The first Hungarian semi-final was a strange mix of cloying jazz ladies, dour ballads and men that looked like murderers. But the only song that really stood out here at Apocalypse Mansions was this odd little dance-fuelled ditty.
There was so much that shouldn't have worked with it. The girlie singer sounded out-o- breath from the off and seemed like she was being bullied by her own hair. On top of that, the verse was more memorable and upbeat than the chorus, which is never a good idea, and most of the boys in the band looked like murderers.
But somehow, all those poorly matched ingredients made for rather an enjoyable three minutes, and I'd become quite a fan by the end of it. Unsurprisingly, it came last.
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