Any shame he had stayed just down the street from the Bowery Ballroom last fall the last supper Frontwoman Abigail Morris twirled around the stage like a sassy toddler at a wedding reception, her dresses trying to follow her as she swooned.
“And I'll fuck you like nothing matters,” the audience boasted in unison as the London-based indie-rock band played their debut single, “Nothing matters,” an irrepressible ode to the wildness of love and good, old-fashioned fornication. Alongside Morris were Lizzie Mayland on rhythm guitar, a frosted baseball cap on their heads, and Emily Roberts, the band's other guitarist, tearing through lace. Alongside them was Georgia Davies on bass and a sequined Aurora Nishevci on keyboards. The song marked the end of an encore, but the hundreds cheering along didn't seem at all ready to go home.
Last Dinner Party sold out all the shows on their first US tour with shows like this one. It's a band that evokes girlhood — for better and definitely for worse. Even in the satin ribbon that hangs from the neck of Davies' guitar, they bring to mind the youthful impetuosity before “the man” tries to tell you who you are and resistance to that message after he does. On stage, they are loved because they do away with decoration. Off, I had to reprimanding male misogyny which are missing it in their reports. Such is life when you dare to wear a corset and refuse to shut up, even in 2024. Luckily, they have each other.
“You feel this kind of safety when you play in a band like this because, onstage and offstage, we're so close,” Morris tells Zoom weeks after the show. “What's key is that none of us act. None of us are characters. We're just having fun, really.”
It's been less than three years since The Last Dinner Party formed and began performing as a five-piece. Fate brought Morris, Mayland and Davies together just before they started classes at King's College and the three 18-year-olds quickly bonded over going to other artists' concerts together. A little later, Roberts and Nisevtsi arrived at the scene. Less than a year after playing their first live gig at the George Tavern in November 2021, they opened for the Rolling Stones in Hyde Park. a year later, they returned there to open for Lana Del Rey. They've also packed stages at Glastonbury and Reading and Leeds with just three released songs under their belt (or petticoats).
The runaway success of Last Dinner Party in the UK naturally created rumors that “factories of industry”, an idea they have dismissed as “an ugly lie”. The answer to how they got so far so fast is much simpler: a bit of luck, a lot of talent and training and countless nights at their local pub.
However, even the band is surprised by how quickly their audience has grown. “It's the most unnatural thing to happen,” says Mayland. “It's scary, but because there are five of us, it's less scary. I think if we were solo artists we'd be broke by now. But we've gone crazy together.”
“There's a lot of things in this job… a lot of meetings and discussions and a lot of things that we do apart from playing on stage,” adds Davies. “But this is a place where we have full creative control. We're the ones dancing around.”
Their debut LP, Prelude to Ecstasycontains songs like “Sinner” and “Lady of Mercy” that reckon with religious guilt and desire (for both Joan of Arc and “the girl standing by [you] in the school choir“). While “Big Dog” is a big, braggadocio statement in which the bandmates confide that they hope Snoop Dogg will one day make an appearance. Their fifth single, “Caesar on a TV Screen,” cleverly imagines a distinctly masculine delusion (“When I wear this suit, I don't have to be mute/I can talk all the time, 'cause my shoulders are broad” ). In the video, the band donned gold leaf breastplates and crowns to impersonate Shakespeare.
“Mirror,” however, is currently Morris' favorite. “I'm just a mirror/I don't exist without your gaze,” he croons to a lover. That's one way Last Dinner Party differs from many of its peers: They don't dwell on the female experience, from rage to reclaiming sexuality and identity, so much as reflect it as it is.
The complex's aesthetic – influenced by Vivienne Westwood, Chloë Sevigny and, one might gather, a lot of stained glass church windows – offers a lot to say. Fishnets and fluffy socks are complemented by ethereal lace separates and leather. It's a look that's both high-woman and no-fuss, which matches the music they make. There's really only one place to get inspiration for this particular blend of coquetry, baroque maximalism and Glastonbury circa 2007.
“Tumblr,” Morris blurts out when I ask where they draw from. “Lots of artists like Florence & the Machine, David Bowie, Queen.”
The members of Last Dinner Party are still figuring out their identity as individuals, as a band. They have a lot to say about their politics and experience in the industry. But when it comes to expressing these views outside of music, they are more demanding.
“It's not intentional so far, as I think we're unconscious…” Morris begins to explain.
“Being it's a political statement,” interjects Davis. “None of us need to issue statements clarifying our political stance. But I think we won't not we talk about things when we think they're important.”
She then takes a beat to think about what he has just offered her.
“That's a pull quote right there.”
from our partners at https://www.rollingstone.com/music/music-features/last-dinner-party-indie-rock-sexism-1234980587/