Stuffed there in the back, a sound mixer on the radio lowering and raising guitar levels over the first five tracks, is a sense of rooted form for The Last Dinner Party and their venue choices. Their momentum is rising and pushing them toward the Roundhouse in London and beyond. No turning back from then, but until then, it is dingy clubs in the heart of the East Riding of Yorkshire. The Welly is home to some of the very best, and it could not be clearer than that with The Last Dinner Party, whose appearance here is nothing shy of extraordinary. Delicately piecing their three hit singles into the larger puzzle and inevitable future album, The Welly plays host to a band on a fiery rise.
Blitzing through thirteen of their very best songs, ten of which yet to be released, the sense of community found in the response to their work has been intense. It forms one of many reasons for their success. Truly unique and honest experiences, the Catholic school days charted on My Lady of Mercy, relating to anyone and everyone who found themselves clubbed together in a school named after some distant saint nobody really ever heard of. On the topic of never heard, The Last Dinner Party use the Hull faithful to debut new track Big Dog. It feeds the same vibrancy which guides the five-piece so well already. Up to the task of winning over a crowd who are likely only up to speed on a handful of their tracks, the likes of Godzilla, Feminine Urge and Beautiful Boy are to die for.
Impatiently wait, then, for their release. Until then it is a matter of catching The Last Dinner Party in the small halls their roots are in. Destined to leave this behind following the intensity which surrounds the release of inevitable closer Nothing Matters. Lead vocalist Abigail Morris is on fine form, twirling around the stage, diving toward the front row and generally keeping a wildcard energy about them which will surely place her as a future all-time great of live stage presence. The Last Dinner Party has an uncanny and almost accidental uniformity, a sway to the beat which feels genuine, as though the band were taken by the rhythm, rather than playing up to the crowd.
This helps tremendously with the attitude The Last Dinner Party takes on stage. Little time for chatter, just good clean tracks which see Emily Roberts stun time and time again with guitar flourishes and solo delights. Gjuha into Sinner is surely a neat little nod to how the album tracklist is shaping up, but that is merely speculation for the walk home after an all-time great gig. Pick up a lighter at the merch stall. Two, even. How about eight? They have bottle openers on them, though for someone who neither smokes nor drinks beer, it makes for a collector’s item to slot next to a stolen Wheatus poster, a bit of confetti from a Pulp gig and a signed piece of paper from The Waeve. Those are the moments gig-goers love and for The Last Dinner Party, who find themselves having no trouble filling out venue after venue, it is an energy and true joy which carries them on as a real shining highlight of the year so far.
