The Disco Revolution Is Back – Just in Time for Eurovision Season

A column for the lover of glitter and genuine emotion

There's something magical about March. Spring announces itself, terraces dare to open again, and the music world seems to collectively decide that it's time for joy.

Let's be honest: we've earned it. After months of sober playlists and contemplative singer-songwriters telling us about their "inner journey" (read: break-up with their therapist), the spring of 2026 explodes with something no one expected: the return of the disco ball.

Harry Styles, that British guy with the curls who looks like he just stepped out of a seventies romantic comedy, is changing course. No more thoughtful folk, no introspective ballads about fish dishes – no, with "Kiss All The Time. Disco, Occasionally" he drags us onto the dance floor as if his life depends on it. And I have to say: it works.

There's something unparalleled about an artist who, four years after a Grammy-winning album, decides that life is too short for more navel-gazing. "Aperture" and "American Girls" aren't songs for your headphones on a rainy Sunday afternoon. These are tracks for your bike ride to work, hands loosely on the handlebars, sunglasses on, as if you're the star of your own feel-good movie.

🎵 Eurovision season is upon us

And what is the Song Contest if not the ultimate celebration of musical joy, glitter bombs, and national pride packed into three minutes of pop? In May, the circus descends upon Vienna – not Rotterdam as we hoped, but the Austrians know how to throw a party too.

What fascinates me is the parallel between these two worlds. Harry Styles kicks open the door to a time when dancing wasn't a shame, when a song simply had to swing. And simultaneously, we see Eurovision returning to its roots: pure, unadulterated entertainment.

The Nostalgia Factor

Take Estonia, sending Vanilla Ninja back to the stage this year. Yes, that Vanilla Ninja. It's as if 2005 suddenly became cool again, and honestly? I'm here for it. Sometimes life just needs a well-executed girl group with guitar riffs, not complicated concept albums about the universe.

Or look at Germany, coming with Sarah Engels – a name that sounds like someone who knows exactly how to write a chorus that sticks in your head after one listen. "Fire," the song is called. Subtle it is not, but subtle isn't what we want in May.

And then there's Senhit for San Marino, with "Superstar." Boy George is involved – uncredited, but present. It's as if the eighties and nineties are having a reunion in Vienna, and we're all invited.

"But here's the kicker: disco and Eurovision share a secret. Both are often dismissed as 'fleeting,' as 'superficial,' as music that doesn't 'grow with you.' And that's exactly where they miss the mark."

Because there's a reason why, when the days get longer and the air feels warmer, we instinctively reach for music that makes us move. It's no coincidence that Harry Styles is releasing a disco record now, in March. It's no coincidence that Eurovision takes place in May, when Europe collectively awakens from its winter depression.

This music – whether it's the glittering production of Bebe Rexha's "New Religion" (a nod to Faithless' "Insomnia," for those who appreciate the classics), or the cosmic sounds of Croatia's "Andromeda" – serves a higher purpose. It reminds us that music is a social experience, not just an auditory one.

A Rebellious Act

In a time when we often consume our streaming playlists solitarily, with earbuds in on a crowded train, there's something rebellious about the idea of music that forces you to come together. Disco was once the soundtrack of underground clubs where diversity was the norm. Eurovision is, despite all the political quarrels and boycots this year, still that rare moment when all of Europe looks at the same screen simultaneously.

Leave that "chill study beats" playlist for what it is. Put Harry Styles' new record on when you come home from work and dance through your living room as if no one's watching – or as if everyone is watching, which is even more fun. Organize a Eurovision viewing party on May 12, 14, and 16, complete with scorecards and over-the-top commentary on the outfits.

Because the truth is: we don't need more sober, minimalist indie. We need confetti. We need choirs. We need that feeling of "who cares, it's Friday night and I feel fantastic."

The disco balls are spinning again. Eurovision season is officially open.