In another alphabetical mishap,
bypassing the newer records inside
the browser cubes, I momentarily
forgot about this top-notch all-
female English chamber pop rock
group called The Last Dinner Party,
a band so good I almost don’t
like them, not because I’m jealous,
not because I believe for a second
the accusation that they’re industry
plants (whatever the hell that
means), not because I don’t like
women musicians (I love them,
prefer them in a lot of cases,
and grow tired of bands without
any female representation, dismiss
them sometimes as sausage festivals),
and not because their songs
aren’t strong or their skills are not
impressive. There is just something
I don’t like about them, even
though I’ve bought both their debut
and their sophomore albums.
Let me listen again and I will try
to put my finger on the problem.
The performances are stellar,
the musicianship is laudable,
the arrangements interesting,
sophisticated, stylistically varied,
the production is top-notch.
But are the songs good? “Caesar
on a T.V. Screen” and “Sinner”
from the debut album, both
display some genre crossing greatness.
“My Lady of Mercy,” with it’s nearly
metal chorus completely divergent
from its verse form, is full of
prog rock goodness. It’s very difficult
to pick holes in this band, not that I’m
deliberately looking for holes. For
some reason, as much as I like them,
the songs don’t stick with me,
don’t insist on repeated play,
seemed somehow too sterile,
too serious for their own good,
too desperate to sound kind of edgy.
Let’s give the second album a spin.
The 6/8 groove of the opener, “Agnus
Dei,” is super rocking and the melody
here is strong and surprising and
memorable. The second and third
tracks on side one are equally stellar.
So far, even though I’ve only spun
this record a handful of times since
I first got a hold of it, I find
the tunes more memorable, more
ambitious, just better all around,
at least on the first side. Their
super powers are on full display:
their facility with playing different
feels within the same song, slowing
down or speeding up, orchestrally,
singing in different languages,
adding choral arrangements to
the proceedings, and moving pretty
radically and quickly between
dynamic ranges. This is not music
for dummies in a dance club.
They’re just so goddamned earnest,
and simultaneously distant, difficult
to relate to, at least lyrically.
I think these are the things that bug me.
Don’t get me wrong: I love them
and applaud their way of subverting
and exploding all genre expectations,
and I so much appreciate their
accomplished musicianship.
Somehow, still, they’re not speaking to me,
not in the way that St. Vincent, or Joan
As Police Woman, or k.d. lang speaks
to me. I’ll keep listening. You can probably
sign me up for that third album. I have
never loved a band I didn’t like so much
as I do The Last Dinner Party.
Notes on the vinyl editions:
- Prelude to Ecstacy, Island Records, 2024, clear vinyl with black swirl.
- The Pyre, Island Records, 2025, red vinyl.
In case you don’t already know: I’m listening to almost everything in my vinyl collection, A to Z, and writing at least one, sometimes two or three long skinny poem-like-things in response for each artist, and on a few occasions, writing a long skinny poem-like-thing in response to more than one artist. As a poet and a student of poetry, I understand that these things look like poems, but they don’t really sound much like poetry, hence, I call them “poem-like-things.” I’ll admit that they’re just long, skinny essays that veer every now and then into the poetic or lyric.
michael jarmer 