If you’re looking for an album that sounds like a rock musical, The Last Dinner Party has the perfect thing for you.
The British alternative band released their sophomore album, “From the Pyre,” on October 17, 2025.
With a sound like if Florence and the Machine sang Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody,” The Last Dinner Party always brings the theatrics to their narrative-driven music. Their first record, “Prelude to Ecstasy,” sounded like music straight off the stage. With their latest album, though, they’ve dialed up the rock influences.
It’s really hard to pick standout songs on “From The Pyre” because they all bring something different to the table. There are three or four different narratives packed into one 45-minute album.
The 10-song tracklist follows the story of a toxic love affair and the narrator’s—less than rational—reaction, then pivots to more of a social commentary, then back to the relationship in a more nostalgic light.
It starts off with three electric guitar-heavy songs, beginning with “Agnus Dei.” In “Agnus Dei,” the narrator desperately wants her lover to stay with her, but she knows the relationship is doomed from the start. The apocalypse, or the end of their relationship, is on its way, and she can’t stop it, but maybe she doesn’t want to.
“Count the ways” is the heavy, sultry second track. The narrator has gone a bit insane because of the breakup. The next song, “Second Best,” takes her from jealous to angry, taunting them instead. Both the second and third songs show off lead vocalist Abigail Morris’s talents through the vocals themselves and the heavily story-driven lyrics. Morris plays the narrator’s descent into madness beautifully, all while giving an impressive musical performance.
On the fourth track, “This Is The Killer Speaking,” she’s done making fun of her former lover, but she’s completely lost it. She’s not jealous anymore; she’s just calling them up to let them know she’s going to kill them. She says if she wanted to be ghosted, she would’ve just gone to see her dead father’s grave. But the narrator admits, “I’m down so bad, I’m doing time.” She’s so not over it; she’d rather just kill her ex.
The fifth song, “Rifle,” is one of the most powerful on the album. This time, guitarist Lizzie Mayland takes the lead on vocals, and she slows the pace way down. It starts off with slow, spooky organ instrumentals, and Mayland’s repetition of the word “red,” in reference to bloodstained hands, only adds to the haunting air of the song. The narrator confronts her son and the blood he spilled by just being born.
The narrative moves away from the toxic romance and towards a more philosophical, anti-patriarchy slant with “Rifle.” The song ebbs and flows from the organ instrumental to a powerful chorus backed by a chorus of the other four band members. In the bridge, which is spoken entirely in French, the narrator says “this is you, my son, you are the end.”
The album’s patriarchal theme then evolves into a discussion of motherhood, which comes into play on “Woman is a Tree” and “I Hold Your Anger.” Both portray women as Mother Nature and the burden that being expected to care for everyone but yourself can have on a person. The Last Dinner Party’s keys player, Aurora Nishevci, takes over the vocals on “I Hold Your Anger.”
“From The Pyre” wraps up in three songs: “Sail Away,” “The Scythe” and “Inferno.” The order of the last two probably should have been switched, because “The Scythe” feels like more of an ending. Morris is back on vocals, and her voice brings a sweet nostalgia to the end of the album.
“Sail Away” sees the narrator reminiscing on the relationship from the beginning of the album. But this time it’s sad. To a calm piano instrumental, she recounts the good times and romanticizes the bad.
“Inferno” is more upbeat and self-reflective. Our narrator admits that she’s never really known herself, and she doesn’t want to. She continues to self-destruct, or breathe in the dust of the fire, and she’s just trying to hold herself together.
“The Scythe” brings the real emotional wrap-up, though. It’s a reflection on death, both of a person and of a relationship. The narrator begs for her death to be quick and painless, but she’s not scared.
The narrator sings to her former lover that nothing will last, but not to cry. They’re “bound together,” and life will “run its course.” They’ll meet again in the next life, and they’ll call each other then. It’s a beautiful reminder not to be afraid of what comes after a relationship ends.
The only way this album could be better is if it were played live. And it will be in Chicago on April 4, 2026.
