A band made to be massive at a festival embracing their status.
Words: Abigail Firth.
Photos: Patrick Gunning.
A rise both speedy and warranted, The Last Dinner Party take on a huge booking on Glastonbury’s second-largest stage just months after their debut album ‘Prelude to Ecstasy’ dropped, but as a band scouted on the basis of their live shows, it’s business as usual.
Every TLDP set could be tagged as unmissable, but as the crowd stretches out across the fields, it’s obvious a moment like this is what they’ve been working up to. Somewhere between pure theatre, classic rock n’ roll and pop camaraderie stands The Last Dinner Party, a band made to be massive at a festival embracing their status.
It’s a joy to see a band like this revive the indie scene in this way, plumping for dress-swishing and head banging to songs about Catholicism, sex, and feeling inferior to the men who may not ‘get’ them. A roaring opening section of ‘Burn Alive’, ‘Caesar on a TV Screen’ and ‘The Feminine Urge’ make a statement for anyone who wasn’t sure who they are already; giving way to a softer middle section of ‘Beautiful Boy’ and ‘On Your Side’ that show the full spectrum of emotion.
If Glastonbury isn’t the place for making statements like championing a band fresh off debut enough to bill them this highly, then where is? TLDP know this too, and stave off any Tory allegations by encouraging the audience, here and at home, to vote them out.
There are plenty waiting to slag off The Last Dinner Party’s Saturday slot on Other; thinkpieces churned out with buzzwords like ‘industry plant’ and ‘nepo baby’. But fuck em, because none of it matters when you’re this bloody good.
