The Last Dinner Party’s regal pop rock packs more punch on ‘From The Pyre’
‘From The Pyre’ sees The Last Dinner Party try and establish their name in contemporary rock.
Photo: Rachell Smith
From breakthrough stardom following the release of debut single Nothing Matters to top billings on festival lineups, The Last Dinner Party ensure their return with From The Pyre packs the same punch and memorability as debut Prelude to Ecstasy.
The female five-piece, led by Abigail Morris, gained attention from critics with their unique take on art rock, breathing new life into the Kate Bush-esque theatrical vocals and ornate instrumentation. Arriving just a year after their debut, From The Pyre sees the band play to their strengths, maintaining the same drama of their early sound whilst widening their creative lens with lyricism of metaphorical imagery and symbolism, painting the band’s post-fame journey. It’s a record that reflects not only The Last Dinner Party’s evolving artistry but also their realisation of the aftermath of overnight success.
The opener, Agnus Dei, serves as the prologue that breaks the mould of doubt within. The Last Dinner Party prove themselves again, with its exceeding five-minute run-time condensing chaos into one beautifully crafted track. The band wastes no time easing fans back into their distinctive style, combining Morris’ signature elongated theatrical vocals alongside these driving drums that structure the track’s climax of a guitar solo.
Agnus Dei explores Morris’ speculation of love now that she’s entrapped under the impermanence of this so-called ‘desired’ rock ‘n’ roll lifestyle. This state of fame has seemingly stumped Morris’ view on relationships as her esteem can only promise partners one form of fulfilment: “All I can give you is your name in lights forever / And ain’t that so much better than a ring on my finger.” Yet a desire to offer more lingers; Morris struggles with her inability to provide dependability for her partners and questions her self-worth with the lyrics: “Am I enough to make you stay?”. The song’s title, Agnus Dei, literally translates to a sacrament of devotion, emulating Morris’s willingness to reclaim the sense of connection she craves.
With Count The Ways, Morris delves into the storminess of romance, confessing the chaos and intrusion that love can bring: “You break into my house, I break into your house.” Contrasting jagged riffs with elegant strings and sustained, theatrical vocal lines, the band fuses raw intensity with the surreal soundscapes that are at once dramatic and intimate.
On Second Best, the narrative shifts to the sting of rejection and the feeling of being sidelined by a lover. Now liberated, Morris delivers a sharp, vengeful twist, taunting her former partner with the biting refrain: “Ain’t it nice, second best” — turning the tables and giving them a taste of their own medicine.
The comeback single, This is the Killer Speaking, solidifies the record’s phenomenally strong opening quartet, immediately setting the bar for what’s to come. Set as a murderous confession about being ghosted, This is the Killer Speaking settles the tense balance between one’s hatred and vulnerability for another. There’s a real sense of emotion and bite in Morris’ vocals throughout the restrained verses, before the infectious cult-like chanting of: “Here comes the killer” in the chorus. It’s a track that captures the band’s talent for turning raw turmoil into something rather anthemic.
Past the A-side of the record, the tracks take a slower and more introspective turn, allowing the midsection of From The Pyre to breathe emotionally. Whilst noticeable tracks like Rifle and The Scythe show success in this approach, it occasionally loses some of the thrilling momentum built by its earlier tracks.
I Hold Your Anger and Woman is a Tree embody the dynamic softness the band can show; these songs ultimately fall short of being truly memorable, with circling melodies that verge on the sense of being one-tone. However, in these moments, The Last Dinner Party can really show their speciality with The Scythe being the record’s defining track.
The Scythe meditates on grief and the intertwined nature of loss and heartbreak, using its title and imagery to symbolise the inevitability of death. Originally written about a teenage breakup, frontwoman Morris later reflected that the song revealed a deeper resonance after her father’s passing: “Don’t cry, we’re bound together / Each life runs its course / I’ll see you in the next one.” It comes from a state of melancholy, mixing elements of gothic rock and pure emotion into one unforgettable chorus that transcends its origin into a pain that’s universally felt.
From The Pyre stands as a bold follow-up, one that both refines and expands on The Last Dinner Party’s sound. From a triumphant opening run of tracks to a slower midsection, From The Pyre showcases the band’s ambition and theatrical flair at its best. Whilst some stand out as less immediate than others, patience rewards the slow burners of the record, with each shrouded in metaphorical poetics and lyricism that continue to unfold separate stories with each listen.
Nothing can doubt the immaculate production throughout, balancing crisp instrumentation with the spontaneity of what feels like a live show. Arriving barely a year after their critically acclaimed debut, From The Pyre stands tall among its predecessor, feeling like a statement of intent with a band determined to prove that they are far more than a fleeting success. This is the sound of The Last Dinner Party cementing themselves as one of the most exciting, visionary acts in modern art-rock.
From The Pyre is out now via Universal Music.