Mash up the whirling-dervish sensuality of Kate Bush; the art-school, glam-rock style of Roxy Music; the witchy drama of Florence Welch; and even the camp religiosity of Madonna. What do you get? Something that starts to resemble the Last Dinner Party.
Pay attention to that word “Last.” “The Dinner Party” sounds a bit blah, even suburban, but add in the modifier and it becomes something much more portentous and thrilling. The Brixton band consists of Georgia Davies, Abigail Morris, Emily Roberts, Lizzie Mayland, and Aurora Nishevci, who met while attending college in London, and it is part of the same gothic, theatrical tradition that brought us Emerald Fennell’s Saltburn and Emma Stone’s virtuoso performance in Poor Things. (Even the video for their unforgettable single, “Nothing Matters,” includes a nude bath scene, recognizable as one of Saltburn’s more risqué moments.)
Some critics are describing the five-piece band as the most exciting in Britain. Their debut album, Prelude to Ecstasy, was released on February 2 and has already hit No. 1 on the U.K. charts. They have recently earned the BBC Sound of 2024 and Brits’ Rising Star awards, which are comparable to Grammys.
The Last Dinner Party also comes with its own micro-controversy: there was an unsubstantiated rumor floating around the Internet that their success was due to nepotism, for no real reason other than they became well known very quickly and scored a supporting slot for the Rolling Stones before they even had an album. The truth is that Lou Smith, an independent scout considered to be the patron saint of the South London music scene, posted a video of one of their concerts in a Bermondsey warehouse on his YouTube account. A month or so later, the band was signed by management firm Q Prime and then Island Records.
On Monday night at Resident, a record store in Brighton, the band members shrugged off the naysayers. “Once you have opportunities, it’s about what you do with them,” said Davies, before an evening of signing records and performing an acoustic set. “We have had zero leg up. We don’t have famous parents, but even if your parents are talented and successful, you can also be talented and successful.”
What they do have is fabulous music, intelligence, charm, and great style, which has become their calling card. (They even suggest dress codes such as “Brothers Grimm” and “Victoriana” for their shows—and their fans are eager to comply.) While contemporary female singers like Dua Lipa and Rita Ora are dressed and styled within an inch of their manicures, the Last Dinner Party is far more idiosyncratic and homespun.
They wear clothes that, frankly, any student can get their hands on—Victorian nightdresses, aprons, oversize denim, lace, pearls, and a smattering of smart, androgynous tailoring. They admit to coordinating their looks through a group chat. “You want some kind of theme, something cohesive, even if it ends up drifting,” says Nishevci, who is wearing wild lace tights and a micro-doublet-style dress with a high lace neck.
When they can afford it, the band works with stylist Rubina Vita Marchiori for big events. (They’re especially fond of her vintage Vivienne Westwood collection, which no doubt accounts for the number of corsets they have at their disposal.) But generally they wear their own clothes, which includes pieces from their designer friends like Brighton’s Rosie Evans—not well-known London names like Molly Goddard, Simone Rocha, and Bethany Williams.
In late February, the Last Dinner Party heads out on tour, hitting Milan right during Fashion Week, which happened more through luck than planning. If only Alessandro Michele was still heading up a fashion house, he would no doubt be scooping them up as ambassadors. (Perhaps he will if those rumors that he might be going to Fendi come true.) “I would have loved to work with him,” says Davies with a grin.
Their upcoming tour schedule is as eclectic as their clothes. They’ve booked a date in Hebden Bridge, a northern British town known as “lesbian central”—then they head to Mexico City and Coachella, with sellouts coming up in Austin, Milwaukee, and Brooklyn.
However, a neat way with a petticoat doesn’t generate this kind of enthusiasm. That’s due to their captivating performances and personal appearances, which have driven their success more than TikTok and streaming services.
Morris, who has written the lyrics to most of the songs on the album, is a front woman of sensational charisma. Her Freddie Mercury–like strides and flirtatious, slightly challenging gaze are in danger of distracting from the range of her voice. The others—Mayland, with her red mullet, similarly great voice, and accomplished guitar skills; Guildhall School of Music–trained Nishevci, on keyboards; the quieter Roberts, on guitar, mandolin, and lute; and the confident Davies, with her thumping bass—make it a band of real musicianship.
They identify as non-binary, and some of their tracks explore gender roles. (In “Beautiful Boy,” they declare, “The best a boy can ever be is pretty,” and in “Burn Alive,” they confess, “I am not the girl I set out to be.”) In addition to scores of young women, their fan base includes a surprising number of middle-aged men, chanting in ecstasy. For the Last Dinner Party, it looks like everyone and everything is there for the taking.
Alexandra Shulman, the longest-serving editor of British Vogue, is a columnist at The Mail on Sunday and the author of the memoir Clothes … and Other Things That Matter
