"From the Pyre": The Flaming Rebirth of The Last Dinner Party

If you’re going to get burned, you might as well do it in style. "From The Pyre", the sophomore album by The Last Dinner Party, is full of mythology and glittering gothic drama. After a whirlwind of “industry plant” accusations, which the five-piece from the UK described as a witch hunt, the band reclaims the narrative by turning it into art. Thrown on the pyre once, they now dance around it, torches in hand. The album feels like stepping through heavy velvet curtains into their imagined world, “The Pyre”. A place of haunted lovers, mystical figures, and crying saints. It’s baroque pop theatre at its finest, rich with biblical references and full of feminist fury at the same time. This album is a reminder that being dramatic and loud about your emotions isn’t something to hide, but something cathartic we should all practice more often.

The Tracks: A March Through Fire

"Agnus Dei" opens the album, portraying fame as a form of religion and desire as a form of devotion. It’s seductive, self-mythologising, and theatrical. It’s giving us everything we already love about The Last Dinner Party and welcomes us back into their world with open arms. "Count The Ways" slides in next, led by a bassline that beats like a jealous heart. Abigail Morris narrates heartbreak with precision, watching a lover move on while she lingers like a ghost in the corner. Then comes "Second Best". With its echoing church-choir intro and sharp, petty energy, sung straight from the confessional booth. The lines read like old poetry and sound even better when delivered by Abigail Morris.

You leave me again, he’s waiting downstairs.
There’s always somebody waiting downstairs.
Ain’t it nice? Second best.

"This Is The Killer Speaking" pushes that theatricality even further. Here, the world of “The Pyre” truly unfolds, full of mysticism and a sense of creeping magic. Listening feels like wandering through the band’s imaginary world yourself. In the music video, you can even get a look at the characters and the world they designed. But "Rifle" is the real showstopper. It begins with church organs and slowly unfolds into one of the most breathtaking songs on the album. When the bridge hits, I actually stopped what I was doing; it’s that cinematic. It sounds incredibly angelic when they sing in French; you might actually start transcending.

Crush to dust.
All you love.
Does it feel good. Spilling blood?

"Woman Is a Tree" and "I Hold Your Anger" form the emotional core of the record. They are meditations on womanhood and the unbearable inheritance of our roles, both their weight and their grace. “I don’t know where others begin and I end,” Morris murmurs, her voice darker and more distant than ever, almost unrecognizable, or as if she is speaking for all of us. It’s haunting and heartbreakingly relatable.

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.
‘Cause I’m woman, and I’m mother.
Oh, I’m a ship inside a bottle, ‘til the levee breaks.
I don’t want to break.

"Sail Away" comes in like a whisper, toning down the album’s intensity with a fragile piano ballad. It builds upon the ship imagery of the previous track and features a beautiful outro, which sounds like it's sung by a choir of sirens, casting a spell on a loved one to prevent them from ever slipping away. It’s the gentle exhale before the emotional earthquake that follows. Because then there’s "The Scythe". The single I’ve already had on repeat for weeks and, let’s be real, my personal song of the year. It’s the kind of track that grabs your heart and wrings it out. The idea was already formed nine years ago, and it truly feels timeless, as it explores themes of grief and love while entwining them. It’s quiet when you should hold your breath, loud when it should hurt, and absolutely perfect. Finally, "Inferno" closes the circle. A cathartic finale where the band is watching their own fire burn, unafraid of what’s left when the smoke clears.

The Verdict

From The Pyre is a reclamation and a reminder that talent should never have to defend itself. The Last Dinner Party leans harder into everything that makes them remarkable. Their baroque-rock sound, feminist storytelling, and ability to make grief sound glamorous. With their debut, "Prelude to Ecstasy", The Last Dinner Party opened a whole new world of music to us, with baroque grandeur and unapologetic emotion. Now, with their second album, they continue to pull us deeper into their unique magic. Through artistry, they have built a universe that feels both otherworldly and unmistakably their own. The Last Dinner Party emerged untouchable, singing about love, loss, and the unbearable beauty of being a woman in a world that wants to consume you. I’m very much not religious, but From the Pyre is as close as I have ever gotten to a religious experience.

Step into the world of "The Pyre": Listen to the new The Last Dinner Party album here: