Folkfest or mass psychosis, yes - call it what you will, but it's back.

After several years of the pandemic, Melodifestivalen is now back on tour through Sweden, and it shows.

Not least on the audience - who during the evening's first competition in Gothenburg showed that schlager works best in interaction with an audience.

Magic just doesn't happen the same way in an empty arena.

There was something to cheer about during the evening's competition, even if the audience seemed a little shy at first.

The starting field of artists was like a really good mixed bag of loose candy, on stage completely new faces were combined in these contexts with experienced schlager foxes.

A well-known face was Tone Sekelius who dared a little more than the last time she competed, Sweden's new mello-queen offered a stable delivery with unfortunately a slightly sleepy song, but it was enough all the way to the final.

"All the songs are about the same thing"

Mello king Jon Henrik Fjällgren appeared in an unexpected trio.

Together with Arc North and Adam Woods, the trio offered electronic pop music, and somewhere this number rings the whole competition – a folk party in representation.

That applied to both the music and the people.

Everyone was going.

In terms of text, however, one theme dominated.

All the songs were about the same thing – namely *drum roll* love.

Victor Crone and Rejhan sang about romantic love, Elov & Beny, Loulou Lamotte and Tone Sekelius sang about loving yourself while Ewa Roos and Eva Rydberg sang about the love of life.

Emotional?

Perhaps.

Unusual?

Absolutely not.

Suitable?

Yes, in these times of crisis, we can treat ourselves to pay tribute to the most basic.

To love.

But it's a bit boring.

"Stable like no other"

Speaking of newfound love.

Swedes can't seem to get enough of epa-dunk.

Now the phenomenon has also infiltrated the Melodifestivalen, which feels like a natural step for the genre that thundered out of nowhere into the top charts last year.

Elov & Beny's "Raggen går" drills into the skull and builds a nest there.

Yes, there is a chance, or depending on how you look at it: a risk, that the epa can will represent Sweden in the Eurovision Song Contest 2023.

The presenters then?

Did Farah Abadi measure up when she now stepped up in rank from sidekick to host of Melodifestivalen itself.

Stable like no other, she steered the ship into port, but a real show needs an unstable moment to get that nerve.

Lucky then that Abadi has an even more lively personality by her side in the form of comedian Jesper Rönndahl, who stirred the pot.

Half-naked balloon dance

The dialect jokes didn't quite fly.

Was that even the point?

Could 2023 be the year we stop joking that Gothenburg is the capital of puns.

Then there was that thing with the balloon.

What does Rönndahl really want to say with his half-naked balloon dance.

Is he born again?

Is Melodifestivalen reborn?

Is it a comment on the tough years without an audience.

The number leaves behind a smile, and a puzzlement.

The whole thing can be summed up with tonight's Gothenburg version of Karin Boye's poem:

"Yes, of course it hurts when buds break."