LIVE REVIEW: The Last Dinner Party – Mountford Hall, Liverpool Guild Of Students, Liverpool – 12/10/2024

“A dinner party?” is the response from one passerby after asking what’s on tonight. “For, like, 400 people?” (Naturally, there’s one or two more than that.)

He’s clearly one of the few yet to be made privy to the chokehold The Last Dinner Party have had on music in 2024. As an act smothered in hype before even a single second of music was released, the ‘industry plant’ accusations came thick and fast, but many in the same position wouldn’t spend the entirety of the year refuting them this soundly. They’re already a genuine phenomenon, the flagbearers of baroque-pop for a generation who may have only discovered what that actually is through Running Up That Hill being on Stranger Things. Thus, there’s a high volume of younger, mostly non-male attendees, a lot of whom have turned up in their best indie-goth gladrags, for what’s a significantly different brand of indie breakthrough. The Last Dinner Party are a higher-end prospect, after all, a feature which has been both their key selling point and their cross to bear. They don’t deny it, though; over the speakers beforehand are the sounds of Pavarotti and Ernest Gold’s Ari’s Theme from the 1960 film Exodus, borderline alien mood-setters from your standard indie gig.

Tonight though, on a bill all about facilitating an alternative chic where no performer is treading too heavily on the others’ toes, it’s about right. Kaeto, for instance, has that arty expressiveness to her, in the flowing, interpretive arm motions that pair with a supple indie- and dream-pop sound. The variety amongst it all remains good, anchored predominantly in Kaeto’s inherent, developing magnetism and her bassist’s (and his fetching cowboy hat’s) firm input. To the right crowd (this one, honestly), there could be some exceptional momentum picked up in future, even with The Thing right now to get these songs out of opener status. Even so, you can’t fault the tenacity in trying to slow into a headliner’s silhouette by any means possible. With Kaeto’s plastered-on smile and little hop as she exits the stage, the belief to keep working towards it is unquestionably there.

With Lucia & The Best Boys, however, you could give them a bit of extra airplay tomorrow and the red carpet to superstardom would be theirs. Their corner of the theatrically-minded circle (outside of the obligatory Kate Bush-isms) span a gamut of dark-pop and post-punk, washed in darkwave gloss that’s immensely captivating regardless of how it could be a smidge deeper. Lucia Fairfall is enough of a star to disregard any cracks, anyway. Apparently she’s suffering from a bit of vocal fatigue tonight, not that you can tell when her own resplendent power is fairly airtight across the board. Other than a rare misstep into glam-rock clunk on So Sweet I Could Die, it’s difficult to complain about any of this. Pound-for-pound, Lucia & The Best Boys are about as good as this specific genre of support band gets.

In most other situations, a band like that wouldn’t simply be garnish for what’s to come, but given that The Last Dinner Party are proven showstoppers now, it’s inevitable. Theirs is a shadow that’s loomed over this entire night, the kind of classically trained theatricality that alternative spaces just don’t embrace anymore. Their night sky backdrop almost feels like a play set or a tableau you’d see in an art film; similarly, the light cues are softer, and the mood is far less of an all-gas gaudiness. There’s unquestionably a luxury to be found, or a richness in both the atmospheric and monetary sense. It’s all well and good to take jabs at The Last Dinner Party’s well-to-do background, but at least there isn’t the condescending class tourism that others in their position will embark on, in vainglorious hopes of seeming ‘down-to-earth’. If they’re going to be chided as boarding school poshos, at least they’ll have fun with it—“Get your TikToks out!” trills Abigail Morris upon taking a crowd member’s phone for a selfie. “We’re being human and relatable!”

It’d likely be a different story if they weren’t a great live band in their own right, but that isn’t an outcome that needs to be addressed. To put it simply, this is everything you need to fell an ‘industry plant’ retort, and replace with cold, hard evidence of your own skill. It’s Morris who’s the main player in this particular show, the livewire who’ll spend most of her time vamping and voguing amid the many regular classic-rock rips and crescendos. Once again, the visual component is more about the elegance and glamour than single, explosive moments. It’s why there really isn’t a designated highlighted—every slow-burning solo, shuddering wall of glitz and action taken to assist them hit with equally immaculate presence.

That’s not to say that The Last Dinner Party haven’t pulled out the stops. There’s still a lot of value in a stimulus as basic as a keytar for Caesar On A TV Screen or a flute for Beautiful Boy. Moreover, there are instances that could only come from this band specifically, to fit into the overall atmosphere they cultivate. The big one is Gjuha, led by keyboardist Aurora Nishevci in Albanian, with the mood taking an eerier turn in its louder harmonies and lower instrumental levels explored. Later on, Big Dog is almost a far-flung extrapolation of that, a roaring classic-rock slab that comes out of nowhere, yet still gets treated with the same showy reverence. There’s also a cover of Catherine Howe’s Up North wheeled out specifically for this tour’s northern dates, and even if guitarist Lizzie Mayland’s attempts at connection at being “Yorkshire born and bred” don’t especially land with a crowd who…aren’t, it’s the thought the counts.

It’s still a beautiful cover regardless, indicative of how pristine The Last Dinner Party’s creative impetus truly is. Going back to the earlier notion everything managing to land, it can’t be overstated how true that is. There’s not a dud moment or loose thread to be found, when the slow simmers of keys and guitars are never not transcendent, or every whole-band vocal harmony is impeccable. Morris’ vocals might be as one-to-one with Kate Bush as it comes—especially on Second Best and On Your Side, where it’s impossible to even attempt to deny—but it’s part of the show. It’s why The Last Dinner Party have rocketed up in such a way—no one is currently doing exactly what they are, never mind to this level. The finale of Nothing Matters seals it, as the most potent, extravagant distillation of their formula that sounds huge and flowing and gorgeous all on its own. No one at this Dinner Party is leaving underfed, that’s a dead cert.

Words by Luke Nuttall