The public can watch the Eurovision dress rehearsals. Photo / Julia D'Orazio
The public can watch the Eurovision dress rehearsals. Photo / Julia D'Orazio
Human-sized blenders, steamy sauna dance-offs, broken chandeliers, and a whole lot of dominatrix attire; expect the unexpected at the world’s biggest song contest, writes four-time attendee Julia D’Orazio
Imagine a city in full-on party mode for a whole week. Everywhere you go, a rainbow on earth, love is in theair. Camp costumes parade down streets, no one batting an eye at the avant-garde fashion or country flags worn as capes morning, noon and night. Spontaneous group sing-alongs, even dedicated karaoke trams, become the city’s new rhythm and beat. Songsters worshipped and celebrated in public squares and sweatbox clubs. In short, good times and vibes all around.
Eurovision 2025. Photo / Julia D'Orazio
This is exactly what attending the Eurovision Song Contest is like. And I would know; it’s not my first disco. I’m unashamedly a Eurovision tragic, having made the melody-driven pilgrimage four times.
The contest – now known simply as Eurovision – was established to unite a post-World War II Europe in Lugano, Switzerland, in 1956. Today, it is a musical extravaganza; the world’s biggest song festival is the Olympics of singing, dancing and innovative staging. It’s the whole package.
Eurovision glory is not just a fleeting moment. Its previous winners include pop royalty ABBA and Celine Dion, with the competition coming a long way since their respective crownings. It has even embraced Australia as a participant despite it being some 14,000km away from Europe (but more on geographical positioning later).
Dress rehearsals in St Jakobshalle, Basel. Photo / Julia D'Orazio
Each nation is represented by a one-of-a-kind performance, with the expectation of earworm bops, eccentric costumes and props, high-energy choreographed dance routines, and a sleek light show you wouldn’t want to imagine the power bill for. All are vying for the coveted trophy: bragging rights and the right to host the following year. How they reach the top depends on the country’s juries and the voting public. Hearing “Douze” (12) points is music to all ears; “nul” points is the dreaded vote, a sum the UK is unfortunately all too familiar with.
Tense ballots aside, Eurovision also delivers many unique and carefree experiences off stage. Every host city brings its own twist and flair to the event. And kudos to Switzerland’s Basel for giving the contest’s 69th edition the “Welcome Home” party it deserved.
Walking along Basel's Steinenvorstadt. Photo / Julia D'Orazio
A non-stop festive atmosphere was felt around the city long before Austria’s JJ was crowned 2025’s Eurovision winner at St. Jakobshalle Basel arena on Saturday, May 18.
The contest officially starts on the Sunday before the grand final with an opening ceremony “red” carpet event. This year’s Turquoise Carpet was the longest in the contest’s history, a scenic 1.3km passage through Basel’s Old Town, over the Rhine across the 13th-century bridge Mittlere Bruck to the city’s events hub, Messe Quartier.
The parade included all 37 contestants travelling on vintage trams, closely bordered by thousands of jubilant fans, some lucky (myself included) to have selfies with newfound icons. Between slo-mo traffic, an eclectic spectacle of traditional carnival groups, masked musicians, drummers and pipers, local dance groups and techno beats delighted crowds.
The Netherlands' Claude poses with author Julia D'Orazio for a selfie along Basel's Turquoise Carpet. Photo / Julia D'Orazio
There ain’t no party like a Eurovision party with a mix-bag of festivities held throughout the week. Eurovision Village is a one-stop shop for fans to mingle at pop-up bars, food trucks, concerts, public viewings, and ‘grammable activations. EuroClub attracts the night owls, dancing to wins (or shaking off shock losses) to past and present Eurovision bangers.
This year, Basel chose to spread the love beyond the two usual places of Eurovision worship to include parties on the move. People were encouraged to dance to buskers on “Eurovision Street” and live performances at “Eurovision Square” in Old Town. A dedicated karaoke tram did city rounds as high-energy dance boat parties crossed borders along the Rhine. ABBA hits were sung in France, Germany, and Switzerland while pedestrians on bridges and riverbanks waved on. The feel-good mood was infectious.
Buskers perform along Basel's Steinenvorstadt (Eurovision Street). Photo / Julia D'Orazio
Leading up to the big GF are two live semifinals. Didn’t score a ticket to a live event? Unlike sporting events, Eurovision offers fans second and third chances to see all the action on stage. Tickets to dress rehearsals and jury shows are available and generally cheaper than going to the coveted live show tapings, and are just as good. I can attest that what you see on screen vastly differs from what you see onstage.
And although New Zealand isn’t involved in the contest (yet!), how about getting behind your closest ally?
Australians have long been enthusiastic about Eurovision, with local multicultural broadcaster SBS televising the contest since 1983. While Australia’s involvement continues to confuse European fans a decade on since their first foray as a participating country, there has been much love for contestants from far-flung Oceania. Despite not making this year’s final, Australia’s Go-Jo, aka the Milkshake Man, gyrated his way into fan hearts, joining the Eurovision icon ranks.
On board the Eurovision Dance Cruise, MS Rhystarn, along the Rhine. Photo / Julia D'Orazio
But as with everything, all good things come to an end. Basel’s pyrotechnics have fizzled out, Go-Jo’s monster blender is now packed away, and a giant airborne gold microphone has been brought to ground. After this year’s brilliantly executed city-wide event, next year’s host country, Austria, has much to live up to, especially when celebrating Eurovision’s platinum anniversary.
