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Creative or Copycat: The SloMo Dancebreak

Three countries came to the 2023 competition with a SloMo-inspired dancebreak to share with the world. Whether you're a fan or not of these songs, my question applies to all of them: Are these dancebreaks a creative take on Chanel's trend? Or are they lackluster copycats? Let's find out in the latest EuroQuision essay!

Written and Researched by Beatrice Quinn

They say imitation is the highest form of flattery. I, for one, consider large sums of riches or compliments about my cheekbones more flattering, thank you. In Eurovision, however, sharing truly is caring as it is no secret to anyone that trends, ideas, staging elements, and even songs themselves are imitated amongst countries the following years – for better and for worse. Should any country pull off anything impressive that manages to have a lasting impact on the viewers, be prepared to see redo’s, redux, and remixes of that very same idea. If you thought the visuals of Mans’ ‘lil balloon child army was “neat,” be prepared for one loud Russian man to get sent hurtling through the depths of space while somehow still inside an arena in Sweden. If this reference means something to you: cool! Please stick around for a later edition of this series where I talk about how 2016 was plagued with “Heroes”-VFX ripoffs. For this first edition of “Creative or Copycat,” we’re gonna watch some dance moves in slow mo-mo-mo, and decide whether the decadent dancebreaks of Eurovision 2023 were creative or copycats.

Where were you when Chanel first performed “SloMo” at Benidorm Fest on January 26th, 2022? After having had access to the songs for Spain’s golden goose egg of a National Final since Dec. 21st, 2021. In that month, fans were treated to early standouts like Tanxugueiras’ “TERRA,” Rigoberta’s “Ay Mama,” and Rayden’s “Calle de la lloreria.” Of the 14 total songs, there was a dembow pop gem called “SloMo” by debut-artist Chanel. Previously a regular face in the Spanish musical theater scene, the Cuban-born singer’s song was catchy, fun, and quite the earworm. However, the song itself sonically didn’t stand out as other selections. Without visuals, it was easy for many fans to overlook Chanel’s potential. By no means did people hate her song – until she did well in Eurovision, but that’s a different essay – but it simply didn’t get as much “hype” as some other songs did. That was, until the first live show…

Chanel takes to Havana-esque stage and begins what can only be described as a meticulously staged, choreographed, and executed ensemble dance routine to what is still just a solo female pop song. As she interacts with the drop-dead-gorgeous dancers around her, we launch into the first chorus. As we’re hit with the “mo-mo-mo” of the chorus, the lights strobe to create an attempt at a “slo-mo” effect before the dance resumes with impressive synchronicity. Chanel continues to dominate all corners of the stage, letting her hair down and repeating the same dance routine as the second chorus hits us. Now remember: for the last month we had only been hearing this song where the second chorus just repeats the same words identically once more; not a very creative direction, but it’s fine, I guess. So as the song gears up to continue as expected, Chanel’s jacket comes off and the music drops. Before you have any moment to prepare, Chanel and her dancers whip their entire upper bodies to the floor and back up as the most impeccable, well-oiled, show-stopping dance break captures our attention and doesn’t let go until Chanel has gone from shaking every angle of her body, collapsing to the floor, high-kicking, flipping her hair some more, and getting back up before singing the rest of the motherfuckin’ song.

So. It was unsurprising when Chanel won the jury vote and ended up winning Benidorm Fest and taking “SloMo” to Eurovision. But now there was an issue presented: Chanel surprised us by saving the dancebreak until the last minute, ensuring that people who had already been listening to the song were surprised with something new, while the dancebreak on its own was still thrilling enough to capture the attention of first-time viewers. But now everyone has seen the dancebreak, and really I mean seen it. Every ESC Pre-party, on Instagram, TikTok, Chanel’s publicity team was going nutso in the buttso with this dance. How was it still going to impress come the night of the Grand Final? Surely would it not have worn itself out? Lucky for the viewing audience, Chanel proved to still have more to give on the night of the final. No, it sadly wasn’t a super-secret-surprise 2nd dancebreak, but there were sparks falling from the ceiling, a fan being tossed across the stage, a new vocal run, and new choreo for Chanel herself where she proceeds to do another vocal run while being dipped.

Naturally, this impressed juries and televoters alike and placed it right up on the podium with a flashy bronze medal. And the success didn’t stop there: on Dec. 31st, 2022, “SloMo” dethroned “Euphoria” [SWE’12] at #1 on the Eurovision Top 250 – the annual radio show where everyone around the world votes on every ESC song in existence – which hadn’t placed lower than #1 since its victory in 2012. So why am I using two full pages and some change of my article to sing the praises of Chanel like she was the second coming of Christ? Because she may as well have been! Spain went from colonizing the Americas to colonizing the Bottom 5 of Eurovision finals ever since they started qualifying for said-final. Out of the 19 editions of ESC Spain has been in since the introduction of semis, 12 of those were in the Btm. 5, with one being dead last in ‘17. Compare that to their Top 10 finishes: a whopping 3. Then: in a brand new National Final format, a Cuban-born singer takes her debut single to ESC and get Spain on the podium. Spain couldn’t even get back in the Top 10 for nearly a decade without getting an artist from a land they colonized, performing a song in a genre of the country Spain colonized–

"Hello!"

"My name is Lynda Woodruff, and I’m the official spokesperson of the EBU. I’m here to remind you all, along with Ms. Beaches Quilt, that Eurovision is a non-political song contest. Now, back to EuroQuizzin– EuroQuestion– Quision! EuroQuision."

Sigh.

Lynda, you get a pass because you’re universally loveable. But we��re not gonna pretend that an international song contest with audiences and artists from countries that have significant histories of geopolitical conflicts, while also at most times actively having geopolitical conflicts, sometimes with other competing countries, is somehow “apolitical.”

However, Spain and colonization isn’t what we’re here for. We’re here to remind ourselves why this is called The SloMo Dancebreak. This is by far not the first dancebreak in this contest’s history, but this song’s dancebreak is associated with a legacy, a redemption after taking a risk and crafting an amazing live performance featuring a stellar new artist. And on top of that, what did we get in 2023? A whopping three acts that contain what we can qualify as a SloMo Dancebreak, and thus we get to decipher: was it creative or copycat?

Ok I promise: I’ll shut up about SloMo after this and talk about 2023. You’ve been so great and so patient, get yourself a treat. I’ll give you a sec.

*waits patiently*

Got a snack?...Great! So the last thing we need to get in writing is what actually “characterizes” the SloMo dancebreak. Like I said, people have danced here before. Other than the legacy and why people like it so much, what’s unique about the SloMo dancebreak/what rules a SloMo or non-SloMo dancebreak? And this is what I love about the concept of “rules” in Eurovision is that there are none – other than the legal ones and ones the producers make up and other rules thereof. But in a spiritual sense, there are no “rules.” Therefore, some rules can be bent and reconstructed. Anyway, my general rule about what makes a SloMo Dancebreak is its essence, and the execution of said dancebreak is up for interpretation. If we were to look at the SloMo dancebreak structurally and how it works in the song, the break itself occurs around the metaphorical 3/4ths point of the song. That is, typically: after the 2nd chorus and either during/part of or in place of the bridge, all occurring before the final chorus. Performance-wise, a SloMo dancebreak is when the lead artist is the unobstructed focal point of the dancebreak. Additionally, the dancebreak is intended to be a noticeable break from lyrics/lead vocals, as Chanel performs no “vocals” during her break. Another important note is that the SloMo dancebreak was not a solo, even though Chanel was the focal point. She had her heavily-involved backup dancers all up in her business from start to finish; her dancebreak was like the one moment where it was just mostly Chanel herself in focus. What comes with this is a certain attitude about the dancebreak – remember how this is more essence than execution. SloMo’s dancebreak commands attention, performing choreography that at minimum looks very impressive to the Eurovision audience, and typically carries a sense of “Should I stunt on the hoes? I think I’m gonna stunt on the hoes.”

