Photo by Eves Roebuck
There’s something almost poetic about seeing The Last Dinner Party inside Aviva Studios, the cavernous, concrete warehouse that Factory International has turned into a kind of blank canvas for big, theatrical ideas. Tonight, the space feels less like an industrial arts hub and more like a forgotten churchyard: mossy rocks scattered across the stage, rusted-looking railings, fabric and ropes hanging like remnants of something ancient, all against a shifting cloud-drenched backdrop. It’s dramatic without feeling forced, and it sets the mood perfectly.
Imogen and the Knives opened the night, and the crowd were already up for it, loud, lively, the kind of audience that buzzes with sold-out anticipation. By the time the five members of TLDP walked onstage, the air felt charged.
They opened with ‘Agnus Dei’, only to restart shortly after due to a medical incident in the crowd, something they handled with total calm and grace, checking in on the audience before sliding seamlessly into ‘Count the Ways’. It didn’t break the momentum; if anything, it tightened the connection between band and crowd.
‘Feminine Urge’ arrived early, delivered with enough theatrical bite to double as a band introduction, followed by a run of fan favourites, ‘Caesar on a TV Screen’, ‘On Your Side’, and ‘Second Best’, which was also restarted due to another audience medical issue. Again, the band paused everything to make sure people were okay. It’s easy to romanticise performers who care about their crowd, but here it felt real, not just good optics.
One of the standout moments of the night came with ‘Gjuha’, framed by a spoken monologue from Aurora that washed the room in stillness before the song’s haunting pulse crept in. Georgia’s own monologue led into ‘Big Dog’, ramping everything back up with snarling energy. The middle stretch, ‘I Hold Your Anger’, ‘Woman Is a Tree’, ‘Rifle’, ‘The Scythe’, showed off how confidently they move between tenderness and theatrical rock.
‘Sail Away’, performed with ribbons before shifting into ‘Provisions’ felt almost ritualistic. By the time they hit the trio of ‘Sinner’, ‘Lady of Mercy’, and the inevitable eruption of ‘Nothing Matters’, the room was fully theirs. They closed with ‘Killer Speaking’, which landed less like a final song and more like a curtain drop bold, sharp and fully committed.
The Last Dinner Party have always leaned into drama, but what stood out tonight was the balance: the spectacle was there, but it never overshadowed the musicianship or the emotional clarity of the set. In a space as huge and raw as Aviva Studios, they managed to build a world, moss, arches, myth-making monologues and all, and invite the crowd to live in it for the night. A show that felt less like a gig and more like a fever dream you’re glad you remembered.
