How to Turn Eurovision into a Career Launchpad
Eurovision is watched by over 160 million people. That’s more than the Super Bowl. It’s an incredible moment, but without a proper plan, most artists miss the opportunity to build something from it.
And that’s not a criticism. Eurovision isn’t structured like a traditional industry event. It’s a joyful, chaotic, high-stakes TV show and then suddenly it’s over. Unless you’re ready in advance, it’s very easy for all the attention to fade before anything lasting happens. Psychologically, it must be a mind fuck to feel that level of global attention, and then watch it vanish in the space of 24 hours.
But with the right team, a clear strategy and a few smart decisions, it can absolutely be a launchpad. I’ve seen artists use it to reposition themselves, reach new markets, and completely change their public profile. It just needs to be treated as step one, not the end goal.
The UK’s Weird Relationship With Eurovision
In the UK, we don’t exactly get excited about Eurovision. Until recently, even the semi-finals weren’t aired on BBC One. The artist representing the UK is usually someone we’ve never heard of. Most of the time it feels like a label push for an act they’re struggling with.
Even in my own experience working with record labels, it’s not unusual for them to push me to explore promo/collabs for an artist I’ve never come across before. That artist mentioned in every meeting, the label, desperate for any opportunity and then months later, that same artist is announced as our Eurovision entry. It’s happened more than once. And it tells you a lot about how the UK treats it.
That said, I personally enjoy watching the Eurovision final. Flying the Flag is still a banger. And my favourite of all time is Verka Serduchka, an artist dressed in what looked like tin foil, sprinting around stage with “69” on their back.
But to be honest, while some people do watch it, it’s not taken very seriously here. It’s more of a background laugh or an excuse to have drinks with friends, not something people get truly invested in. I have a vivid memory of me and my friends cheering every time the UK got nil poi… which, to be fair, was most votes. There’s no real build-up here, no passion or sense of national pride behind it. And unless you happen to catch the morning breakfast shows the next day, you could quite easily miss that it even happened. The promo around it is minimal, and most people I know wouldn’t be able to name the artist who’s representing us until the night itself when they appear on the tv.
That doesn’t mean it can’t be useful. Sam Ryder is a great recent example of someone who made it work. He had incredible vocals, a clear identity, warmth, and a label that supported him after the show. But he’s the exception.
The Politics Have Made Things Ugly
Eurovision has always had a pretty comedic political undercurrent, we used to watch it and guess (correctly most the time) which countries would vote for each other. But this year’s situation with Israel has gone far beyond friendly alliances.
In 2024, there were protests outside the arena, unrest backstage, and visible efforts to quiet the conversation. This year, the European Broadcasting Union (EBU) seems desperate to avoid a repeat of that backlash. All non-national flags were banned, the tone has been tightly controlled, and there’s an unspoken pressure to not stir the waters.
From a PR perspective, I’d be pulling my hair out. You cannot present Eurovision as a joyous, unifying, light-hearted spectacle while simultaneously tiptoeing around one of the most divisive global conflicts of our time, especially when your headline sponsor is an Israeli brand.
And the EBU’s official reasoning is live on their site. I’ve attached their response below, which states:
“As a non-political organization, the EBU’s role is to support public service broadcasters throughout Europe and the Middle East. The Israel public service broadcaster has been a member of the EBU for over 60 years. The Russian public service broadcasters had their EBU members suspended in 2022 due to consistent breaches of membership obligations and the violation of public service media values.”
In PR, we call a response like this: technically correct, strategically pointless.
It’s a textbook example of language designed to sound neutral, while actually avoiding the issue entirely. The public isn’t debating whether Israel is technically a member. They’re asking why Eurovision continues to include a state under serious international scrutiny, while banning another under the banner of moral obligation.
The EBU claims Russia’s broadcasters were suspended for “consistent breaches of membership obligations” which, in real terms, means pushing government propaganda, failing to remain editorially independent, and violating public service values. No argument there.
But similar criticisms have been levelled at Israel’s public broadcaster, and more. Israel has been accused of blocking humanitarian aid, targeting civilian infrastructure, and controlling media narratives. The UN has stated that Israel’s actions could amount to war crimes and warned of “plausible genocide.”
And still, Israel remains in the contest.
Russia was banned, but it wasn’t just an EBU decision. It followed mounting pressure from multiple European broadcasters. That same pressure hasn’t happened this time. Most likely because broadcasters don’t want to publicly challenge their own government’s political stance on Israel. That silence is being mistaken for unity, but it’s not.