So! Are we all agreed on why this dancebreak is significant and what qualifies it? Amazing! Then let’s get to our three acts in question. The SloMo Dancebreaks of Eurovision 2023 are, as I’m sure you already know:

“Solo” [POL] by Blanka

“Unicorn” [ISR] by Noa Kirel

“Future Lover” [ARM] by Brunette

And while I hope this reminder goes for every article I publish, keep in mind I will genuinely attempt to be as objective as possible. In theory, that’s what all of these articles are about: objective deconstruction of Eurovision songs/acts. While I can and will happily share personal opinions where I think appropriately/most comically advantageous, the topic at hand is one that I think merits detail, context, and scrutiny no matter my personal preferences. With that being said, we’ll start by going alphabetically by country. So let’s all decide to be good, do good, and look good with “Future Lover.”

PART I: FUTURE LOVER

After 2022, where a simple folk pop song that finished 20th landed on the fast track to soon hit a billion Spotify streams, Armenia had quite the shoes to fill. Instead of trying the same thing twice, “SNAP” and “Future Lover” are jarringly different songs, especially in the case of composition. Even compared to the 2023 line-up as a whole, Brunette’s dynamic ballad about the anxieties, insecurities, and passionate wants about love is scored with an orchestra that creates a truly dynamic journey through just three minutes. Chilling vocals over a solitary piano soon becomes a soundscape of strings, light percussion, and a noticeable build that ends up thrusting us into a spoken-word verse. Not only is this a unique song for 2023, this is unique in comparison to many Eurovision songs of recent years. On top of this, Brunette is alone on stage while singing atop of a flat, angled, white pane as projected lights and graphics transform the pane into a morphing panel or lights and images. All of this put together creates a truly unique and memorable Eurovision entry, but I know what you’re thinking:

"Where's the dancebreak?"

Well don’t worry! Even though the song in studio/the music video was released without any such dancebreaks, so when Brunette put down her microphone and the song momentarily dropped, audiences were in for a surprise as she began what I personally describe as an abstract contemporary dancebreak. Important note: while I do my best to take it upon myself to research the cultural relevance behind many Eurovision entries, I am not an expert on everything! So, if there’s any cultural context behind Brunette’s choreo, anyone who knows more than myself is free to let me know!

Whether or not you were wondering, hoping, or jonesing for a dancebreak, we got one! Let’s compare and contrast, shall we? Brunette’s dancebreak is similar to Chanel’s in its location in the song, at about the 3/4ths marker. It contains no lyrics (other than amorphous “Oh-oh’s” we’ve already heard) and served to us by Brunette with a distinct “Stunting on the hoes” vibe from her commanding eye-work and fluidity in her routine. Her moves also bring her from standing positions, down to the floor, and back up by the end, similar to Chanel’s choreo. Taking another page out of the dancebreak handbook, Brunette’s dancebreak was kept a secret until the live performance, which we didn’t see until Eurovision itself as opposed to Spain’s NF. The dancebreaks of each song are even the same length: 8 measures of music/8 counts of 4. Of course we can’t overlook the glaring differences. Noticeably, Brunette is all by herself on stage with her emotional-support ambiguous white panel. No sexy backup dancers are there to lift Brunette off the ground and perform other such tasks that Chanel’s team did for her. Brunette’s dance also does not come after a 2nd chorus; “Future Lover” has a slightly unique form in that the song goes Verse - Chorus - Verse - Dance/Bridge - Final Chorus, so simply there’s no 2nd chorus to be found. In my opinion, putting a dancebreak into a song that already has an unconventional structure and exists in a genre that’s much more ethereal ballad than pop power is a risky move, despite it being an enjoyable dancebreak regardless. Another risk Armenia took was the fact that there’s multiple instances during the dancebreak where the screen goes dark and obscures Brunette’s dancing; something that “SloMo” does not do.

