Following up a self-assured debut album is never an easy task. Few will rise to the challenge set by a strong start. The Last Dinner Party are part of that few. From The Pyre is exceedingly brilliant. Like Prelude to Ecstasy, the twist of the knife is more interesting than the reason for the violence. Hyper specifics and occasions of grandeur are turned on their head by the Abigail Morris-fronted group. They left an impression with catchy tones and a clear image. What few shortcomings Prelude to Ecstasy had are rectified here, expanded in a way that benefits not just the dedicated listener following along with every little detail, but those jaded journalists spinning plates elsewhere. Even those with too many pokers in the fire can appreciate the nuance which spreads across From The Pyre. A chance to break from desperate times, a lack of commentary on the world around us, is itself, a comment. From The Pyre is filled with subtle jabs and sensational songwriting quality.
Anything else would have been unexpected. The Last Dinner Party has walked the line well between escapism and righteous rage at what they see as a crumbling world. No wonder they are headed back into history, be it fictionalised like the heartbreaking familiarity of The Scythe or the boisterous thrills of rampaging murder from This is The Killer Speaking. Two stylish singles to promote From The Pyre, which is of a similar quality to Prelude to Ecstasy. It’s not just the overlap in tone which makes this apparent but the desire from each band member to flesh out a tone which is crying out for more stories. Occasionally, a project comes along that revives you. A piece of work to pull you out of a slump. From The Pyre is it, and it will be for many people beyond firm fans of the band. Sharp wordplay is an inevitability of The Last Dinner Party, but even then, it’s impossible to take it for granted.
From the euphoric yet apocalyptic opener, Agnus Dei, to the colder rock crunch of the follow-up song, Count the Ways. Instrumental overhauls, vocal consistencies and deeper lyrical messages are the triple offered on From The Pyre. Capturing the spirit of the first album is not enough. Expanding on it, that is what the band successfully does here. No small feat, but the energy, the excitement of hearing soft glam rock tones paired with the art rock style of the modern day, is a thrill. Rifle has that overture-like feel to it, this sense of a more substantial hold overwhelming the band. They ditch the catchier thrills of This is The Killer Speaking and head for a moodier, gothic-like structure to counter that romanticised history the first album brought about. A segue into Woman is a Tree is one of those many, remarkable flourishes.
Pair those with Hold Your Anger, as cutting a song as anything released by the band so far, and the purpose of From The Pyre is clear. It shifts away from the storytelling structure of the singles and instead becomes a commentary, rather than a journey. That transition suits The Last Dinner Party, whose change of tone is subtle enough to snap up the popular tones of their previous effort, while also embracing the flood after the levee breaks. Masterful work from the band, some of their confident best can be found on From The Pyre, as can experimental flourishes. Emily Roberts’ guitar work stands tall throughout, an identifiable flourish, one of the many, relied on by the band here. Sentimentality features on Sail Away in heavy doses, though those limousine-riding days feel like wants of the past, rather than the reality of now. Pair with The Scythe and closing song Inferno, and The Last Dinner Party maintains a truly special momentum brought on by their debut album.
