for a formal vote to exclude Israel from the 2026 contest. When the motion failed, the boycotts began, including the withdrawal of Ireland — a seven-time Eurovision winner — and Spain, one of the competition’s largest financial backers.

For Eurovision, a cultural event uniquely dependent on its passionate global fan community, the boycott and ongoing controversy have left audiences deeply divided. Unlike most major entertainment events, Eurovision integrates independent fan media directly into official proceedings, granting fan websites and blogs equal access to press centres, press conferences, and behind-the-scenes content alongside legacy outlets like the BBC and The New York Times. Fan creators publish year-round content, from pre-selection show analysis to rehearsal leaks, voting predictions, and staging breakdowns, cementing their central role in the event’s ecosystem.

“The fan base is very important for the commercial dimension of Eurovision,” explained Dean Vuletic, historian and author of *Postwar Europe and the Eurovision Song Contest*. “When it comes to merchandising, when it comes to ticket sales, the fans are really the ones fuelling this Eurovision industry. They’re the ones you can count on to attend the contest, even when it becomes mired in political controversy.”

In response to the 2026 boycott, a number of prominent fan platforms have suspended all coverage of this year’s contest. “The Eurovision we once knew, that shaped this community and inspired us to create this channel, just isn’t the one we fell in love with all those years ago,” wrote the team behind cross-continental fan page Eurovision Hub. Ireland’s Eirevision podcast echoed that sentiment: “A contest founded on unity, peace, and connection has never felt more divided. We no longer recognise the Eurovision Song Contest we grew up with.”

Other conflicted fans have sought a middle ground. Welsh Eurovision fan Philip Dore published a widely shared reflective piece on fan site ESC Insight addressing the split, titled “So, what do Eurovision fans do now?” Dore noted that for many, Eurovision is far more than a one-night song competition: the event has longstanding deep ties to LGBTQ+ liberation and community, and is a key space of belonging for neurodiverse fans. He outlined a range of options for divided fans, from full personal boycott to a “halfway” approach that involves following pre-contest build-up but stepping back once events kick off in Vienna.

“This isn’t an easy situation for anyone,” Dore wrote. “Many people in the community are feeling a mix of sadness, anger, and loss, and I have no intention of adding judgment to anyone.”

Despite the deep rift, many of the traditional signs of Eurovision excitement remain visible across social media, where fans continue to share photos, memes, and interviews ahead of the contest. All tickets for nine total events in Vienna sold out in record time, with every grand final seat claimed in just 14 minutes. “To see every single show sell out so quickly is a powerful reminder of what the Eurovision Song Contest represents – joy, togetherness and shared experience at a time when that feels more important than ever,” said Martin Green, the British producer overseeing the 2026 contest.

The on-the-ground mood among fans is far more nuanced, however. “It still feels exciting. It still feels like something that I couldn’t miss. And, that said, it feels different,” said Rob Lilley-Jones, host of UK-based podcast Euro Trip. “There’s still that fun element but now, and for the last few years, you are going into Eurovision week with a sense of apprehension and nervous anticipation.” Lilley-Jones called the 2024 Malmö contest, marked by heightened security and pervasive backstage tension, the worst in the event’s history.

Marcos Maximillian Tritremmel, president of Austria’s national Eurovision fan club, told Germany’s Der Spiegel that he understands the motivations for protest, but confrontations with fans have crossed a line. “But when you get yelled at on your way into a concert hall – ‘What are you doing here? Why are you supporting the genocide?’ – at that point, it stops being funny.”

Lilley-Jones says he has debated ending his podcast over the controversy, but ultimately decided that continuing to create content feels like the right choice: if the contest can still bring small moments of joy to audiences navigating a difficult global context, he argues, it is worth continuing. That approach — prioritizing dialogue over further division — has become the prevailing attitude among many fans who choose to engage with this year’s event.