Perhaps this is what kept Armenia away from a higher result overall. Coming 12th and 13th in the jury and televote, respectively, this may not have had the same success as Spain had the year prior because “Future Lover” by all accounts is just so much more unconventional for the choices it’s making. It already exists as a song that’s hard to dance to, and doesn’t seem like it would be enhanced by a dancebreak. This is one of the biggest factors as to what makes this dance creative or copycat: does it enhance the performance in any meaningful way? It’s also very important to note that something doesn’t need to be “necessary” to enhance the act. This is Eurovision, people; if we start asking “But is this necessary?” we’ll undo the very fabric of Eurovision. Australia has a DeLorean on stage, Austria is singing about Edgar Allen Poe, and I have seen more elderly Croatian men in their underwear than I ever anticipated seeing in my life; none of this is “necessary,” and that’s why we love Eurovision. Moving on.

“Future Lover” is a very hard one to decipher. A good result does not make one dancebreak better than the other if we’re just trying to judge the dancebreak itself and how it functions in the song/performance. In the case of Armenia, I would argue Brunette’s dancebreak is a creative interpretation of the SloMo Dancebreak. Nothing about Chanel’s performance felt like it was copy-pasted into “Future Lover,” and Brunette herself is clearly a capable and confident dancer. The song already being unconventional can be a risk to appeal to juries and televoters for different reasons, but that didn’t stop Brunette from adding some creative and unexpected flare to the performance. In my thoughtful opinion, I could’ve seen Armenia finishing Top 10 with juries, but alas, the points given have been given. Ultimately, what I think saves “Future Lover” from being a copycat dancebreak is the fact that it is a song that attempts to create a dancebreak unique to the song and performer; there aren’t many other songs and dancebreaks that sound/look like “Future Lover.”

RESULT: CREATIVE!

PART II: UNICORN

Free Palestine.

Anyway! With the important business out of the way, let’s talk about Israel’s song. And no, I’m not gonna waste your time asking you if “you wanna see me” talk about my Eurovision hyperfixation for another essay. You’re already here, you’re already on part two, I know you wanna see me talk about Eurovision. However, if I were to ask you three times if you wanted to read my article, I wouldn’t be surprised if you just said no. Anyway, I’ll touch on this lil bit soon. Let’s talk about the song!

I need to begin by talking about the musical horse in the room which is the fact that “Unicorn” is clearly three different songs stitched together, three songs I call “DNA,” “Watch Me,” and finally “Unicorn.” These songs exist within three different parts of the song. “DNA” are verses one and two, including the earworm of “Phenomen- Phenomen- Phenomenal.” “Watch Me” is my nicer name for the dancebreak section, as the first draft name “Black Pink Is Calling Their Lawyers” was too wordy. Lastly, “Unicorn” itself exists in the chorus where the lyrical simile of “stand[ing] like a Unicorn” occurs. While the dissection of “Unicorn” could/probably will be an essay all on its own, I promise you this is important. To give you the SparkNotes edition, here’s what makes me think “Unicorn” is three different songs:

Musically: the instrumentation of the verses, choruses, and dancebreak are all almost completely different. The verses have an electronic composition beat with crisp, punchy music that has no connection or transition into the sudden power ballad it becomes in the chorus. This difference is especially jarring considering that “real” instruments are used in the chorus primarily, whereas the verses have some percussive string instruments here and there as embellishments. The dancebreak is the most egregious offense where this sudden electronic build comes out of nowhere and uses a meter/beat that we haven’t yet heard and could not sound more different from the chorus if it tried. The song jumps genres and compositions with no connecting motifs or callbacks.

Lyrically: We start by singing about our DNA and if you’re gonna do it (spoiler: don’t do it). Then we start singing about…unicorns? And how they stand? And the power of said unicorn? My point here being: the lyrics of the verses and the chorus literally have nothing to do with each other. In verses about writing a new book and how phenomenal it will be, we go back to these comparisons to a unicorn that don’t really mean anything. “I got the power of a unicorn.” What “powers” does a unicorn have? Jesus I’m tired.

