The Last Dinner Party review – Victoriana pomp and bombastic baroque rock

It’s Friday night in Glasgow and a largely young, queer, female audience are decked in ribbons, corsets and petticoats, as bombastic classical music blasts from the speakers. They’re waiting for the Last Dinner Party, a group of women and non-binary people whose debut album Prelude to Ecstasy was the culmination of a sharp recent rise – BBC Sound Of … and Brit Award wins, a Mercury nomination – which coincided with criticism of their privileged backgrounds. Tonight, seeing them play baroque rock songs such as Sinner and The Feminine Urge in theatrical frills, it’s refreshing to see a group doing something imaginative and class-tourism-free with the hand they have been dealt.

Swift career acceleration is something of a double edged sword for the band, who are clearly still figuring out their identity. The musical and visual references – from Victoriana to Sparks to Amanda Palmer – don’t always hang together as sharply as they could. Singer Abigail Morris has conviction when frolicking around the stage, but her charisma stalls when attempting between-song banter. The group are at their most electric when they lock into their shared chemistry, posturing together for the bombastic outro to Big Dog. Their presentation may still be wonky, but this is a band who feel like a proper gang, clearly having fun together. Each member gets their moment to shine, whether shredding or singing – most notably keyboard player Aurora Nishevci, whose Albanian folk composition Gjuha is a highlight.

Musically, they’re at their best when they really lean into classic rock. The production on record holds them back a bit, but on stage they rock out – thanks largely to guitarist Emily Roberts, playing huge riffs in a frilly minidress, biker boots and black angel wings. It would be good to see them fully commit to this mode, reclaiming unfashionable guitar music like the Darkness for zoomers – and the choice of Dire Straits’ Money For Nothing to play them off stage suggests it’s on their minds. Seeing groups of queer teens dressed in DIY opulence singing along on the way out is amusing and unusual – and exemplary of the band’s potential for the unexpected.