Vuletic, who has studied the contest’s long history of political controversy, argues that Eurovision will weather this current rift just as it has overcome past crises. He notes that claims this is the “most political Eurovision ever” overlook decades of political unrest tied to the event. For example, the 2009 contest in Moscow was overshadowed by violent police crackdowns on a gay pride rally held to coincide with the event, and the 2012 contest hosted by authoritarian Azerbaijan faced widespread criticism over the regime’s suppression of political dissent; that year’s winner, Sweden’s Loreen, publicly highlighted human rights abuses during her visit.

“The media tends to sensationalise the current moment but we’ve always had to navigate the political context [of the contest],” Vuletic said. “And the fans have always kept coming, no matter what.”

Organizers have worked to balance competing demands ahead of the 2026 opening: host Austrian public broadcaster has confirmed it will not ban Palestinian flags from the venue or censor audience booing of the Israeli entry. That said, the boycott will have concrete impacts: broadcasters in the boycotting countries will not air any 2026 content, almost guaranteeing a drop in global viewing figures. Uncertainty also lingers over what would happen if Israeli entry Noam Bettan’s ballad *Michelle* — ranked as one of the year’s strongest competitors — takes home the win.

For Eurovision’s fans, who have already navigated years of growing tension, the 2026 contest will unfold with far more trepidation than the usual upbeat pre-event anticipation.

In the southwestern German town of Völklingen, sitting just kilometers from the French border, a one-of-a-kind artistic collaboration has kicked off against a backdrop of industrial history. Dozens of urban creatives from 17 nations have gathered at Völklingen Ironworks — a decommissioned 19th-to-20th century iron production facility preserved as one of Europe’s most extraordinary industrial heritage sites — to launch the 2026 Urban Art Biennale, an event that continues a 15-year tradition of pairing contemporary street and graffiti art with the ironworks’ sprawling, atmospheric abandoned spaces.

As a UNESCO World Heritage Site inscribed in 1994, Völklingen Hütte holds unique global significance: it is the only fully intact integrated ironworks from the 19th and 20th centuries remaining intact across Western Europe and North America. Industrial iron production halted here in 1986, and the entire site has been preserved exactly as it stood when operations shut down, with no major new constructions added after the mid-1930s. Today, the 6-hectare (nearly 15-acre) site operates as a public museum, where visitors still navigate a maze of cold furnaces, towering chimneys, and original warning signs marking hazards like crushing risks that once faced workers.

For event organizers and participating artists, the ironworks is far more than a novel exhibition space — it is the foundational origin of street and urban art itself. “This location is at the core of street art and graffiti art,” explained Ralf Beil, general director of the Völklingen Hütte museum. “It all began in industrial places like this. Artists love this place and they do works for the Völklinger Hütte, in the Völklinger Hütte, with the Völklinger Hütte.”

This year’s biennale features 50 commissioned site-specific works, each tailored to the ironworks’ unique industrial character, with a deliberate rejection of commercialized art to prioritize pure, place-driven creation. Standout works range from provocative installations to large-scale interventions that play off the site’s layers of history. France-based artist Tomas Lacque has created an installation featuring a small van, a mound of tires, children’s toys, and debris coated entirely in a layer of paint. Placed in a cavernous hall that once housed active iron furnaces, the piece evokes the imagery of fossil fuel-powered transportation frozen and covered in ash, echoing the way ancient Roman Pompeii was preserved after volcanic eruption.

Spanish artist Ampparito has intervened directly into the site’s architecture, painting the phrase “no hay nada de valor” — translated as “There is nothing of value here” — in massive white lettering across the roof of one of the ironworks’ huge industrial sheds. The work is designed to be viewed from a 148-foot (45-meter) high viewing platform, turning a structural element of the former factory into a large-scale conceptual statement.