So when the EBU says it’s non-political, it just doesn’t land. Their silence on Israel’s conduct, contrasted with their swift and principled removal of Russia, doesn’t feel like impartiality. It feels like selective enforcement, one that happens to align with financial and diplomatic convenience. And when your lead sponsor is an Israeli brand, neutrality becomes nearly impossible to believe.
For a show built on joy, togetherness and unity, the message coming through is inconsistency. And from a reputational standpoint, that’s worse than picking a side. Because the public will always spot the gap between what you say and what you do.
And right now? The EBU’s actions are saying far more than their words ever could.
I also feel for the artists and their teams. Most of them are here because they genuinely love Eurovision and want to enjoy the experience. Instead, they’re arriving as singers but expected to be as PR-trained as politicians, just in case they’re asked about incredibly complex topics far beyond anything they should be responsible for answering. They’re not spokespeople. They’re here to perform.
If I Were Managing a Eurovision Act
There’s a pattern to the acts who break through after Eurovision, and it’s rarely just about the song. The ones who go on to build real careers almost always have one thing in common: a brilliant team, all aligned, and a strategy that treats Eurovision as the start of something, not the finish line.
It’s about understanding the scale of the moment and going in with the right mindset. The exposure is huge. The workload is intense. And the pressure hits fast. If I were managing someone through it, here’s exactly how I’d personally handle it, from a strategy, preparation and PR point of view.
Step one: before the show
Meet with the delegation. That includes PR, styling, management, social teams, producers, songwriters, the country’s broadcaster, and the person overseeing staging. Everyone needs to be aligned on visuals, tone, performance narrative, and how the artist is going to come across on multiple platforms and cultures.
Finalise a post-show single. It should be written, recorded, mastered, artworked, video shot, press pack ready and before the live show even airs. You usually get around seven days after a big TV moment before interest starts to drop.
Agree a full rollout plan: before, during, and after Eurovision. Include contingencies based on final placing and press sentiment.
Develop press stories that have nothing to do with the scoreboard. You don’t want the narrative to be “they came 18th and vanished.” It should be “this is someone you need to watch regardless.”
Check in on the artist. For many, this is their first experience of international press, fans, pressure and exposure at this scale. Making sure they’re mentally supported is essential, it’s a huge adjustment.
Get the wardrobe right. Every outfit worn on or off stage should be flattering, recognisable, and globally suitable. Strong styling doesn’t just sell an image, it creates memory. Visual consistency builds familiarity, which helps audiences form quicker emotional connection.
Step two: during the show
Stay visible. Post daily content, backstage, hotel room chats, reactions to rehearsals and make it feel human. Don’t rely on the official channels to build your narrative.
Push outside the Eurovision bubble. Use the moment to break into music culture platforms, local media, brand partnerships, or online communities linked to their personal identity.
Lean into what makes them unique. If they’re self-produced, neurodivergent, multilingual, LGBTQI, or have an unconventional entry into music, highlight it. It gives people something to connect with beyond “they’re the one who did Eurovision.”
Avoid the trap of becoming someone who only performs at Eurovision-linked events. That’s great if it’s the goal, but most acts dream bigger. Diversifying your visibility in real time helps protect the path ahead.
Because the goal isn’t to become a “Eurovision artist”. The goal is to become the artist, someone the public relates to, invests in, and listens to beyond the stage.
The moment people are surprised to learn that the artist they enjoy listening to came from Eurovision, you’ve done your job right.
Step three: after the show
Drop the single immediately. Don’t tease it. Don’t stall. It should already be in pre-release momentum by the time voting opens.
Keep them in the press cycle. Book interviews and appearances with or without the win. If you only chase PR after a great result, you’ve already lost time.
Think long-term credibility. Tour? What’s the visual identity? What platform do you want to push hardest, TikTok? Spotify? TV? Build around it now.
PR training is essential, especially for artists not speaking in their native language. Not to flatten their personality, but to enhance it. I work with clients on how to shift their tone depending on region. In the UK, overly floaty, vague and rambling answers don’t land well, we respond better to dry humour, relatability and wit. In other markets, that soft floaty tone might be exactly right. It’s about reading the room, not rewriting yourself.
Eurovision interviews often take place between two people who don’t speak English natively, and still, that’s the language being used. That’s a huge amount of pressure. The more prepared someone is for that, the more confident and relatable they’ll come across.
Eurovision is still brilliant. It’s bizarre, joyful, theatrical, political, nostalgic and full of spectacle. But it’s also a one-night moment, and if you want it to last, you need to know how to use it.
Start early. Plan everything. Keep building after the cameras stop.
And yes, having a very, very good PR helps too.