Lordi, shown here performing Hard Rock Hallelujah during the 2006 Eurovision Song Contest, changed everything. Photograph: Orestis Panagiotou/EPA
Having experienced the Finnish music scene first-hand, I was primed for Lordi. But in Eurovision terms, the monster rockers' victory last year was the biggest seismic shock since Sandie Shaw went barefoot in 1967. And this year, for perhaps the first time, it may be worth putting up with Terry Wogan's mocking quips (or is he merely reflecting the nation's love of postmodern irony?) and sitting through the drawn-out, two-stage contest of contests.
Post-Lordi, from Andorra to Israel, a massive rethink has been going on. Thanks to the increasingly important public vote, the Eurovision institutions have suddenly discovered rock music. Ballads, quasi-folkloric displays and cheesy pop are on their way out, as Norse rockers armed with pyrotechnics storm the stage. Of course, it wouldn't be proper Eurovision if each song didn't possess the tendency to annoy within a minute, but for varying degrees of outrageousness, this year's farrago could even be interesting.
Sweden, which caused significant tremors two years ago when Kiss-esque glam-metallers Wig Wam took the Eurovision stage, has now selected a band of T Rex sound-alikes with a frontman who tops Bolan for effeminacy: the Ark. Denmark has chosen the pink-attired DQ (drag queen) for an 80s hi-NRG number, Drama Queen. Presumably with an eye on the astronomical costs of staging a successive event, Finland has come up with a more mediocre effort this year - more Avril Lavigne than Slipknot. And while Iceland's shot, Eirikur Hauksson, might look a little like Lordi, he's a torch song man.
This year's biggest shocker, though, comes from Israel - that's if Eurovision HQ doesn't disqualify it for political reasons. But, as Kobi Oz, the frontman of longstanding punk-chutzpah band TeaPacks explains, Push The Button, is a universal anti-bomb song, with the message relayed in at least three languages.
As for the United Kingdom, Justin Hawkins has emerged post-Darkness with unknown soul singer Beverlei Brown. On Saturday, he'll be contesting Big Brovaz and comeback king Brian Harvey, plus Bucks Fizz acolytes Scooch, to represent his country. If their stodgy funk-rock song, They Don't Make 'Em Like They Used To Do wasn't such a horrendous scream-a-thon from the moment Hawkins opens his mouth, the UK could have been in with a shot.
As it is, my money's on Andorra and Anonymous, four Anglo-Catalan teens (the singer reputedly born in Guildford), sadly reduced to a trio for Eurovision, as the bassist is too young to compete. Unless Polish R&B-pop, a Greek Tom Jones or limpid Irish folk sway the juries, we could have the next Busted on our hands - albeit singing about saving the world in Catalan and Surrey English, rather than about looking up their teacher's skirt in a fake Californian accent.
Who knows, with this frantic modernisation gathering pace, by 2012 we might even see grime, art-rock or dub-step swamping Eurovision, and a Terry Wogan filter introduced to interactive TV technology, so we can finally enjoy the cross-cultural mayhem in its natural, irony-free setting.
