The winner of this year's Eurovision Song Contest, whoever it turns out to be, will have a big ol' asterisk next to their name in the history books, so let's start there: Israel's participation has caused a whopping, unprecedented five countries to boycott the event in protest of Israel's conduct in Gaza, even as the contest's organizers struggle mightily to project an apolitical, uncontroversial image. That effort is more doomed than ever this year, because the boycotting countries include dependable Eurovision powerhouses Ireland (which has won the seven-decade-old contest a record seven times, tied only with Sweden), The Netherlands (five wins) and Spain (which has only won twice, but is historically one of the contest's "Big Five" main sponsors, alongside the U.K., France, Germany and Italy, so its absence is a very big deal). Iceland and Slovenia are staying home, too.
That leaves 35 countries in the competition in Vienna, Austria this year, ten of which have now been eliminated in semifinals held Tuesday and Thursday.
This Saturday, the 25 countries that made it through to the Grand Final will perform their songs in astonishingly rapid succession; despite its perennial veneer of sparkly chaos, Eurovision is, from a production logistics standpoint, the very tightest of ships. Here in the U.S., the ESC Grand Final will be streamed live on Peacock and on YouTube Saturday at 3 p.m ET. The whole megillah usually takes 4+ hours, so clear your day. Here's how it works: To win, a song needs to do well in both the live televote, and in the votes collected from the 35 national juries — groups of music professionals in each participating country.
Televoters are overwhelmingly made up of casual fans who are experiencing the songs for the very first time — as a group, they gravitate to performances big on spectacle, pyrotechnics, choreography. The juries, on the other hand, have spent the past few months with this music, having observed the performers at pre-parties and rehearsals. For them, it's more generally about the technical aspects — vocal skill, song structure, radio-friendliness, that kind of thing.
While the televotes get tallied, the jury votes will get collected over a series of what amount to janky Zoom calls to each participating country. These calls will be marked by video lags. There will be long stretches of dead air as the Eurovision hosts wait to receive various juries' votes while staring down the barrel of the camera. It will be uncomfortable and interminable and kind of thrillingly, cheesily wonderful, all at once.
Once the juries have voted, the reveal of the televotes begins, starting with the country that received the fewest jury votes. Feel free to duck out during the jury votes — but get your butt back on the couch for this bit, because this is what Eurovision is all about. Combining the televote with the jury votes causes countries to suddenly surge or plummet in the final rankings. Upsets happen. Lives change in a matter of seconds. And it's all intercut with shots of the various performers sitting awkwardly in booths, grinning desperate rictus grins as they waggle tiny national flags. It's magical.
The top 10 songs of Eurovision 2026
10. France, "Regarde!" by Monroe
The past two winners of Eurovision (Nemo's "The Code" and JJ's "Wasted Love") have featured opera-inflected vocals, so you'd be forgiven for chalking "Regarde!" up as France's attempt to climb aboard the bandwagon. But the French, bless 'em, have been driving that particular bandwagon for years, and Monroe fits snugly into their longstanding Eurovision tradition of la belle chanteuse with a little something extra in le tanque.
The song itself? Frenchier than a parfumed, pompadoured poodle, replete with images of wandering lovesick through the nighttime Parisian streets while ruminating on what exactly love is or isn't, and where it might be found. ("C'est ça l'amour/Il est partout/Il est là, là, là.")
What's kind of shockingly new here, for a French entry, is Monroe herself, who's all of 17 years old and … quelle scandale! — American. Well, French American anyway, born in Salt Lake City and raised mostly in the U.S.; according to her official ESC bio, she was "introduced to singing and piano at an early age," which: She's 17, so … yeah, guys. Bien freakin' sur. If 17 seems too young to endure the stresses of a competition viewed by millions of people globally, just know that she's completely at home onstage, and has been sailing through the song's demanding vocal gymnastics in run-up performances. Regardez her.
9. Greece, "Ferto," by Akylas
ESC 2026 is woefully light on weirdo wackadoo entries, which is a shame, because a healthy dose of goofiness (see: recent cheeseballs like Subwoolfer's "Give That Wolf a Banana," Windows95man's "No Rules!" and Tommy Cash's "Espresso Macchiato") dependably cuts through the bombast and tooth-aching earnestness of the competition.
