Hopefully and presumably nothing to do with the ill-fated, cage-clad Newcastle-based nightclub of the same name, The Last Dinner Party and their latest single power through in fine form. Away from the dreary expectations of the club life and style the North East has to offer, a delicate piano introduction shows off the feeling of getting too big, too tall, to associate with certain people any longer. Self-respect or ego, it is all to play for in a fine piece of work following on from the powerhouse release of Nothing Matters. Flickers of looking back on the past with the responsibilities and experiences of the here and now traverse the sin-like feel of embarrassing thoughts, it is all there to be ripped into and The Last Dinner Party are, once more, in top form for Sinner.
Nothing less should be expected from the nicely placed guitar riffs, and the haunting pairing it makes with. Memories are whatever and when the mind drifts from short and sweet tacks because the dishes need doing, the fear creeping in and the flat pack furniture still in bits on the floor, a reset is needed. Sinner proves hopeful, this desperate and crawling three-minute powerhouse which lends itself to romantic fury and a departure of the usual senses can apply just about anywhere. The world is small, as Abigail Morris’ welcoming-yet-venomous lyrics demonstrate. Breaking free of that small cage is the core of Sinner and feeling the guilt of moving up and out is right there at the centre of it all.
Whether it is moving from person or to location does not matter, the wailing guitar solo underneath it all, out of step with the rest of the lighter touches, presents a nice balance. It is as chilling as it gets and as Sinner breaks from this feel to explore its fear of disappointment and the desire to pray it all away, the track takes a turn. Emily Roberts’ lead guitar work is nothing shy, a bold and boisterous experience which brings about the certainty of Aurora Nishevci’s keyboard work. It all blurs together, as though the group are doing their own rock operatic madness before closing it out as suddenly and independently as it opened. No start, no end, just the guilt of sin and all things wonderful which come along with the desire to do it anyway and worry about the problems later down the line.
Troubles of this nature, the love lost or the council tax bill yet to be sent off to the Post Office, are usually monotonous and typical to the everyday. The Last Dinner Party finds warmth and cool hope in the romanticism of their lyrical stance, an uncertainty which did not brood in the powerful and self-assured rhythm of Nothing Matters. The Last Dinner Party holds firm with its image and tactful desire to display the indie themes of the here and now with Sinner. Boastful yet repentant, some defiant bits and pieces from the inner workings of a band rising and riding a wonderful wave. Sinner has all the right spots to it and makes for a comfortable second single from The Last Dinner Party, whose image and theme are clearer and clearer the more they release.