So what does this have to do with the dancebreak? I’ll finish explaining once we do a quick compare and contrast. These two dancebreaks are more similar than “Future Lover” was to “SloMo.” No main vocals, a small costume change/reveal, lead act supported by attractive and skilled dancers, the hoes and their impending stunting, and many dance moves that involve impressive stretching and posing of various limbs. However, “Unicorn” goes to numerous lengths to differentiate itself from “SloMo” by doing things such as announcing the dancebreak before it begins; again, the offer seems pretty hollow given the fact that you’re probably gonna start dancing even though I’ve given you a clear “NO” in response. The dancebreak also falls at a notably different point in the song: the end! When you look at the time stamps of the song, Noa stops “singing” at 2:15, meaning the last 45 seconds of that 3-minute Eurovision window has her not singing at all. 45 whole seconds! So where the SloMo break lasts 8 counts of 4, “Unicorn” (starting from “Watch me” and not “You wanna see me dance” because, well, she’s not dancing yet) lasts a whopping 16 counts of 4; literally twice as long as the break in “SloMo.” The routine itself, once you’ve watched it upwards of twelve times like I have (because I take my research seriously, dammit!) you begin to notice these dance moves are more akin to…poses?

Roll with me here: the dancebreak starts, Noa hits that impressive backbend into a frontwards drop, bringing her to the stage floor. So naturally, her next set of moves consist of a backwards roll, some yoga-like poses where she continues to impress with her control by lifting her legs and kicking, then whipping her hair in time with the beat of the song. Up to this point, I’m genuinely impressed. Then, she hits what is literally a downward-facing dog position, and then goes back down onto her knees and slides to the floor to do the splits over her own body. So I don’t think it’s totally unreasonable for a viewer to at this point start to think “Yeah this is really cool, but like, there’s not so much dancing going on.” Then once poor Noa is finally allowed to stand upright, her dancers join back in and they perform a series of synchronized moves to the “U-NI-CORN!” blasting into our ears. So why are we suddenly in this new genre with a new rhythm, new instrumentation, and new pacing while Noa performs a series of admittedly challenging moves but are ultimately glorified “poses.” Also: an assisted backflip at the end? Another thing I didn’t ask for.

So as you can see, “Unicorn” is not an easy one to pin down. Going back to my analysis of the song and how disjointed it feels, I think the dancebreak itself is the most alienating way to end this song, especially because we don’t hear Noa sing literally anything else after she starts dancing. The fact that we’ve just dealt with two sets of verses and choruses that sound like two different songs, this Black Pink homage dancebreak looks flashy but doesn’t actually provide character or flavor to the song as a whole. It brings ah flavor, yes, but I don’t know what I’ve been tasting for the last 2 minutes and 15 seconds, I don’t know what I’m tasting now. Therefore, I shall be labeling “Unicorn” as a hybrid creative copycat. It is definitely creative in the sense that it didn’t attempt to do the same exact thing “SloMo” did in terms of execution, song style, dance style, etc etc. However, what makes it also part copycat is the fact that I don’t know why or how this dancebreak even made it into this song. To me, it almost feels as if the dancebreak was something they knew they wanted to do from the beginning, but then wrote a song that didn’t have natural space for a dancebreak. So they then compressed the verses and choruses to the first 2/3rds of the song and slapped the dance in at the end and called it a day. This reads as fairly inauthentic and ill-considered. Compare this to “Future Lover” and how yes, that song also didn’t “need” a dancebreak, but remember: necessity does not dictate something working or not working. “Future Lover” carved out a natural space and time within the song to create a dancebreak that sonically fits in with the rest of the song and provides a solid build of momentum to the final chorus. “Unicorn” and their K-Pop-influenced dance (which was more posing than anything) sticks out like a sore thumb and attempts to distract from that by being incredibly flashy.

RESULT: CREATIVE COPYCAT

Anyway, creative copycat is what I’m stickin’ with. I’ve already wasted enough of my own time listening to and watching this song several times over. Please tell me I don’t have anything worse waiting for me after this song—

PART III: SOLO

Son of a BITCH--

“Solo” is a song. By definition. And I too found myself asking the wrong question of “Why is this dancebreak here? Was it really needed?” a couple times. And in full transparency, yes: Poland is 37th in my ranking of 2023. However! Let the record here and now show that I will attempt to give this dancebreak a fair shot just as I did for the two prior. In fact, let’s start with a guessing game! I’m going to list out some key characteristics about a dancebreak, and it’s up to you to guess if I’m talking about “SloMo” or “Solo”! Ready? Go! GUESS! THAT! DANCEBREAK!

