The Last Dinner Party grace the Brighton Centre – music review

I’ve spent hours moaning about The Last Dinner Party. For many moons I was convinced they were nepo babies, thrown into fame by Universal Records to sell albums to middle class indie fans. But I was entirely wrong. Well, maybe not entirely. The Last Dinner Party are distastefully posh – however, their performance and musical composition is immaculate.

My resentment with the 5-piece began with the release of their debut album, “Prelude to Ecstasy”. Finding fame fast with their first single “Nothing Matters”, winning Radio 1’s Sound of 2024 Award, I quickly felt as though their success was unearned. After all, many of my favourite bands spent years producing fantastic records, never gaining the recognition it took The Last Dinner Party just months to receive.

Barely listening to the debut album, I stubbornly insisted they were rubbish. That is until I caught them supporting Olivia Rodrigo at Hyde Park in 2025 and quickly changed my mind. After listening to their 2025 release, “From the Pyre”, I realised I’d been too quick to judge.

With a new outlook on what I ignorantly considered to be a gentrified fashion parade, The Last Dinner Party rose through the ranks and became amongst my favourite bands.

Owing them an apology for my relentless whining about their success, I headed down to Brighton to catch the final leg of their “From the Pyre” tour.

Teenage girls wearing gothic baroque outfits

After managing not to get blown away walking across Brighton seafront in gale-force winds, I made my way into The Brighton Centre.

Upon entry I was searched for weapons and informed that knives had already been found on two guests that evening.

Reassured I wasn’t going to be stabbed, I slipped my way into the crowd managing to awkwardly and Britishly “sorry” and “excuse me” my way into a central spot in the audience.

I quickly became aware I was of a minority demographic as a 19-year-old man. Most of the audience was populated by teenage girls wearing colour coordinated gothic baroque outfits. It is unusual that I’m the tallest at a gig but that night, proudly wearing my Idles t-shirt and baggy jeans, I stuck out like a sore thumb.

Dramatic stage decor

The Last Dinner Party are more of a theatrical performance than a conventional gig. The stage was dressed in mossy concrete arches, a church bell and stage backdrop made from draped white satin.

Agnus Dei

As anticipation built amongst their teenage fan tribe, I watched in awe as a roadie placed a large glass of red wine by each microphone.

I hold no prejudice against red wine, but their Merlot sipping certainly sums up my initial reservations about the band.

The lights dimmed and one by one each member strode onto the stage, each met by 100 decibel screams, until finally frontwoman Abigail Morris pranced out.

This was a pattern I noticed throughout the gig. It seemed I was the only audience member cordially clapping at the end of each song (I don’t have the courage or vocal cords to let out a supporting scream).

Sparing little time for small talk, “Agnus Dei” began, setting the scene for the band’s intellectual yet whimsical stage presence. Even allowing for the King’s College connection, their lyrics are heavy with numerous biblical and philosophical references. Which typically I would object to, but, frustratingly, all their songs are delicately written and pitch perfectly composed.

Until moments ago, when I searched it up on Wikipedia, I had no idea Agnus Dei (translating to Lamb of God) represents an emblem of Christ.

Maybe I wasn’t listening in secondary school RE lessons, but perhaps that explains why Abigail can be seen posing with lambs in the accompanying music video.

“On Your Side”

The Last Dinner Party often deliver tales of tragedy and romance with bouncing enthusiasm.

Abigail Morris’ striding showmanship throughout “Second Best” entices you to look past the brutality of despair-inducing lyrics. But “On Your Side” takes a different approach.

It’s fragile yet performed with enough theatrical grandness to create a sufficiently saddening atmosphere to wallow in heartbreak.

Even as a hard-hearted punk fan I found myself singing along hands in air with just as much enthusiasm as the teenagers beside me.

“Nothing Matters”

“We’re going to leave you with a song you may have heard on Radio 1,” Abigail declared.

The set was of course concluded with “Prelude to Ecstasy” hit “Nothing Matters”. Written in Morris’ ex-boyfriend’s bedroom on an upright piano, the top 20 debut single describes the unfettered intensity of a happy romantic relationship.

Not quite believing the set was over and hoping to get my £35 ticket’s worth with an encore, The Last Dinner Party returned to the stage for a last hurrah.

But before they could polish off the evening with “This is The Killer Speaking”, a mandatory 5-minute choreography lesson was insisted upon. I have strong feelings on audience participation. Any time I’m asked to “get low” or collectively asked, “How are you feeling, Brighton?” I feel acutely cringed out.

Despite my love for The Last Dinner Party, I couldn’t tolerate the prospect of being taught to dance by a King’s College graduate sipping red wine.

But this was a momentary drawback to what was otherwise a splendid evening. Despite their tendency to overplay their poshness, which can at moments be a little overbearing, their talent is impressive and my initial reservations about the band were overcome.

The Last Dinner Party are not just a one hit wonder; they are perfectionists, not only in the studio, but most importantly, in every detail of their live performance.

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