Catholic guilt weighs heavy on many people. But in their brilliant sophomore record From The Pyre, London art rock band The Last Dinner Party presents a character that might just bear the burden of religious trauma the most: the eldest daughter as she navigates situationships.
From The Pyre successfully continues the momentum of The Last Dinner Party’s Mercury-nominated debut album, Prelude to Ecstasy. This new record is baroque pop at its finest, complete with grandiose drama, Catholic imagery and, of course, the occasional organ.
The offering begins with the apocalyptic “Agnus Dei,” meaning Lamb of God. In the song, frontwoman Abigail Morris likens a star-crossed lover to a deity she yearns for. The line between situationship psychosis and religious fervor is very blurry, and at times somewhat graphic. Instead of the usual butterflies in one’s stomach, Morris sings, “One kiss and I / was disemboweled.”
It becomes apparent early in the album that Morris’s character dreamed that this love affair would make it all the way to the holy sacrament of matrimony. The “ring on my finger” that closes “Agnus Dei” comes back in the second track, “Count The Ways,” as she posits “I can hear strings that should be for me / I can see rings that should be for me.” Romantic disappointment and feelings of inadequacy continue in track three, “Second Best.”
True crime fans will enjoy how this love story ends, though. In the lead single (track four), “This Is The Killer Speaking,” Morris's character turns homicidal, cutting off her emotional entanglement and making her lover pay penance. This track was an excellent choice for a lead single. It’s catchy, confident, and in it, the mysticism of The Last Dinner Party’s aesthetic briefly turns Western. The outlaw motif is especially evident in the music video for “This Is The Killer Speaking.”
From there, the thematic content of the album shifts to the emotional burdens of womanhood. “Woman Is A Tree” begins with primal a cappella, with feminine voices ringing in the forest, like trees communicating with one another through their roots. The band continues to tie their lyrics back to religion, as Morris sings, “I’m Superior Mother / I answer the call / There is no other / I capture the fall.”
Morris's main character continues to be the fall guy, or the sacrificial lamb, if you will, during “I Hold Your Anger.” This track accomplishes what Taylor Swift’s “Eldest Daughter” was trying to be. It details the cross that women bear as they navigate the pressures of their own lives while also holding space for their loved ones’ emotions. “I hold your sorrows, hold your fears / Hold your anger in my tears / Nobody asked me to / But that is what I’m meant to do,” Morris sings. Eldest daughter syndrome and Catholic guilt seem to have a lot in common.
Situationship purgatory rears its head a couple more times by the end of the album. In “The Scythe,” the character acknowledges the end of an entanglement, but has hope they’ll be together in the next life, as Morris sings “I’ll see you in the next one / Next time, I know you’ll call.” The closing track, “Inferno,” amps up that anticipatory energy as Morris asserts, “I’m Joan of Arc / I’m dying just waiting for your call.”
The mother of the horror genre, Mary Shelley, famously went up to her late husband Percy Shelley’s funeral pyre to pluck out and keep his heart. While Mary Shelley didn't follow Percy into the afterlife that day, the main character in From The Pyre does enter eternal suffering by the end of “Inferno," going from “breathing the dust of an inferno” to being “nothing but dust in an inferno.” Whether those flames be a burning pyre or religious hellfire, it’s clear that her lover’s snare and its emotional burden have engulfed her.
Character-driven feminine rage is at the forefront of From The Pyre’s lyrics, but the instrumentation of the record is what really drives its storytelling. There are no throwaway songs on this album. Every track is opulent and melodramatic, from the Spring Awakening-esque, childlike pining in “Sail Away,” to the ominous organ and choral soundscape of “Rifle.” Lizzie Mayland and Emily Roberts’ guitar work, Georgia Davies’ bass and Aurora Nishevci’s keys bring the drama and the scrupulosity, making The Last Dinner Party’s sophomore effort an irresistible listen.
