So, you think it's just a song contest, huh? Wrong!—at least according to Philippe Le Guern of France's Lill University. In an exhaustive academic analysis of the mother of all song contests, he concluded: "The Eurovision Song Contest constitutes a landmark in the collective memory associated to TV history and thus becomes a part of the social memory...it conjures up a collective identity, socializes viewer's singular experience by linking it to all other viewers." So there. 
       Professor Le Guern, in a study released last year, likened the Song Contest to a kind of war substitute, allowing powerful European rivals to battle it out without actually drawing blood. For smaller nations (i.e. the Baltic states), it's a rare chance to compete as equals with bigger states and also to establish their credentials as Europeans, he said. 
       And if you ever suspected that countries tended to vote as blocs, they do, Le Guern said. After scrutinizing Eurovision Song Contests held from 1972 to 1992, he said voting patterns tended to break down into three blocs: a Western Bloc (England, Ireland, France, Holland, Belgium and Luxembourg), a Northern Bloc (the Scandinavian countries plus Germany) and a Mediterranean Bloc (Turkey, Italy, Spain, Yugoslavia, Greece and Cyprus.) Each was far more likely to vote for countries within its bloc than for those outside it. And as a rule of thumb, the further away countries are, the less likely they are to give each other points. Norway and Turkey, for instance, gave each other an average of 0.7 points (out of 12) during the 20-year period studied, while Greece and Cyprus gave each other an average of about 9 points. Countries that share histories, a language or religion are much more likely to trade votes.   
       A key to victory, said Geurn, was to win what he called surplus votes—the votes that are left over after the blocs have divvied out points to each other. The Western bloc—which accounts for the vast majority of Eurovision wins-traditionally draws most of these. The Northern Bloc tends to give most of its extra votes to the Western Bloc. 
       Le Guern's study also went on to say that "an analysis of lyrics and musical forms show an obvious homogeneity of content and melodies." Out of 24 songs in the 2000 Contest, 16 were about love and the eight others dealt with "commonplace observations about the contemporary world," he said. "A study of the lyrics over a longer period reveals that a strategy aiming at erasing national idiosyncrasies has been a constant feature of the contest." This manifested itself in a fondness for mumbo-jumbo in the '60s, or to quote the immortal lyrics of the 1968 Norwegian entry: "Ma, ma, ma, ma, ma, ma....ga, ga, ga, ga, ga, ga....ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha." Le Guern said that only a few countries-including France and Spain-still nominate songs with any hint of local flavor. The smaller the country, he said, the less likely they were to buck the trend towards international pop. 
       Unsurprisingly, language is also a key factor in who wins. Songs in French and English account for two-thirds of all Eurovision victories, said Le Guern. No song in English has ever received zero points—a distinction reserved for non-French and non-English songs. Most countries didn't need a university paper to tell them that: the majority of songs sung in recent Contests, including Estonia's winning song in 2001, have been in English. 
       One question the French professor left unanswered: He didn't say if he actually liked the Song Contest or not. 

And who says singing order's not important? British scientist Dr. Richard Wiseman, of the University of Hertfordshire, compared Eurovision results over several decades and found that you were in serious trouble if you were the 13th performer in a final. Norway, which has come in last eight times, has drawn the No. 13 slot four times—including in 1981 when it famously won no points. Just two countries have won from the No. 13 slot: one of them, Belgium, is one of the few counties in Europe that considers 13 a lucky number. Wiseman speculated that the notion that 13 is unlucky becomes a self-fulfilling prophesy: No. 13 singers may be more nervous and those judging the contest—television viewers and juries—may be superstitious themselves and shy away from casting ballots for that number. 
       Who's was unlucky 13 in 2002? Tough luck Finland.

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