This year, the closest thing we get is Greece's entry "Ferto," which means "Bring it," wherein Akylas lists the things he wants … well, brought to him: A crown, a throne, a checkbook stack, a drink, everything (x2), real estate (that should prove difficult), sashimi, a gold watch, designer sunglasses, a leather coat, escargot, rally cars, a yacht with stars, glory, eternity (even more difficult to transport than property, surely), cash, expensive clothes and everyone screaming his name. But lest you think our guy greedy, he tosses in a heartfelt last-minute verse directed to his mother, promising to share everything with her. Aw. Enjoy your half of those garlicky snails, Mrs. Akylas!
8. Croatia, "Andromeda," by LELEK
This witchy ethno-bop is a gorgeous, haunting affair, and if they nail those intricately intertwining harmonies on Saturday, they stand to do quite well. But maybe not: Last year, Latvia went with a broadly similar approach (Tautumeitas' "Bur Man Laimi"), and only ended up taking 13th place, because the juries liked them a lot more than the viewing public did.
Melodically, it's quite beautiful. Lyrically, it's dark and (for Eurovision) substantive stuff, referencing the abduction of women during the Ottoman Empire: "Why is history written all over again?/Our sons are not subjects nor servants/Do their cradle-cries still haunt you at night?"
Once again, for the folks in the back: Do their cradle-cries still haunt you at night? As musical questions go, it really puts "Who put the bop in the bop-sh-bop?" and "What does the fox say?" in perspective, don't it?
7. Moldova, "Viva, Moldova!" by Satoshi
The line between national pride and nationalism is a historically thin and perilously fraught one, but Satoshi's chest-thumping, foot-stomping, crowd-pleasing and ultimately good-natured anthem to his home country neatly navigates that trap by eagerly steering into a kind of breathless international inclusivity, featuring verses in Romanian, Italian, Latin, English, Spanish, French and even, technically, out of precisely nowhere, Hawaiian ("Moldova! Aloha! Farewell to the crazy life!"). It's essentially a celebration of Moldova's recent efforts to join the European Union — though of course Eurovision is not and never has been in any way political. Nope.
Extra credit: Listen for the sung-through verse, which is giving Pearl Jam; tell me I'm wrong.
6. Romania, "Choke Me," by Alexandra Căpitănescu
This kind of throaty, hard-candy glam-rock isn't my personal taste, but this is getting a lot of love from Eurovision fans. I see their point: The song will appeal to first-time viewers with its theatrics and catchy "Ch-ch-ch-choke me" chorus, and Căpitănescu's hairpin vocal turns within a single verse — opera to rock to pop and back again — will impress the juries. There's a touch of "Joanne"-era-Gaga to Căpitănescu's voice, and she eats up a stage like the pro she is. I still think I'm right about who's gonna win this year, but this song might just act as a spoiler.
5. Bulgaria, "Bangaranga," by DARA
What can I say? I'm a fan-garanga. Now, yes: At about the one-minute mark, there's a bridge ("I'm an angel/I'm a demon/I'm a psycho/For no reason") that can't help but remind you of Schitt's Creek's "A Little Bit Alexis" ("I'm a Lamborghini/I'm a Hollywood star"). And if you think that isn't purely, cheekily intentional, you are very much not the target market for this insanely catchy bop. The juries will hate its repetitive qualities, but the public will embrace its deep, profound, abiding grooviness.
4. Cyprus, "JALLA," by Antigoni
This selection is classic, old-school Eurovision, slotting neatly into the "Hey, you know what feels good? Dancing. Ethnically." category, and what's gonna be wrong with an expression of cultural joy? "Jalla" is Cypriot for "more," and despite some iffy vocals in the lead-up to the contest, Antigoni has the goods to deliver on that simple promise. So, you know: Opa!
3. Denmark, "Før Vi Går Hjem," by Søren Torpegaard Lund
"Før vi går hjem" means "Before we go home," and the song is a paean to finding someone on the dancefloor, connecting with them on a level both spiritually profound and hella horny, and wishing the night will never end.
The song's a slow build, and how well it does Saturday will have a lot to do with how well Søren lands that one soaring note at about the 2:20 mark. The sexy staging will help, inasmuch it reads as a coming-out narrative – 1. Søren watches longingly from the outside as hot people dance in a glass box; 2. Søren manages to climb into said box, and 3. Søren and his fellow hot people spill out of the box together, dancing ecstatically.
2. Sweden, "My System," by FELICIA
Sweden are the ultimate pros at Eurovision. They're the perennial frontrunners, the default overdogs, the Yankees. So it's odd that they've decided to go with an EDM banger this year, which may well find its way into the hearts, and hips, of the viewing public but is certain to alienate the juries, who are, as a group, the very fuddiest of duddies.