Other contributors include Dutch artist Boris Tellegen, better known by his artistic moniker Delta, who installed a massive black-and-green wooden sculpture that anchors and illuminates one of the ironworks’ interior halls. The France-based collective Vortex-X, which specializes in upcycling salvaged industrial materials, stretched sweeping arcs of white industrial fabric across an entire hall for their work titled *Memory in transit*, creating a dynamic installation that evokes movement and the passage of time at the dormant site.

Participating artists have emphasized the unique tension and beauty of creating contemporary work in a space that retains the grit and memory of its working past. British artist Remi Rough, who contributed small, sharply clean and clinical paintings that intentionally contrast with the site’s weathered texture, noted the unexpected aesthetic appeal of the abandoned facility: “It’s so dusty and it’s so old, but it’s beautiful, you know, there’s beauty in decay. I think what I’ve done makes you kind of just perceive it in a bit of a different way.”

Danish artist Anders Reventlov echoed the respect many creators hold for the site’s working history, saying he felt humbled by the opportunity to create work in a space that was once a brutal workplace. “As somebody told me … it was hell to work here. Now it’s not hell. It’s like a nice place, people walking around, there are bees, there are beautiful flowers, but yeah, we still remember the history and that’s super important.”

Beil emphasized that the biennale’s commitment to site-specificity rules out pre-made commercial works, keeping the focus entirely on art that responds to this one-of-a-kind location. “This is an installation for the space,” he said. “This is pure art.”

The 2026 Urban Art Biennale opens to the public on Saturday and will run through November 15, welcoming visitors to explore the intersection of contemporary urban art and 20th-century industrial heritage.

The world’s most prestigious contemporary art event, the Venice Biennale, opens its 2025 edition this Saturday, marking one of the most politically charged and chaotic iterations in the exhibition’s decades-long history. What was meant to be a celebration of global artistic vision has been upended by geopolitical conflict after the awards jury stepped down en masse to protest the inclusion of Israeli and Russian national pavilions, leaving no Golden Lion awards granted by official adjudicators. Compounding the friction, large-scale public demonstrations have been staged outside the two contested pavilions, amplifying tensions that have split the global arts community.

While the jury framed its protest around its stance that only nations facing International Criminal Court investigations for alleged human rights violations should be excluded from awards consideration, the move has drawn further debate, with many critics arguing the United States should have been held to the same standard. Renowned British-Indian sculptor Anish Kapoor, one of the most high-profile voices in the protest, summed up the widespread frustration driving the unrest: “We are pushing back against the politics of hate and war that have plagued our world for far too long.”

In a sudden shift to an open, audience-driven selection process, visitors will now step into the jury’s role, casting votes for two top honors: best national pavilion from the 100 participating countries, and best participant in the Biennale’s central curated exhibition, titled *In Minor Keys*. Modeled after the fan-voted Eurovision Song Contest, the results will remain under wraps until the exhibition’s closing day on November 22.

Amid the political upheaval, the 2025 Biennale carries a historic legacy: it is the first major central exhibition curated by an African woman, the late Cameroonian curator Koyo Kouoh, who passed away one year ago before the show could be completed. Five collaborating curators stepped in to bring Kouoh’s vision to life, a vision centered on amplifying underrepresented minority perspectives from across the globe. The exhibition greets visitors with a towering, red feather-sculpted costume embroidered with glass beads, rooted in the Black Masking carnival culture of New Orleans, a tradition born from cultural practices brought to the Americas by enslaved Africans. In total, Kouoh selected 110 artists and collectives to participate, staying true to her core mission of carving out space for creators who are often sidelined by mainstream arts institutions. “She dedicated her practice to making space for every voice to shine, and that ethos runs through every corner of this exhibition,” explained co-curator Marie Helene Pereira.

Leading the slate of nationally curated pavilions, Britain’s representative, Turner Prize-winner Lubaina Himid, brings a deeply personal exploration of immigration, belonging and what it means to build a home in an adopted country. Titled *Predicting History: Testing Translation*, the presentation features vivid, brightly colored canvases that depict couples navigating the everyday dilemmas of being a newcomer. Himid, who was born in Zanzibar and has lived in Britain for more than 70 years, broke down the core tension of one standout work: “We have two architects debating where to build. One argues that building a permanent structure would prove they have contributed to the nation’s culture. The other says no – we need to build something we can escape from if we have to leave tomorrow.”