This dancebreak in question starts with a costume change/reveal and the lead performer flips her hair vivaciously. The music of this dancebreak is nearly entirely percussion; drums, rhythmic clapping, and maybe including one or two musical highlights that exist elsewhere in the song. There’s a quick one-two beat where the dancer thrusts a part of her body in time with the beat, the dancebreak lasts for 8 counts of 4, and it ends with the lead performer being handed her mic from a backup dancer. So now you guess: which dancebreak am I talking about?

…Got a guess? WRONG, it’s: both of them. Here’s the thing: initially I was going to start with a compare and contrast list like I’ve been doing, but I quickly realized that this is all “compare” and no “contrast.” The only thing that might noticeably be different is that Blanka is doing significantly less dancing than Chanel was. This is not an attempt to say that Blanka can’t dance or wasn’t dancing at all. I saw her up there in those heels hitting some moves, she definitely danced. But did she stunt on them hoes? While Chanel was going from upright and down to the floor and back up again, Blanka had no moves that were anywhere near as complex or physically demanding as Chanel. Meanwhile, everything else seems lifted right out of “SloMo” and given an off-orange coat of spray paint and messily slapped together. For fuck’s sake, one song is called “SloMo” and the other is “Solo.” The names literally rhyme and use the same letters, minus a singular “M.” I know, I promised I would be fair and objective about this analysis, but I’m also genuinely just working with the information I’ve been given. If I close my eyes and just listen to the dancebreak, it sounds like I’m listening to a demo of “SloMo.” And if I open my eyes to the onslaught of on-screen effects Poland is treating me to, I see what I interpret as an intermediate backup dancer version of “SloMo.” This dancebreak is almost unapologetically a copycat of “SloMo.”

RESULT: COPYCAT

I’m almost sad that this is the shortest section of the three analyses, but sadly it’s just the most obvious offender. I’ll end this section by sharing two things. First: I don’t harbor any hatred or resentment towards Blanka, she’s just a performer doing what I’m sure is her best. My disappointment is at the greater picture of Poland in Eurovision and how I feel they have incredibly unique things to offer, just like they have in the past. We don’t need this kind of thing from Poland or any other country for that matter. Second: in the second verse, I had always heard the lyric “Bet you regret how” as “Bet you’re a Grey Hound” and I didn’t realize that until the writing of this essay. In my defense, the next line goes “What goes around comes around” which actually rhymes. Whereas “how” and “around” are near rhymes, “hound” is a perfect rhyme, that’s all I’m saying.

PART IV: CONCLUSION

So there we have it. Three different dancebreaks, three different results. I think it would be most helpful to end this essay with re-examining why this question of “creative or copycat” exists, specifically in relation to something like the SloMo Dancebreak. Trends and the recreation of them have always been and forever will be core to the essence of Eurovision. In the process of uniting Europe through music and participating in a cultural exchange, countries trying to put their own spin on successful trends will be inevitable. So let this certainty be a reminder that simply trying to emulate a trend or anything of the sort is never an inherently bad thing. It is not something to be looked down upon or just labeled as unoriginal without thought or consideration. Inside every Eurovision song and performance exists artistic value and intention, to varying degrees, and that is what should decide whether emulating a trend is a positive or negative thing.

If I could somehow magically communicate this message to the artists and delegations of not only Armenia/Israel/Poland, but to all Eurovision competitors, it would be this: Following a trend will simply never be enough. What proves most effective is doing something that elevates and enhances the performance. Despite the fact I think Israel’s dancebreak is a “creative copycat,” I also can’t deny that it objectively did its job the best out of the three we’ve discussed here. But this is also another flawed line of thinking: If a song got a good result, that must mean it did everything creatively, right? Not always! One day when I make a “Unicorn” deconstruction essay, I’ll elaborate on my theory that the song did so well because it’s the most “Eurovision Movie”-sounding of all the 2023 songs, but I digress. Until that essay, thank you for joining me in another EuroQuision think piece! Truly hope this one was phenomen- phenomen- phenomenal for you all to read.

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