The Lush Decadence of The Last Dinner Party's 'Prelude to Ecstasy'

Photo by Cal McIntyre

If you take the love child of Florence Welch and Lucy Gray Baird, add in a dash of Chappell Roan’s colorful indulgence and a callback to the eclectic palace in Disney’s Beauty and the Beast, you’d end up with a band like London’s The Last Dinner Party. But to compare the 2024 Brits’ Rising Star so blatantly to other artists—fictional or not—would be a disservice to the sheer creativity and innovation of their music. Their debut album, Prelude to Ecstasy, released today under Island Records, is a renaissance of grandeur pop music, with strong narratives and an invigorating sound infused with gothic influences and dark romantics. It’s refreshing not only to hear an adventurous debut, but to see that adventure shine through on the stage. Pairing their rich sound with an even grander image, videos of them parading the stage in silk ball gowns, embellished ruffles, and bright puff-sleeves with rambunctious energy have flooded TikTok since the fall, when they opened for Hozier on his UK tour. 

It’s hard to believe this is only a debut LP, as the band––comprised of Abigail Morris (vocals), Aurora Nishevci (keys), Emily Roberts (lead guitar/flute), Georgia Davies (bass) and Lizzie Mayland (guitar)––already seems so sure of their image, making their official entrance in the music scene an undoubtedly bold one. 

In the months leading up to the LP’s release, the band has already been dazzling screens with late night television performances, and circulating online via TikTok, festival lineup drops, and a US tour announcement. Accusations of being an “industry plant” popped up alongside online discourse questioning their grit and talent, but this has been swiftly responded to with public adoration by their listeners and statements from the band. A newer trend has populated the app––women dancing carelessly and passionately around their rooms and kitchens to the band’s hit single “Nothing Matters” (which, just watching, brings me joy, because what’s better than women responding to criticism of other talented women than by embracing that talent?). Their virality came at the right time, too, with recent developments of UMG controversially removing their artists’ catalogs from TikTok.

On par with their risk taking attitude and literary influences, the album kicks off with a classical overture, allowing listeners to feel as though they were being seated for a Shakespearean tragedy. The album takes a sharp turn by track two, introducing harsh synth beats and new wave vocals. “Burn Alive” sets the pattern for the rest of the album––haunting, melodic verses with declarative eruptions are sprinkled throughout. In the chorus, Morris proclaims: “I am not the girl I set out to be / Let me make my grief a commodity. / There is candle wax melting in my veins / So I keep myself standing in your flames / Burn, burn me alive.” 

“Caesar on a TV Screen” is one of the more theatrical songs on the album, which was fittingly released as a single on January 4. It explores the deeper end of Morris’ vocal range, resonating like a low chant on the chorus. This is carried into “The Feminine Urge,” a phrase that could encapsulate much of the album’s message and is echoed by the biting lyrics, “Do you feel like a man when I can’t talk back? Do you want me or do you want control? Failure to commit to the rule and fit was a failure you achieved on your own.” Morris continues with vivid imagery, “Give me that dark red liquor stretched out on the rocks / All the poison I convert it and I turn it to love / Here comes a feminine urge / I know it so well / To nurture the wounds my mother held.” 

The album’s emotional climax comes at the tenth track, “Portrait of a Dead Girl,” which opens with the cutting lyric: “When you laid like a wolf, with your head on my lap, I felt like one of those portraits of women protected by a beast on a chain.” The song starts slow and enticing, before continuing the beast analogy with force: “I wish you had given me the courtesy of ripping out my throat [...] And I wish that I had the guts, the dignity to put up a fight.” The song diverts from previous themes while staying within the same narrative––in contrast to songs like “On Your Side,” which hold proclamations of devotion to her lover (however regretful those ‘4am visits’ are),  “Portrait of a Dead Girl” ends in a reclamation of power. Morris sings, “I'd kiss your eyes and frame your teeth / As you crawl back to the sea / Oh, anyone could kill me / And I'd never ever let it be you,” followed by an echoing series of “Give me the strength” that is sonically resonant to a gospel. 

“Portrait of a Dead Girl” bleeds into “Nothing Matters,” the album’s most widely recognized single, allowing listeners to shake off the intensity of previous songs, basking in the fact that nothing matters, unless you let it. Musically, the song scratches an itch in my brain with flamboyant, alt-rock drums and guitar riffs. The absurd relatability has turned the song into a quick fan favorite. Lyrics like “'Cause we’re a lot alike, in favour, like a motorbike / A sailor and a nightingale dancing in convertibles” have led to Wet Leg comparisons, who similarly received criticism for odd lyricism and breakout stardom. The catchy chorus rings, “And you can hold me like he held her / And I will fuck you like nothing matters.” 

The album culminates, similar to a play, with a theatrical conclusion on “Mirror,” slowing the tempo back down and integrating dramatic drum beats and deep vocals that alternate between soft whispers and hurled prowls. 

The Last Dinner Party has truly stunned with a genuinely refreshing, polished debut. It has a messiness that warrants embrace, is lyrically innovative, and sonically immersive. It’s hard to predict where they’ll go next––if they’ll lean into their theatrics, bringing in more gothic poetry and dark romantics––or steer in another direction aesthetically. In the meantime, I plan to bask in this album, and hopefully hear the tracks live when they hit US cities this spring. 

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