Off the main exhibition grounds, the Vatican has stepped in to offer visitors a quiet spiritual escape from the surrounding chaos with its pavilion, the *Mystic Garden*, installed on the grounds of the Discalced Carmelite order adjacent to Venice’s central train station. Guests wander through working vineyards, past a fruiting pomegranate tree and beds of fragrant herbs, wearing headphones that deliver a curated soundscape: reimagined compositions by 12th-century abbess, mystic and composer St. Hildegard of Bingen, reworked by contemporary artists including Brian Eno and Patti Smith. “Music helps us turn inward and connect with what Hildegard called the symphony that God placed within every life,” explained Father Ermanno Barucco, prior of the Carmelite order overseeing the installation.

Austria’s pavilion has become one of the most talked-about presentations on the Giardini grounds thanks to its unflinching, provocative performance art, which uses unorthodox materials to critique overtourism and the commercialization of Venice. Outside the pavilion, a naked female performer hangs from a giant brass bell, acting as a human clapper that rings the instrument with every movement. Inside, another nude performer rides a Jet ski in circles inside a large water tank, a visual metaphor for Venice’s transformation into nothing more than a crowded amusement park for international tourists. In one of the exhibition’s most controversial pieces, a third nude performer breathes through a scuba regulator while submerged in a tank of filtered toilet water pulled from nearby facilities, for a project titled *Seaworld Venice*.

Against the backdrop of calls for boycott, Israeli pavilion artist Belu-Simion Fainaru, a Romanian-born Israeli, has centered his installation on the tension between love and war, rooted in Jewish mysticism. Water drips slowly from suspended glass tubes into a central pool, pausing every cycle for exactly 42 seconds – a reference to the 42-day divine creation of the world in Jewish mystical tradition. Locks of love, similar to those placed by romantic couples on European bridges, hang across the pavilion walls, engraved with the commandment “Love thy neighbor as thyself” in Hebrew and the hopeful phrase “This too shall pass.” Fainaru pushed back against calls to exclude Israel, framing his own participation as a political act in favor of dialogue: “I oppose boycotts, and I stand for open conversation. That is my political statement. The jury’s move to exclude Israel from awards is nothing less than discrimination.”

Closing out the slate of standout national presentations, the Estonian pavilion centers the unrecognized labor of women through a durational, living artwork. Artist Merike Estna is working on-site throughout the entire six-month run of the Biennale to complete a large-scale wall painting inside a converted former church that now operates as a community gymnasium. The layered history of the space mirrors Estna’s artistic practice, which builds deeply textured surfaces through repeated, spontaneous applications of paint over time. The daily act of painting is intentional, meant to draw attention to the underappreciated everyday work that sustains communities and the planet. Curator Natalia Sielewicz described the project as “the everyday feminism of sustaining life, of sustaining our planet.”

As a much-anticipated burst of joy for global audiences weary from geopolitical and social uncertainty, the 2026 Eurovision Song Contest is gearing up to kick off its semi-final round in Vienna this Tuesday. This year’s competition brings a smaller lineup than recent editions, with just 35 participating nations – the most compact field since 2003 – a shift driven by a widespread partial boycott over Israel’s inclusion in the contest. While the political controversy remains impossible for many fans to separate from the spectacle, the 2026 iteration still delivers the chaotic, larger-than-life pageantry that has made the annual event a cultural staple, with everything from a silver-painted AI-themed performance and a fake gorilla cameo to pop legend Boy George and the longest sustained high note in contest history.

