The Last Dinner Party 'Prelude to Ecstasy'

What if an indie-rock-pop group consisted of two classically trained musicians and three punk rockers? It’s a deceptively simple question, answered by the complex and evocative 5 piece (no permanent drummer) ensemble The Last Dinner Party. Commonly referred to as the most anticipated musical act of 2024, their debut album Prelude to Ecstasy was released on Groundhog Day through Island Records to instant classicality and critical acclaim. 

Produced by James Ford, best known for his work with the Arctic Monkeys on projects such as 2022’s The Car and 2007’s Favourite Worst Nightmare but more recently a collaborator with Declan McKenna, Prelude to Ecstasy is everything your maximal dark heart could desire. An album that opens with stirring instrumentals, which seem to hearken to the rest of the project with brief leitmotifs, leaps through hoops of gender deconstruction with a sound like an even more British Florence + The Machine for two tracks, before bursting into something like Born to Die-era Lana Del Rey with ‘The Feminine Urge’ is nothing to stick your nose up at. If that was an EP and all they had released, music fans would find it sufficient, instead we’ve been gifted with 41 minutes, a brief but modern LP, of fine sonic bathing. ‘On Your Side’ bounces from empty sonic expanse and haunting vocals to thrilling vibrancy, a jungle of whistling, thick drums, and a pulsing bass that explores relationships and the ennui of never quite knowing another human being. Lines like “The wind was blinding so I clung to you” explore the Orphean tragedy of romance in a really innovative way. This is the kind of song you can glibly sing with a lover or stare achingly out of a window to. 

‘Caesar on a TV Screen’ is the kind of art that deserves a writeup all its own. With references as wide-ranging as Leningrad, Nero, and transmasculinity, it revels in the complexity of well-considered poetics. I always find myself tapping, nodding, and shaking my hips along with this track, and I think the propulsion of the instrumentals really lies in the big band sonics of timpani, tambourine, and tight wound strings. There’s a haunting and high-tempo ferocious strum throughout the whole track that just sets the heart alight, as the singer belts about going down to her knees to beg for “an answer.” If you listen to nothing else from this album, give ‘Caesar on a TV Screen’ the opportunity to be your song of the year.

‘Beautiful Boy’ is probably the standout track on the album. It spins around fabulous queer topics like the liberation of exploring alternative genders, turning rumination into a fabulous exploration of freedom and imagined ecstasy. Lyrically sparse, it has the haunting line of “I wish I could be a beautiful boy” to tug a winsome listener along. The thrumming bass evokes Arctic Monkeys The Car and the haunting flute sings of a new direction for baroque pop. Did I mention the aesthetics of this band? Achingly beautiful, and many of their live shows are themed, not dissimilar to a ball. I found the Albanian singing on ‘Gjuha’ to be particularly charming, and the modality of the song is not too familiar to my ear, which I quite enjoyed. Aside from ‘Beautiful Boy’ I think ‘Sinner’ and ‘My Lady of Mercy’ are the best or most definitive tracks of the album. ‘Sinner’ explores a Proustian reverie erupting from a moment of physical contact. The line “Felt like a sin” could have landed on Jessie Ware’s “That! Feels Good!” This is a track that tugs disco away from R&B and through a throbbing rock inflection that feels much closer to the heavy guitar that has made Britpop awe-inspiring for decades now. ‘My Lady of Mercy’ is the sort of sapphic exploration we’re all missing. “Oh, rest your feet on me” and “Teach me how to do as you do” are some of the best lines I’ve heard in a long time. ‘My Lady of Mercy’ becomes a much darker and primal rock song about two minutes in, and the twist revels in the same denouement that makes this album not only pleasant to listen to but perfect for any occasion.

The haunting existentialism of ‘Nothing Matters’ penetrates every verb and sonic moment, from the descending bells hanging like ivy over the portcullis of polite clap track and mid-range vocals to the anthemic chant of the title. It’s as if Gregorian chants were evoked in service of the beautiful meaninglessness of love. I am utterly enthralled by the idea of being “A sailor and a nightingale dancing in convertibles.” Aren’t you? By the time the 70s rock guitar starts slinging its stuff around two minutes in you realize this is a song that has taken you from staring into the void to roaring to life like a muscle car. That is true songwriting, not the sort of thing ‘nepo babies’ or ‘industry plants’ as kids like to accuse anything fun, new, and restless of being could produce. No, this is the music of the 21st century, delivered right on time. Last year’s album of the year, Endless Summer Vacation from lifelong musical wonder Miley Cyrus, came quite early. It seems 2024 has done it even earlier with Prelude to Ecstasy. This is the baroque pop we grew up listening to Panic! hoping for but never quite finding, especially as that project trailed off into the obtuse Tumblr-inflected narcissism of a guy from Las Vegas. I haven’t talked much about my grading scale for music, but the numbers reflect the ‘applicability’ of music more so than a particular rating. So a 1 is music ideal for one listener, a 4 is good for a car full or a careful dinner party, and an 8 is good stuff for any setting. 9s and 10s are generally singles and they can be vivacious party anthems, singalongs, or know-by-hearts. The decimal reflects how much I like the album, and it’s a standard 1-10 bad to great scale. This album is a solid 8.9/10. The kind of thing you can play while you break out the bottle of red and enjoy gluten-free meat-free extra-MSG girl dinner or vibe to with your sapphic love interest, hand in her hair. I cannot wait to see The Last Dinner Party live, and encourage you to jump at the chance, as five-piece bands don’t tend to last through too many albums.