But Felicia's a performer who's generated a lot of goodwill among ESC fans, and I, too, find myself helpless before this performance: "'Cause now you're in my head/My heart/My body parts." Yep. That about sums it up nicely, song.
Before we get to the song that oddsmakers (and I) heavily favor to win Eurovision 2026, let's tick off some Honorable Mentions:
Honorable Mention, Now is the Time on Sprockets When We Dance Edition
Austria, "Tanzschein," by COSMÓ
Tanzschein is German for "dance permit," as in: "Do you have a dance permit?/No, this is not a joke/'Cause without a dance permit/You're not getting in." And while the concept of needing to obtain a government-issued contractual dispensation for the shaking of one's groove-thing is about as Austrian as it gets, the lyrics aren't nearly as cold and severe as you might expect.
The singer envisions his fellow clubgoers as the animal kingdom — lions targeting gazelles on the savanna, etc. But then he sees a hot gorilla standing alone in the corner, too self-conscious to surrender to the music, so he takes the big ape by the hand and leads him out to the dancefloor.
While this song's whole Kraftwerk vibe is fun (and a deliberate bit), it's not a serious contender for the win. But because Austria won the contest last year, it's hosting the event this year and automatically got put through to the Grand Final. Which points up an abiding Eurovision truth: Countries love to win, but hosting the event is a huge financial drain. Which is why host countries dutifully compete, but rarely put on their A-game.
Honorable Mention, Bubble and Squeak Edition
United Kingdom, "Eins, Zwei, Drei," by LOOK MUM NO COMPUTER
The U.K. struggles in Eurovision, despite being one of the "Big Five" countries contributing the most money to the whole endeavor. This year, they've decided to go with a gleefully, even defiantly British song that sounds like if you stuffed a Blur CD into a Doc Marten, slathered it in Marmite and Hobnobs, then nipped down to the corner chip shop to fry it up. Yes, OK, the singer expresses acute boredom with life in England, and longs to leave. But what's more purely British than the act of whinging?
Honorable Mention, Rethink Your Central Metaphor Edition
Australia, "Eclipse," by Delta Goodrem
Yes, Australia competes in Eurovision, get over it. While it makes no sense geographically, culturally it's a perfect fit: As a nation, they're superfans, and they've got a respectable, if recently spotty record. Since they started competing in 2015, they've landed in the top 10 five times — but for the past two years they didn't even qualify for the Grand Final. That ignoble mini-streak ends this year.
Don't chalk that up to the song itself, which is a hoary throwback dripping with hilariously overproduced, Céline-esque schmaltz. Thank the star power of Delta Goodrem, a legendary Australian performer who will shine, nay, incandesce, on the ESC stage. This will do well, despite its willfully obtuse lyrics comparing the uniting of lovers with the meeting of two heavenly bodies in the sky, which sounds all romantic until you remember the basic astronomical fact that in any eclipse, one body interposes itself, obscuring its partner.
No? That doesn't bother anyone else? Just me? Seriously? Fine.
Here, finally, is the song to bet on at your Eurovision party. It's been the oddsmakers' favorite for months now, and with good reason.
1. Finland, "Liekinheitin," by Linda Lampenius x Pete Parkkonen
Pete Parkkonen is a popstar, Linda Lampenius is a world-renowned classical violinist. On Saturday, he'll be doing the singing, and she'll be doing the fiddling. Live. Which turns out to be a big deal.
Historically, Eurovision doesn't permit instruments to be played live, but the Finnish delegation made the case that Lampenius' violin acts, in this song, as her voice. And the Powers That Be bought it. Some rules were made to be broken.
And speaking of rules: You know who rules? Linda Lampenius, who at 56 would become the oldest Eurovision winner in history, if things work out that way. There's a bit at the end of the song where she stomps down the stage in thigh-high boots toward Parkkonen's flaming confessional booth (just go with it) while sawing away at the violin. It is iconic, it is powerful, it is Eurovision distilled to its glitterbomb essence, and will get the crowd on its feet.
Lyrically, though, there's not much new here — just the go-to ESC imagery of love as flames. (The singer complains that his lover burns hot and cold, that she ignores him when she's with her friends, that she's a liekinheitin, or flamethrower.) (Which technically only burns hot, not hot and cold, but let it go.)
No, this song is all about the build, and that fierce runway stomp downstage is only the penultimate phase of it all. The performance concludes with the singer and the violinist in worshipful tableau as Parkkonen busts out a note that soars up through his multi-octave range, attaining escape velocity as it does so. It's as close to a sure thing as the ESC's had in years.
See y'all next year in Helsinki.
Copyright 2026 NPR
