Welcome to Aaron Manky's Cabinet of Curiosities, a production of I Heart Radio and

Grim and Mild. Our world is full of the unexplainable. And if history is an open book, all of these

amazing tales are right there on display, just waiting for us to explore.

Welcome to the Cabinet of Curiosities. For decades now, now the Eurovision song contest has reigned supreme as the single

greatest event for fans of international pop music.

Each year participating countries select a single act and song to represent them for the

grand prize. It's one part Battle of the Bands, one part Olympics, and it's gained a reputation for a spirit of no holds barred goofiness.

Musicians perform elaborate dances while dressed as everything from insects and astronauts to flight

attendance and fantasy creatures. But while the spirit of fun is palpable

the contest is serious business. Eurovision can make or break artists,

catapulting them on a trajectory to either superstardom or obscurity.

And in 1974, one competition piece made history in a way that no one saw coming. The song was called

and after the farewell performed by the Portuguese artist Paulo de Carvalio. His

music was light innocent, optimistic, and upbeat,

qualities that helped it strike a chord

with the Portuguese people.

Not because their lives were all sunshine and roses,

but because they weren't.

For the previous four decades, Portugal had struggled under the thumb of an authoritarian

dictatorship.

Any dissent against the government was illegal, and citizens lived in constant fear of the secret police.

In this tense atmosphere, Carvalho's music offered an escape from the tension of everyday life.

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