If you've never heard The Last Dinner Party, I hope this is your first opportunity to do so. If it isn't your first time, then I hope it isn't the last. Last year, or perhaps the year before, my good friend Krystal went to see them at a festival. She encouraged and pestered me to listen to the band.
I ignored her for the longest time, and what a fool I was. One thing kept happening though, the recommendation engine at the heart of every musical streaming service I use supported her suggestion. After an incredibly long, repeated examinations of each and everyone of The Florence and the Machine albums in anticipation of Everybody Scream (which, as I write this, should be out!). All the while, The Last Dinner Party's tracks kept appearing at the end of my play lists, like unwelcome pests. But they nagged, eventually, I relented and I listened.
Since then, my journey is that of binge and apology. To my friend, I am sorry - on numerous occasions. I am sorry for not indulging your recommendation. This writing is another apology, but also a review of From The Pyre, the second studio album from The Last Dinner Party.
With leading tracks such as This is the Killer Speaking and Scythe you would be forgiven for thinking that this is an album about death. The title of the album certainly gives us a few clues as well, with From The Pyre suggesting at a great heap of things on fire, and watching them burn. Fire does not only destroy, it also is something which is used to purge and cleanse. There are things, however - that require cleansing, and they're not negative things.
There are some extraordinary tracks about mundane things on this album.
The opening track, Angus Dei starts downbeat, sung in minor chords with touch of dissonance, and is fundamentally a song about para social relationships between the audience and performers. The other underlying themes of this song are of the Earth itself being a map by which to navigate through life. It puts the band in the shoes of the crowd, and leads them back to the stage, over and over. An alternate interpretation would be one of love and lust, with a sensual undertone present throughout the lyrical elements of the song.
Count the Ways could be abstracted further to a single word, but this is not a song about enumeration or arithmetic. Instead, it is a song about loss and love, and is bitter-sweet and full of beauty. It is quiet, understated, and one of the best songs on the album. Full of emotional impact, it is a love song about loving the past, loving the idea, loving what may have slipped through one's fingers. Then, for the next track we dive straight into the failure of those aspirations and lovelorn.
Second Best is one that will do well in live environments. The title is rather descriptive. A track about never being good enough, of love scorned, but strangely played for the most part in upbeat, major keys, which results in a juxtaposition which is confusing but welcomed. It is about moving on, in a way. A narrative starts to develop on this album.
One of the strongest tracks comes next, and it appears that it is one which has toured heavily already - This is the Killer Speaking is brilliant all the way through. Full of incredible imagery, atmosphere, musical tension and contrast between quiet and loud, it is a song that feels wholly original and complete. It is not the sort of thing you would hear on the radio, or at a club. That is a fine thing.
Rifle, on the other hand, is a non-negotiable instrument of a band absolutely killing it. I very much hope this becomes a live staple, and with a groovy chorus such as it has, heavier than the ethereal melodies and harmonisation reached by the band, it is a glimpse into the wonders of drop D tuning. With a commanding bass line, and the swinging pendulum of hips, this is a song you dance to, even if you don't know any moves. Lyrically, the song is dark, and in a veiled way speaks out against the proliferation of monotheistic religion, indoctrination, and more - using unconventional and powerful metaphor. It is my favourite track on the record. It is both quiet and loud.
We then enter a period of beautiful expressions of feminine energy, which is a driving force behind almost every track. Vulnerability, strength, and the observational power of woman is on display in Woman is a tree. In I hold your anger, a familiar story of the pacifying, calming presence that women play against so much male emotion is drawn out.
Both are beautiful tracks, and it makes me wonder if there is such a thing as feminism - for men! newsletter that I could perhaps suggest many people subscribe to. If, perhaps, more people did, we wouldn't get music like this. Nonetheless, too often we forget and fail to place appropriate value on the acts of nurturing and sacrifice that woman endures for man.
Sail Away reminds me of so many things. It is a gorgeous song, which problematically, invites me to mishear lyrics again and again. Not due to the enunciation or pacing of lyrical elements, but due to my own sense of whimsy that kicks in when things become too profound.
And then we arrive at the most profound and beautiful, Scythe. The music video for this track leaves no ambiguity about the intended meaning of this song. How sad to live and watch the one you love wither away at the caresses of time's immortal, calloused hand? This song will tell you. The lyric, please let me die, on the street where you live is potent and desperate.
Watch the video, enjoy the song, and love those around you. They won't last forever.
Closing on an absolute banger with Inferno, this track does not hold its punch. Though it is filled with beautiful and strange metaphor, it discusses a society on the brink, and evokes images of Parisian riots, without ever mentioning them - I guess it does in a roundabout way, for there is a reference to Joan of Arc. In this song, I imagine her waiting on the stake for her death as she feels the inviting, terrifying warmth of the flames. The flames don't come from the gathered crowd, they build from society's displeasure.
It does leave a valid question. After you've burned it all down, what comes next?
The whole album, and indeed, almost the entire body of work produced by this band seems to have taken Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody, wrapped it in gentle feminine lament and quiet, beautifully understated aggression that is released in a gentle, almost inviting, poetic manner. Behind it, stand a group of talented women effortlessly demonstrating incredible vocal synergy and harmony.
It strikes me as awkward how so much Art is still present here, especially so in a world filled with an increasing, insatiable lust for shareholder returns above all else.
Yet, there lies the paradoxical element, reminding me this band is signed by the same incredible quiet titan, Island Records that holds rights to Sabrina Carpenter, Bon Jovi, Chapel Roan and Bob Marley, and I wonder how long this creative freedom may last.
I will be seeing the band on January 13, and you better believe that I'll be writing about my feelings of that day!