Following the trend of back-to-back winners Nemo of Switzerland and JJ of Austria, who integrated operatic vocal techniques into their winning tracks, 2026 sees a wave of contestants drawing from classical and operatic inspiration. Leading this pack is 17-year-old French prodigy Monroe, the youngest competitor this year, whose entry *Regarde!* blends frenetic string arrangements, glitched drum beats and powerhouse “Queen of the Night” style vocals. Billed as a celebration of the diverse musical heritage of France, the track builds to a showstopping climax, and industry analysts predict a top 10 finish with thoughtful stage staging. Montenegro’s Tamara Živković takes a maximalist approach on *Nova Zora*, pairing a thunderous techno beat with a Greek chorus to deliver a message about women breaking gender barriers. Co-written by professional opera singer Vesna Aćimović, the track comes as Montenegro aims to end a decade-long semi-final qualification drought that stretches back to 2015. Closing out the operatic category is Latvia’s Liene Atvara, whose haunting ballad *Ēnā* explores the lifelong trauma of growing up with a parent struggling with alcoholism. The soft, muffled opening verses build to a cathartic operatic finale that is guaranteed to leave not a single dry eye in the venue.

Controversy has already erupted around Romania’s return entry *Choke Me*, performed by Bucharest physics master’s student Alexandra Căpitănescu. Critics have labelled the track dangerous and reckless, claiming its lyrics reference unsafe sexual choking, a practice linked to permanent brain injury and death. But Căpitănescu pushes back against this interpretation, explaining the song is a metaphor for the emotional suffocation caused by self-imposed pressure and self-doubt. Regardless of the lyrical debate, the track itself is widely praised for its gritty, urgent energy, built on churning demonic guitar riffs and Căpitănescu’s distinctive raspy vocals. Equally layered is Switzerland’s entry *Alice* from Veronica Fusaro: on the surface a gentle waltz-time ballad about love, the track actually tells a chilling story of abusive stalking from the perspective of the perpetrator, adding a dark twist that elevates the already solid composition.

For fans craving upbeat dance tracks to cut loose to, the 2026 contest delivers no shortage of high-energy options. Bulgaria’s entry *Bangaranga*, performed by established pop star Dara, is a delightfully unapologetic, sass-filled bop packed with a speaker-shattering drum beat and an gratuitous, crowd-pleasing dance break. Germany’s Sarah Engels offers a more conventional Euro-dance anthem *Fire*, which draws clear inspiration from Dua Lipa’s pop-dance sound and relies on the familiar rhyme of “fire” and “desire”, but the track remains stubbornly catchy enough to perform well in public televoting. Belgium’s brooding pop entry *Dancing On the Ice* from Essyla is a sleek, hypnotic track that lacks the knockout chorus needed to take the top prize, while Cyprus’s Antigoni – a former *Love Island* contestant – invites audiences to the dance floor for sun-soaked Mediterranean escapism with *Jalla*. Blending traditional Tsifteteli belly dance rhythms with the Latin-infused sensuality associated with Shakira, the track already made headlines when a group of conservative Cypriot public figures condemned its music video as offensive to local history and traditions – a controversy that has only boosted the track’s popularity.

Many 2026 contestants have embraced the challenge of packing multiple distinct sonic ideas into Eurovision’s strict three-minute time limit, resulting in some of the most surprising genre-bending entries in recent memory. Current pre-contest favorites Finland’s Linda Lampenius & Pete Parkkonen deliver *Liekinheitin* (Flamethrower), which opens as a brooding passionate ballad before abruptly shifting into high-energy demonic electro-pop, anchored by a frantic violin solo. Already a number one hit in Finland, the track uses the metaphor of third-degree burns from intimate contact to describe all-consuming red-hot love, building to a climax as tense as a bomb countdown. Close behind Finland in the rankings is Greece, whose entry *Ferto* from Akylas blends traditional Greek instrumentation with retro Super Mario video game sound effects and a pulsing house beat. While the track initially reads as a brash anthem chasing fame and fortune, it shifts to a heartfelt tribute to Akylas’s single mother, who raised him through Greece’s devastating financial crisis, with a promise to end their lifelong struggle. Poland’s Alicja *Pray* also uses clever misdirection, opening with a gospel-style organ and mass chorus before shifting into sharp-edged rap, though the overall composition feels disjointed. Lithuania’s Lion Ceccah makes a dramatic visual statement, performing *Sólo Quiero Más* fully covered in silver paint. Sung in six languages, the track explores the rise of artificial intelligence and growing human detachment from reality, with a stage performance reenacting the struggle to break free from machine dependence – a concept that comes off as overly dramatic for many critics.

