Love Love, Peace Peace – Party for Everybody

Lily Johnson, Junior Dean and former JCR President (2016), finds unexpected nostalgia from watching Eurovision Again.


An enthusiastic Lily preparing for 2016 Eurovision in the JCR

As with many people, this lockdown period has got me feeling nostalgic. One throwback I wasn’t expecting was to be transported back to May 2016 when the JCR was full of people huddled round the TV, watching two Swedes sing about love and peace in front of an excitable crowd. This had been proceeded by a Russian man climbing a wall and a Bulgarian woman with lights on her knees. Together we shared food from different countries with flag stickers stuck on them. Strange times indeed.

In case you hadn’t guessed, the cause for this bizarre scene was, of course, the Eurovision Song Contest. And the reason I have been reminded of it at this time? A British Eurovision fan called Rob Holley had started a trend on Twitter by streaming past competitions on YouTube, bring fans of the annual contest together even though they were mostly under lockdown in their own homes. The premise behind #EurovisionAgain is simple: every Saturday night at 7.45pm (Sunday for this week only) the year of the contest will be revealed via tweet from their account. Then, 15 minutes later, the streaming begins, accompanied by lots of chatter on Twitter, culminating in a fan vote for their favourite performance.

So far they have streamed eight shows, ranging from the 1997 contest in Dublin (the last time the UK won!) up until the aforementioned 2016 contest in Stockholm. And it is this competition that has particularly stuck with me, in part because of its resonances with a very particular time in my life within Regent’s, and also because, to my mind, the show was the perfect representation of what Eurovision is about.

Firstly, the performances that year had the perfect mix of all the things that make Eurovision great. As has become the trend of songs since 2000, many of the songs were in English although Macedonian, Italian, Bulgarian, Crimean Tartar, French, and other European languages were on show. In the ‘postcard’ before each performance showcased the artist’s individual personalities and where they came from. The costumes were extravagant, and it was the year of the dramatic pause mid-song – something that really jars just 4 years later. It was also the first year of the delightfully random inclusion of Australia.

Secondly, it was a year fuelled by political drama. The eventual winner (spoiler alert!) was Ukraine with Jamala and her song ‘1944’. Rather than the typical upbeat europop typically associated with Eurovision, this was a frankly quite waily song about the Russian deportation of the Crimean Tartars in 1944 in which the singer’s great-grandmother lost her daughter. Not the most cheerful topic, but in the wake of the 2014 Russian annexation of Crimea, it doubtlessly was received as politically charged.

And finally, the half time performance was, quietly simply, perfect. Usually, I would say the half time performance is the worst part as the underequipped presenters struggle through awkward and unfunny skits. But 2016, the golden year, was different. The presenters, singer Måns Zelmerlöw and comedian Petra Mede, performed a song explaining the perfect way to do a song for Eurovision. It was self-aware and tongue-in-cheek but did not make a mockery of the contest and its performers. It was a loving tease, aimed at fans, and not seeking to embarrass them. It made references to previous iconic performances which featured grandmothers, obscure national instruments, massive drums, a man in a hamster wheel, and a DJ scratching fake decks. The song’s title, Love, Love, Peace, Peace, refers to the often cheesy or simplistic messages of hope and goodwill that Eurovision songs express. There’s even a key change followed by fake snow!

2016’s interval act: Love Love, Peace Peace

I know that to many people the Eurovision Song Contest is an embarrassing relic of poor taste and bad music. But I think there is something that we can learn from it. I remember watching that performance of Love, Love, Peace, Peace in the JCR with people like me who had watched every show since they were tiny, and some people for whom this was a completely new experience. And in that moment, the shared experience and the shared joke of the song connected us with each other and with people throughout Europe and beyond as 204 million people watched live. That connection with others is important. As is the ability to laugh at ourselves and not take things too seriously. The spirit of Eurovision is not one of competition, even though at the end of the evening a winner is crowned. It is about this coming together, making shared memories, no matter how ridiculous they are, and having some fun.

And so my lockdown Saturday nights will continue to be lit up by reliving past Eurovision contests. It’s embarrassing to admit but the light-hearted fun that they bring continues to give me that same joy it did when I watched them originally, even if this time it is not in the JCR surrounded by friends. For those kinds of experiences, I will have to wait for another year.

EurovisionAgain is raising money for Mermaids, the Terrence Higgins Trust, and Stonewall. You can make a donation to support them here.