The Last Dinner Party are feasting on love, death and killer riffs

If you are one of those who gets lost in the album, The Last Dinner Party has a treat for you.

On their second album, From The Pyre, the last note of the last song flows perfectly into the opening notes of the first. They’re even in the same key (F major, musicology fans).

When you listen on loop, it draws you deeper into the vortex of dreams, nightmares, sex and death.

“It wasn’t intentional, but it’s really cool,” guitarist Emily Roberts says when this is pointed out to her. “Maybe that’s why these songs were subconsciously added to the album.”

As the name suggests, From The Pyre is darker, dirtier and more gothically grandiose than their critically acclaimed debut, Prelude To Ecstasy.

“I felt like there were no limits to what we could do, whether it was a really long guitar solo or something inspired by a Bulgarian folk choir,” says Davies.

Singer Abigail Morris agrees: “Trust is the word we throw away when we write.” “We had developed as musicians and writers and wanted to be challenged.”

The London-based quintet have every right to be confident. The Last Supper Party signed with Island Records in 2022, based on an amateur video of their fourth concert.

They soon took over the airwaves with their first single, Nothing Matters: a sexually liberating rock anthem faster than a shot of vodka on an empty stomach.

Afterwards Winning the BBC’s Voice of 2024 awardThey topped the album charts, sold out three nights at London’s Hammersmith Apollo and cemented their success by winning best newcomer at the Brit Awards.

Performing at the ceremony, organizers wanted Emily to come down from the rafters and play the guitar solo from Nothing Matters “like a godmother coming down in a balloon” from David Lynch’s Wild At Heart.

“Unfortunately, our time is up,” laughs the guitarist.

Time is not a commodity that the band enjoys abundantly. Since 2023, they have performed 214 concerts, shot a short film and had a front-row seat at Paris Fashion Week. So when did they write their second album?

“We had four months at the beginning of this year where we didn’t play any gigs,” says bassist Georgia Davies, “so we were recording at the time.”

“But people say, ‘When did you write the album?’ “The answer is basically Christmas.”

But Abigail says that doesn’t give the whole picture.

Some of the songs on From The Pyre have been “in the dressing bin, waiting to be released” since the band formed in 2021.

ScytheReleased as the album’s second single, the gloriously wounded ballad goes back even further.

“I wrote the chorus when I was 16 or 17,” says Abigail.

“I knew it was really good, but the rest of the song wasn’t right, so I benched it until the right time.”

Abigail originally wrote The Scythe about a teenage breakup. However, when his sister heard it and commented on the lyrics, he realized it was really a reflection on death.

“My father passed away when I was a teenager,” she says, “and that kind of loss takes a long time to recognize—even when we’re in therapy and talking about it.”

He resisted the temptation to make the lyrics more overtly autobiographical, considering grief and heartache to be inherently linked.

“In my experience, when you go through a major heartbreak, it’s the exact same bodily response as someone dying, and I think it’s really crazy. Your body doesn’t know the difference. And I think that’s really interesting to write about in a song.”

I think maybe that connection is especially strong for someone who lost a parent at a young age. Each subsequent loss is refracted through this lens.

“Yes, the body keeps score,” he agrees.

“I think if you experience trauma in your childhood or adolescence, it takes a really long time to repair that. You may feel good and well-adjusted and able to get through life, but you don’t respond to things the same way as someone who hasn’t had those experiences. It’s all stored at the molecular level.”

As The Scythe demonstrates, From The Pyre is a deeply personal album; although the group tends to create its own mythology and dress up its stories in flashy, theatrical outfits.

This is a trait Abigail explores in the opening piece, Agnus Dei; It depicts one of his ex-lovers as a celestial ghost descending from the clouds onto London Bridge.

“All I can give you is your name in light forever/ And isn’t that better/ Than a ring on my finger?”” he mutters, suggesting that immortalization through song is far preferable to ordinary (ahhh!) devotion.

“When you put someone in a song, when you make someone a muse, what does that do to them?” he asks. “Is it a gift or a curse to make someone live forever with a song?”

“In a way, mythologizing [the relationship] It is a way to keep the situation under control by turning it into something fictional.

“And the more you do it, the further away it gets from reality. The details become blurry. You can’t remember what’s real and what’s a fairy tale.”

So is the singer this melodramatic in her real-life relationships?

“Oh! No…Ah!he replies, his laughter ripening into sarcasm as his bandmates hastily say “no comment.”

But what makes The Last Supper Party so compelling is the melodrama.

Each song bubbles and bubbles with possibilities; whether it’s the sharp guitar riffs that suddenly appear on Second Best or Abi’s brutal insults (““Your kindness went no further than frying.”) inside This Killer Speaks.

Woman Is A Tree opens with discordant harmonies inspired by the cult horror series Yellowjackets; The Rifles gradually pick up the pace as they sing the anti-war anthem.

The song, written by Georgia, was originally about the futility of war, but gained renewed urgency after Israel launched a military operation in Gaza; It’s a topic the band is passionately outspoken about.

They described Israel’s campaign as “inexcusable”; and withdrew from Portsmouth’s Victorious Festival after another band joined. He was silenced for unfurling the Palestinian flag On stage.

Regarding the decision, Georgia said the band could not condone “singing Nothing Matters and dancing with our clothes on in a place where the flag is seen as an act of political violence.”

“I’m so proud of us [pulled out]”Because obviously it was a financial loss and a huge disappointment to people, but it was absolutely the right thing to do.”

When we spend time with The Last Supper Party, it’s clear that they are in perfect harmony on this issue, as on everything else.

Unlike many groups, there is no power imbalance, no domineering personality draining the oxygen. They are a gang, a force to be reckoned with.

Everyone contributes musically, with keyboardist Aurora Nischevi leading all orchestral arrangements and Emily, who has a first-class jazz degree from the Guildhall School, “contributing musically”.indie guitar hero“for him”poisonous solos” And “perfectly judged riffs“.

“I don’t know about that,” she blushes. “Can you send me some of these articles?”

From The Pyre has already received four- and five-star reviews featuring 10 songs” adding a sinister tone to extravagant theatrical performances“It’s up to them”your peers sound indifferent [and] uninspired“.

The songs are constantly changing and often last longer than five minutes, an implicit rejection of TikTok virality.

“Two minutes isn’t long enough,” Emily objects.

“There are five of us. We each want to put our own stamp on the song. We love contrast and dramatic setups in our songs. We couldn’t do it in two minutes. It wouldn’t work.”

And they promise there’s more to come.

“We have a Google Drive with a folder that just says ‘Ideas,’” says Abigail.

“And full.”