This year’s contest features two tracks centered on the universal frustration of corporate burnout and workplace dissatisfaction. Armenia’s Simón Hovhannisyan leads this theme with the gritty rock track *Paloma Rumba*, whose lyrics mock unproductive corporate meetings and empty workplace perks, with the line “This meeting could have been an email / Free coffee won’t keep me here, man.” His stage performance sees him flinging stacks of paper across the stage while backflipping toward the exit, backed by traditional Armenian folk instruments the duduk and dohl, though critics note the high-energy track becomes exhausting over its three-minute run time. The United Kingdom’s entry from the uniquely named Look Mum No Computer echoes this frustration. Over a rambunctious synth-driven sound that blends Kraftwerk’s electronic experimentation with Kaiser Chiefs’ Britpop energy, he laments being trapped in an office cubicle before escaping on a road trip across Europe, delivering the catchy chorus “Ein, Zwei, Drei” in German – a playful move clearly designed to appeal to EU voters, which the UK has struggled to win over in recent years. The entry has already divided audiences: some praise the UK for taking a creative risk, while others find the track irritating, meaning its final result will likely hinge on the quality of its live performance.

The slow, dramatic ballad category is packed with powerhouse vocal performances this year. Australia is sending one of its biggest pop stars, Delta Goodrem, to Vienna with *Eclipse*, a sweeping romantic ballad in the tradition of Celine Dion that describes a passion so intense it blocks out the sun. While the premise is scientifically unlikely, Goodrem’s conviction and vocal control make the track a credible contender for the grand prize. Denmark’s Søren Torpegaard Lund delivers a torrid tale of toxic romance on *Før Vi Går Hjem* (Before We Go Home), anchored by a simmering intensity that captivates audiences even if the simple chorus feels unremarkable. Azerbaijan’s Jiva delivers a cinematic break-up ballad *Just Go*, with cold, cutting lyrics about erasing a former lover from one’s soul, though the track blends into the crowd of similar overblown ballads that have failed to qualify for the final in recent years. Malta’s Aidan, one of the country’s biggest stars, brings a tender, wounded sincerity to the sentimental ballad *Bella*, in which he pines for the title character, whose name is repeated 20 times across the track. Israel’s Noam Bettan offers another heartbreak ballad *Michelle*, which tells the story of being trapped in emotional pain after a devastating relationship, with flourishes of Spanish guitar, but fails to connect emotionally with listeners. Ukraine’s band Leléka delivers one of the most resonant entries of the contest with *Ridnym*, a delicate, understated track that explores the feeling of hopelessness during war and the quiet drive to keep going despite everything. The song closes with a stunning 30-second-long high note – the longest in Eurovision history – that leaves audiences breathless just thinking about it.

