Anticipation usually builds before any given concert worth your time and money. However, in the case of the British band The Last Dinner Party, this anticipation is slightly different.
Formed in 2021, the band’s rise to the top has been both swift and meteoric. Dropping their debut single, Nothing Matters, in April 2023, the band were quickly catapulted from London’s pub scene into dizzying spirals of worldwide fame. Earning sets at Glastonbury, Coachella and more, the band were soon compared to icons like Kate Bush and David Bowie.
The band, consisting of lead vocalist Abigail Morris, vocalist and guitarist Lizzie Mayland, lead guitarist, mandolin and flute player Emily Roberts, keyboardist and vocalist Aurora Nishevci and bassist, and Sydney’s very own Georgia Davies, are something quite original. With an avant-garde pop sound and a distinctively baroque look, one can easily slot the five-piece onto a different shelf than most live acts today.
So, as I walked into the Hordern Pavilion, surrounded by corseted fans who looked like they were attending a medieval re-enactment, I was just hoping that this anticipation would pay off. I can say without an ounce of hyperbole that it most certainly did.
With a stage set in banners that looked like they were ripped from the set of Harry Potter and an operatic score that felt both cunning and charming, I could feel the ripples of excitement beginning to grow in the audience. The smiles were getting riper, phones were beginning to be pulled from pockets, and the time was nigh.
Upon a dim light and an audience roar, the band emerged like a coven of witches descending upon a cauldron. Dressed in costumes evocative of a gothic Marie Antoinette, the band jumped into the dramatically charming Burn Alive. With an almost 80’s synth sound, Morris’s voice bellowed the deliciously poetic, “There is candle wax melting in my veins/ So I keep myself stand in your flames/ Burn, burn me alive”.
Sounding exactly how they do on recording, I was immediately taken aback by the band’s stage presence. Parading around the stage like a modern-day Siouxsie Sioux caught in a tapestry, Morris appears to really know how to draw you in and not let you leave.
Next, the band jumped into the seductive yet sparse track Caesar On A TV Screen. Morris sings the song as if she were caught in a battle of love, and this is her cry. Screaming the lines, “And just for a second, I can be one of the greats,” the song showcases the band’s almost Shakespearean theatricality and how entertaining it can truly be.
“Good evening, Sydney,” Morris bellowed as she winked at the audience through a sip of red wine. She and the rest of the band all looked like they had a sexy little secret for the audience. Regardless of whether they did, it was an effective choice to keep everyone comfortably on edge.
Next, playing The Feminine Urge, a song about feminine rage, I began to note how vivid the band’s lyrics truly are. Containing scintillating imagery, the lines “I am a dark red liver stretched out on the rocks/ All the poison, I convert it, and I turn it to love” conjured a remarkably raw image.
“It’s so nice to be home”, Davies later said to the audience. “I grew up on the Northern Beaches. I know half the people here. I used to come to the Hordern [Pavillion] myself. I even saw Tame Impala here”.
Swept up in emotion, one could really feel Davies’ sincerity in how memorable her homecoming was. Plus, to make it even more special, Morris revealed a banner mid-song, which read, “Georgia’s Homecoming 24”.
“This is the weeping hour,” Morris later declared before the band jumped into the devastatingly gorgeous On Your Side. While the song starts sweetly, it is but a cunning disguise for the song’s tortured lyrics. “When it’s 4 a.m., and your heart is breaking/ I will hold your hand to stop them from shaking”. Brought to her knees by emotion, tears eventually began to flow from Morris’ eyes. “I was in such a bad place when I wrote that song. And I know a lot of people on stage say it, but thanks”, Morris sobbed to the audience in a touching, raw moment.
The show was, however, not all tears and theatrics. Morris later did a shoey out of her Edward Scissorhands-looking boot. “Shall we do the shoey song?” Davies asked the audience before Morris skulled the contents of her boot. Set to the noise of, “Here to Abigail, she’s true blue…” this was the Australian baptism of The Last Dinner Party.
The band later covered Chris Isaak’s Wicked Game and Sparks’ This Town Ain’t Big Enough For Both Of Us. While the covers did not work as well as their originals, this could easily be forgiven, given that the band is still on their first album and figuring out their kinks. Each of their originals, however, felt significant and like they were adding something to the charmingly sinister brew the band was concocting.
After a brief encore, the band’s final song, Nothing Matters, whipped the audience into a frenzy. At times, the band appear like a coven of the sweetest witches you’ve ever laid eyes on, and then, in an instant, they switch into the most scrumptiously daring of rockstars.
If this is the last dinner party, I’m in and will bring the finest wine I have.
