The Last Dinner Party, O2 Academy Brixton, London review • DIY Magazine

Usually, the phenomenon of fans dressing up for a show is associated with pop’s upper echelons - cowboy boots and hats for Chappell or Beyoncé; ‘Eras’ outfits for Taylor; extravagant homemade headpieces for Gaga. But, looking around the streets of South London tonight, it’s clear there’s an exception to the rule. With their sharp-edged frills and air of dishevelled decadence, The Last Dinner Party were almost destined to play here, the tarnished grandeur of Brixton Academy’s auditorium proving the perfect locale for the band’s always ambitious, ever-theatrical live production.

Indeed, when vocalist Abigail Morris recalls how, back in 2021, the five-piece played their second ever gig just down the road at the renowned Windmill, it’s funny to consider how their vision ever really fit into such small rooms. Standing before a backdrop of myriad draped sheets and a quasi-Shakespearean mise en scène (faux stone steps, archways, even some tastefully placed moss), the band are cast somewhere between Miss Haversham, Queen, and a school’s am-dram society.

Refuting the standard of a sole frontperson in favour of giving each member - quite literally - their turn in the spotlight, they barely pause for breath: opener ‘Agus Dei’ has lead guitarist Emily Roberts let rip from upon the staircase’s pedestal (the first of many monumental solos); the ABBA-esque majesty of ‘I Hold Your Anger’ sees pianist/vocalist Aurora Nishevci take the reins magnificently; and debut album favourite ‘The Feminine Urge’ finds Abigail prancing as if she hasn’t just been belting operatic vocals and working a mic stand like Mercury.

Unsurprisingly, the material from second album ‘From The Pyre’ blends seamlessly with that of last year’s ‘Prelude To Ecstasy’; just as their latest record is itself a doubling down on the maximalist motifs established by their debut, so too its live renditions are bigger, bolder, even better. Nowhere is this more clear than war lament ‘Rifle’ - an arrestingly-staged storm summoned by guitarist/vocalist Lizzie Mayland, for which the backdrop whips with wind and blooms red with blood as a mobile of mirrored swallows casts dancing shadows across the stage. Between all the glam-rock bombast and gleeful high drama, it’s one of the night’s most evocative moments - one matched only by the thunderous, elongated applause that follows the grief-stricken ‘The Scythe’; it’s enough to make the hair on your neck stand on end.

Similar, again, to pop’s heavy-hitters, The Last Dinner Party have also accrued a dedicated fanbase; tonight, a huddle of teenage girls hang over the barrier, bringing with them a host of synchronised dance routines and - unexpectedly - inflatable saxophones, which are whipped out to mimic Aurora’s own. When asked if the band should give a new song - ‘Knocking At The Sky’, ostensibly an “ode to Los Angeles” - its rollicking live debut, they revel in a bout of pantomime-style call-and-response; when the time comes for debut single ‘Nothing Matter’’s ever-anthemic climax, they lead the whole venue, stalls and all, in life-affirming, arms-aloft chorus.

But it’s ‘This Is The Killer Speaking’ which now lays claim to the set’s curtain-down grand finale - an encore which is, for all its energy and enthusiasm, a slightly bewildering affair. Bolstered by a two-man brass section, the band cavort through the Western-tinged romp until, just before its final throes, proceedings are paused in aid of a de facto dance lesson, wherein Abigail is joined by support act Imogen and The Knife for a step-by-step demonstration of some choice moves. It’s fun, doubtless, but almost feels to stall the spectacle just as it reaches its triumphant crescendo, a loss of momentum that’s at odds with an otherwise impeccably paced performance. Still, what’s theatre without a bit of comic relief? Four years on from their earliest of days, The Last Dinner Party have shown Brixton that their ambition truly knows no bounds.