Several entries this year center deeply emotional, personal storytelling rooted in national history. Albania’s Alis delivers the devastating ballad *Nân*, which tells the story of a mother waiting for her child to return home, a theme that resonates deeply in Albania, where 40% of the population has emigrated since the fall of communism in 1991. A former X Factor winner, Alis delivers the track with a raw sincerity that is hard to match. Croatia’s ethno-pop quintet Lelek shares a harrowing historical story on *Andromeda*, which explores the suppression, abduction and forced marriage of Christian women during the Ottoman Empire, and the secret cross tattoos they used to protect their identity. Portugal’s entry *Rosa* from Bandidos do Cante stands out from the crowded field with its simple, stunning a capella arrangement drawn from the traditional cante Alentejano musical tradition, born from bull-herders who sang to coordinate their work. Turning the energy back up, Moldova’s Satramos delivers *Viva, Moldova!*, a raucous celebration of the first generation of Moldovans born after independence, blending the upbeat energy of hits like Chumbawamba’s *Tubthumping* with traditional pan flute. Satramos performs in a football jersey printed with the number 373 – Moldova’s international dialing code – and the track even opens with a playful nod to the arrival jingle played at Chișinău International Airport, making it a joyful love letter to Moldovan culture.

For fans craving nostalgic disco vibes, 2026 offers several throwback entries. San Marino brings a high-profile collaboration with three-time contestant Senhit teaming up with 80s pop icon Boy George for the transcontinental disco track *Superstar*, though critics note the track lacks the fizz of past memorable entries, falling flat despite its star power. Georgia’s entry *On Replay* from junior Eurovision 2008 winners Bzikebi is a generic club track that fails to stand out, despite the band’s energetic live performance. Italian veteran Sal Da Vinci’s throwback disco track *Per Sempre Sì*, dedicated to his long-time wife and childhood sweetheart, leaves audiences with a warm, nostalgic glow, though its dated sound makes a win unlikely. Luxembourg’s Eva Marija, a songwriting student at a London music school, rounds out this group with *Mother Nature*, an uplifting eco-themed pop track that draws comparisons to young indie-pop stars Griff and Sigrid, which her classmates immediately identified as a potential hit when she first performed it.

Several 2026 entries play with language and unexpected conceptual narratives, resulting in some of the contest’s most quirky entries. Host nation Austria pins its hopes on 19-year-old Cosmó, whose track *Tanzschein* – literally translated as “dance license” – opens with the deadpan declaration “You need a dance licence, I have to be strict about that” over a slinking bass line. The track compares clubgoers to jungle animals, and features a stage performance with costumed gorillas and lions, leading to widespread confusion over whether it’s a commentary on toxic nightlife culture or just a chaotic bit of fun. Sweden’s Felicia performs *My System* wearing a diamond-studded face mask, which she reveals represents her struggles with mental health and self-image, while the lyrics tell the story of a destructive relationship she experienced early in her music industry career, paired with a thunderous techno drop sure to shock older audiences. Czechia’s Daniel Žižka embraces mixed metaphors on *Crossroads*, placing himself simultaneously in open waters, foreign fields, a golden cage and a vicious spider web to explore the difficulty of making decisions in an age of information overload. The brooding ballad builds to a stunning vocal climax, but it remains to be seen whether voters will be turned off by its convoluted lyrical concept.

Rock makes a strong return to the 2026 contest, five years after Måneskin’s iconic victory. Norway’s Jonas Lovv delivers *Ya Ya Ya*, a catchy, charisma-filled stomp-rock track with a riff echoing The Hives’ *Hate To Say I Told You So*, built for group singing. Estonia’s Vanilla Ninja, who previously represented Switzerland in 2005, offers the perky pop-rock anthem *Too Epic To Be True*, which carries the playful energy of early 2000s *Josie & The Pussycats*, though it currently sits near the bottom of pre-contest betting odds. For fans who prefer their rock dark and menacing, Serbia’s nu-metal band Lavina delivers *Kraj Mene* (Next To You), a smouldering track about suffocating infatuation that builds to a genuinely terrifying final scream from frontman Luka Aranđelović – a chilling note to end our preview on.

With semi-finals set to kick off in just a few days, the 2026 Eurovision Song Contest delivers something for every taste, from dance bops to emotional ballads, conceptual oddities to crowd-pleasing rock. All that remains is to see which entries will win over the global audience and claim a spot in the grand final, and hopefully end the UK’s recent streak of low-point finishes.