The Last Dinner Party – ‘Prelude To Ecstasy’ review: flamboyant, fun and totally distinct

30 January, 2024

The Last Dinner Party

If you were looking to understand the appeal of The Last Dinner Party, you could alight on the world which they conjure in their beguiling songs: a cocktail of gothic romance and sparkling opulence. Having been mainstays on the London live circuit following the pandemic, the five-piece swiftly landed a major label deal and have since continued to align their image and artistry, bringing silken ball gowns and a raucous energy to stages the world over. It’s as though they figured where they were going long before they got there.

In the months leading up to their debut LP ‘Prelude To Ecstasy’, their name has echoed around late night chat shows and festival lineups; yet the speed with which the band broke through has led to online discourse around their credentials, not too dissimilar to the conversations that were previously directed towards the rapid arrival of Wet Leg. Arguably, there is now an element of smoke and mirrors around a band whose mission appears to be fairly straightforward: “We imagined the kind of joyful act we’d want to see when we go out, and created our own ‘dream band’ from that,” vocalist Abigail Morris told NME last year.

It’s almost easy to forget that we’re here, primarily, because of one endlessly catchy single. ‘Prelude To Ecstasy’ arrives nearly a year on from ‘Nothing Matters’, the track that launched the band on their dizzying trajectory; in terms of its Roxy Music-like stomp and fatalist lyrics, it serves as their own dark, escapist fantasy. “And you can hold me like he held her / And I will fuck you like nothing matters,” so goes the chorus.

Rendered in strings, groove-flecked guitar passages and twinkling keys, the album’s recurring themes continue to ooze out of every verse: girlhood, regret, intimacy, unsatisfying relationships. It swoops from a cavernous torch song (‘On Your Side’) to visions of hysteria via a plaintive ballad (‘Caesar On The TV Screen’). Slickly arranged as though these tracks are – with James Ford [Arctic Monkeys, Jessie Ware] on production duties – they offer a type of melodrama that doesn’t crop up often in modern mainstream pop.

In fact, when the band dial things down, like on ‘Beautiful Boy’ which peaks almost instantly with a panpipe section, the energy shift is noticeable. ‘Gjuha’, an Albanian-language call to home sung by keyboardist Aurora Nishevci, contains some beautiful, contrasting falsettos but feels out of place within the album’s clear vision. These more muted moments aren’t a slight on ‘Prelude To Ecstasy’ as a whole; if anything, they go to show that the band manage to cram a surplus of ideas into the majority of the material here.

Even at its most overwrought – the rhythmic attack of ‘My Lady Of Mercy’; a chunk of wallowing reverb in ‘Burn Alive’, presumably to evoke misery and displacement – there’s a melodic confidence throughout that’s a rare find in a debut. The Last Dinner Party may have some reverence for their art-rock forebears (think: early Julia Holter or St Vincent), but also enough self-belief and magnetism to set them apart from what’s come before.

Some may choose to posit the band’s success as an antidote to the intense scrutiny – about their rise, appearance and decision to make music without a ‘serious’ intention – they’ve received in their early career. But take all of that away, and you’re still left with fantastic songs that are easy to embrace and return to. It’s hard to miss all the things they’re doing right.